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Booters with hooters.” Did I say that? No. Julie Foudy, the U.S. Women’s World Cup champion soccer team co-captain, said that, talking for and about her team. I read that, and I was shocked. Shocked! Amused, sure. Titillated, maybe. But also shocked.

What about this? What about the fact that as soon as little Suzie puts the autographed poster of Mia Hamm up in her room, little Johnnie suddenly takes to visiting little Suzie’s room. And not just little Johnnie, but little Johnnie’s dad. What about the fact that the U.S. women’s soccer team is not only being perceived as, and sold as, but is also presenting itself as…a sexual unit?

You can talk about your male-dominated, boorish, belching and beer-bellied sports media all you want, but nobody had to twist Foudy’s very strong arm to get her to pose for SPORTS ILLUSTRATED’s swimsuit issue. And then there was defender Brandi Chastain, severely out of uniform in Gear magazine. That picture won her a trip to the Late Show, where David Letterman subtly, delicately expressed what was on America’s mind. The U.S. team, said the ever sensitive host, was “Babe City,” a metropolis populated by “Soccer Mamas.”

Not all of them got into the act. “Everybody has to make their own decisions on how they want to be portrayed,” said midfielder Michelle Akers. “I am a bit uncomfortable with Brandi’s deal.” But most took the attitude that if sex was a factor in the Giants Stadium, Soldier Field and Rose Bowl sell-outs–well, that’s life in America. “I don’t think you have to run around naked to sell the game, but it’s good to at least be on the minds of people,” said goalkeeper Briana Scurry. “I don’t think it’s degrading.”

But it is objectifying, and in a way that never seems to pertain to guy jocks. Sure, Joe Namath did that take-it-all-off Noxzema ad years ago; Jim Palmer posed in his Jockey shorts, and there’s always been a bold sexual element to NBA basketball. But by and large, male sports celebrity is calibrated by success. You win, you make more headlines, you make more dough.

It’s never been that way with the women. In the 1970s and ’80s, Jan Stephenson and Laura Baugh had outsize celebrity on the golf tour because they were, well, babes. And today tennis’ pouty princess, Anna Kournikova, gets all the endorsements she wants despite the fact that her career WTA-win total is love and love. Kournikova, the poster girl for jockette sex, shows how extreme the situation can get. Craig Kilborn, the beggar’s Letterman, did a particularly stupid bit on the eve of the World Cup final, when he waved an American flag for the team as he showed pictures of Foudy, Hamm and then Kournikova–and Kournikova, twice. Total non sequitur and mind-bendingly unfunny, but the message was clear.

Having said all that, there is a difference between the Kournikova case and the Soccer Mamas. Kournikova is rich and famous because she is a babe. (Tell me, quickly, who is Dominique Van Roost, besides being the female tennis player ranked one spot below Kournikova?) The soccer team is a group of successful (key word, that) women going an extra step and having some fun–not to mention making some profit–with America’s sexual obsession. Michael Jordan did this, certainly, in most of his advertising (save the Tweetie Bird spots). In other realms, so did Madonna and Ricky Martin–on paper, singers–and even celebs like the ever shirtless Elizabeth Wurtzel and Sebastian Junger–on paper, scribes.

Kournikova is our fault. Babe City is not. Objectification, yes, sure, to a point. But it is objectification without objection. The soccer players are strong, smart, capable, achievement-oriented athletes. Every member of the team has a college degree or is pursuing one. Daughters of Title IX, they’ve never been told what they cannot do. They feel good about themselves. They feel free to make choices and to put their personalities–and other assets–on exhibit. “Hey, I ran my ass off for this body,” said Chastain. “I’m proud of it.”

All power to her. Her bravado may even have a salutary effect. Perhaps the booters’ out-front sexuality will prompt all their come-lately fans–girls and boys both–to reconsider what constitutes healthy, full-bodied femininity. Fit as fiddles, Chastain is 5 ft. 7 in. and 130 lbs., Scurry is 5 ft. 8 in. and 145 lbs., Foudy is 5 ft. 6 in. and 130 lbs., Akers is 5 ft. 10 in. and 150 lbs. There’s no heroin chic in Babe City. Those, little Suzie, are role-model physiques.

Robert Sullivan is an assistant managing editor at LIFE magazine.

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