Well, quite frankly B81, from what I hear out there on the streets, news, blogs, and many other sources, most people have a similar opinion when it comes to the US team. And I have to say I agree. I'll have to put my hubris aside and say that anything less than winning the cup by not conceding a single goal would be disappointing.
I also expect the American tourists to totally revitalize the Brazilian lifestyle and society to the point where US lifting the cup would be celebrated by all of South America in the most grandest of fashions. Cartel members would turn into priests from the happiness and there would be no more crime ever. And then a million bald eagles would soar across the skies of countries they're not a native species of, dropping dollars and hotdogs for everyone.
But in an unexpected twist, the French, mad out of rage and jealousy will try to interfere with this feast and celebration of innocence and freedom. Hoisting old and stale baguettes that have become hard as wood, they will try to boink the beautiful eagles, interrupting their marvelous and enchanting flights. But alas, they do not know bald eagles have received the best of training with elite SWAT officers and Marines. Due to this, they are able to dismount the smelly, bald French, who now wield nothing but an imminent need to flee from their new-found enemies in the predatory birds. And did I forget to mention that eagles can fly? I don't think so. Did I also forget to mention that running isn't as fast as flight? Maybe, but I am mentioning it now.
The eagles, energized from eating half of the baguettes they took from the French, now arm themselves with the other half and soar down with the speed and sound of a million F1 engines roaring synchronically during the qualification round. Or make that NASCAR. The feeble, pale French are now stumbling and tangled upon each others' hairy legs, only their ugly white heads remaining distinguishable. The eagles, with nothing in their eyes but fierce justice, now at the end of their soar, use the baguettes to bat off all the French heads with stunning accuracy and strength. Now the little white balls are flying all the way to the top of the stratosphere, where the low temperatures freeze them and they fall back down as snow. The Brazilians, mistaking this as a sign from God, now start a new sport where they use wooden bats to hit little white deformed balls. And that's how baseball is introduced to Brazil!