Team USA Displays Restraint in Junior World Championship of American Football

Hundreds of thousands of beef, barbeque and Bud-lovin' American sports fans got drawn into soccer madness over the past week, internalizing the whole footie culture and probably dancing in their summer villas while wearing nothing but scarves. Five goals? An offensive orgy! The vuvuzela? Buzzier than your buddy Spaz at an early-morning tailgate. Landon Donovan? A classy footballer with a great first touch, a well-struck shot from distance and a clinical finish.

And about three minutes after the U.S. went from international upset sensations to non-winners, 83.9 percent of those typical American sports fans went back to thinking about real football. For example, they began wondering by what score a team of 350-pound purebred Texas linemen -- who vomit Robinho's body weight for fun -- would crush a team of dancing Brazilians.

Well, I can't tell you that, but I can tell you something even better: by what score a team of U.S. football superstars would crush a team of dancing Frenchmen, who probably wished they were playing a sport of classy first touches, clinical finishes and headbutts. Those teams met on Saturday night, in the first day of the Junior World Championship of American Football in -- where else? -- Canton, Ohio. And it was a keg of Budweiser landing on a bottle of Bordeaux, a 950-pound block of processed Kraft cheese product being forcibly launched directly into a flowery delicate round of soft-ripening Camembert, a fleet of Hummers driving over a trio of bike racers, then covering the mangled wreckage in Doritos and ranch dip.

France's first possession included a fumble, a sack, and a 22-yard punt. Later in the first quarter, the Americans got a safety, returned the kickoff 49 yards, and scored on the very next play. For the game, Team Sarkozy averaged minus-1.1 yards per carry, went 0-for-12 on third downs, and punted nine times. Team Fourth of July recorded 20 tackles for a loss, averaged 11 yards a carry, and scored every single time they touched the ball, except when they were running out the clock on the game's final possession.

Total yards? Try 610-7. Stick that in your beautiful game. Oh, and did I mention that the Americans drafted your high school gym teacher as the U.S. coach, only they locked him in a small room for six weeks and only let him watch Rambo and Rocky and eat red-white-and-blue freeze pops while listening to Sousa and Kate Smith? Here's from his pre-game speech, concerning the ol' U.S. of A.

"There are a hell of a lot of people who fought and died for those three letters," he told his young gridders, according to the Cleveland Plain-Dealer. "We can win a football game. Got it?" "Yes, sir," they responded, while mainlining pureed apple pie.

It was 24-0 at halftime, and while the U.S. took its foot off the gas and instead used some of the extra fuel to char a few dead animal carcasses on the sidelines, the final was still 78-0.

See, that's how we do. Brazil, best nation in the futballing world, shows its class with a 3-2 display of grace. The U.S., best nation in the footballing universe, drives a semi into France's end zone and then clearcuts the turf to build a shopping center, some condos and a Sheetz, from which they buy a few gallons of neon Gatorade to dump over their coach's head. Who says we have anything left to prove? Up next, on Wednesday, is Mexico, 41-0 winners over Sweden. Remember South Africa, boys. Mercy is for the weak, plus Kaka.

This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.