France's Kylian Mbappe, left, and Paraguay's Juan Jose Caceres scuffle during a World Cup round of 16 football match in Philadelphia on Saturday. (AP Photo)The gloriously multi-dimensional French know many ways to kill the pesky cat disturbing their sleep. They could baffle them with their touch; they could bemuse them with their wits; they could pin them down with their muscle; they could play the piano, they could wield the sledgehammer too, which makes them the deadliest proposition in the tournament. The 1-0 victory over Paraguay that ensured quarterfinals was a triumph of their brawn, their capacity to outmatch gnarled men who tried to wrestle them, sometimes literally, at times harm them with a brand of cynicism that was strangely left unpunished.Wins as these don’t build an aura; but construct an irresistible energy that makes them feel unbreakable; that not even the extremest tactic could shake them. It was not France’s inability to score more goals that stood in a game that Thierry Henry commented, “football finally won” but their wherewithal and knowhow to nullify any strategies thrown at them. Kylian Mbappe, who scored the lone goal of the goal, after a penalty on Desire Doue, quipped, his eyes burning with a happy rage: “They thought we were going to turn up in tuxedos, but we know how to play rough football — and even at that, we were better than them!” The line before was a warning to the world: “We’ve shown that we’re not just a team that plays attacking football; if we have to put our hands in the s—, we will put our hands in the s—.”The French forward was in no forgiving mood after the game either. He ignored Paraguay goalkeeper Orlando Gill’s handshake and turned his attention to the fans. Gill reacted by throwing a ball onto his back.The feistiness France showed should not surprise. Some of the French jewels are mined from the roughest backgrounds, the crime-infested Parisian banlieues. They have suffered tragedies, wild fluctuations of form and career-threatening injuries. Paraguay’s ruffianism wouldn’t fluster them. Their default method was to frustrate France dogged defence, which they performed clinically. Five men ready to lay their lives on the backline, three men ferociously screening them, and two other buzzing upfront. The paths were rigorously bottlenecked, lines remained unbroken, and grit stayed unconquered.But against as imaginative an orchestra as France, they need more than stoic resistance. With one unimaginable, unthought move, France could disarray the defensive labyrinth. So they decided to rile them, break France’s rhythm, shatter their cohesion, and frustrate them under skin-peeling heat. Europe might be suffering a seasonal heatwave, but Paraguay endure similar punishing climes round the year. The deeper they drag the game, the likelier they are to spin an unlikely upset. The longer France remained goalless, the likelier they started strumming falsetto notes. They were merely hoping against hope.The first target was the talisman Mbappe. He was suffocatingly marked, three fast and rugged men tailing, grappling and sometimes cuddling him. Perhaps, the inhuman goal machine is human after all. His fabled precision deserted him. His long-range punts deserted him, he tried an audacious kung-fu kick goal, but swiped the thick air. The dark arts kicked in; Andres Cubas grabbed his body and pulled him down; he won a free kick; Matias Galraza smacked Mbappe when he was not even with the ball. The referee and his associates didn’t spot, or didn’t bother. Corners were a shirt-pulling slugfests; just before the first hydration break, they were clutching at each other’s throats, verbals flew, referees turned doves waving the white flag. Paraguay fans turned on the watts of hostility; those from France outnumbered them. Paraguay’s brass bands pierced the roar of the French throat boxes. The guard with biceps bursting through their sleeves firmed up and stared piercingly at a rowdy crowd. Not that they turned quiet instantly.The scenes were straight from a Latin American gangster movie, without the rattle of bullets, or the Spaghetti Western beating in the background. France didn’t flinch, they perhaps knew they had to flex their muscles more against the South American than any other they have encountered. They gave the same currency back, in interest. William Saliba bundled out Manuel Almiron. Dayot Upamecano bulldozed Julio Enciso. In the magnificence of their attackers, the impregnability of the backline has gone unsung. In five games, the blue wall was broken just twice. Both centre-backs bullied Paraguay’s attackers, mock when they missed, and raced faster than any of them could. Paraguay did enjoy a pair of attempts on goal, one of which stretched the reflexes of Mike Maignan. If Paraguay arrived with the idea of roughening France up, they ended up being roughened up.Story continues below this adYet for all their thuggery and rage-baiting, the yellow card count read: France 3; Paraguay 0. Even Diego Gomez’s stud-marks on Doue, tip-toeing through mangled limbs like he were walking through water, left unattended before the VAR intervened. The foul was bleeding obvious, and Mbappe clattered it home with a ferocious shot. He was venting out all his angst. He scowled at goalkeeper Gill when the ball crashed into the nets. Gill, Paraguay’s shootout hero against Germany, had tried to wind up Mbappe before the kick. Chimed in some of Gill’s colleagues. Mbappe has seen it all, the tricks and the tantrums. He remained unintimidated.He later shook his hips near an enclosure with French fans. He gambolled around the stadium greeting and waving them. Every win in the knockouts has a meaning; this one had even more meaning. France showed they have many ways to kill the cat. And tame the lions that they could encounter.