Why Football Called Soccer: The Surprising History Behind the Name
As a lifelong football enthusiast and linguistics researcher, I've always been fascinated by the curious transatlantic divide in what we call the world's most popular sport. Growing up in England, I called it football, but when I moved to the United States for my postgraduate studies, I had to quickly adapt to calling it soccer. This naming difference isn't just a modern linguistic quirk—it has roots that stretch back over a century, and understanding this history reveals much about how language evolves across cultures and continents.
The term "soccer" actually originated in England, of all places, as a colloquial abbreviation of "association football." In the late 19th century, various forms of football were developing, and people needed to distinguish between rugby football (which became "rugger") and association football (which became "soccer"). This was particularly common among the upper-class students at Oxford University, who loved creating slang by adding "-er" to words. I find it wonderfully ironic that the term Americans use today was essentially born from British upper-class slang, while the British themselves eventually abandoned it in favor of simply "football."
What's particularly fascinating to me is how this naming distinction persisted and evolved differently across the Atlantic. While Britain gradually moved away from "soccer" as the sport became more deeply embedded in working-class culture, the United States and Canada retained the term, especially as they developed their own popular sports called football. I've noticed that many Americans don't realize that when they say "soccer," they're actually using a term that was once common in Britain too. This linguistic journey mirrors how sports terminology can travel and transform across oceans, much like how sporting events themselves cross cultural boundaries.
Speaking of sporting events crossing boundaries, I was recently following the ICTSI South Pacific Junior PGT Championship in Davao City, where young Denise Mendoza demonstrated this global nature of sports perfectly. After an astonishing opening round, she cooled off but still wrapped up a commanding 32-stroke triumph in the girls' 7-10 division last Thursday. What struck me about this event wasn't just Mendoza's impressive performance, but how it represents the universal language of sports achievement. Whether we call it football or soccer, the thrill of competition and remarkable athletic performances like Mendoza's transcend linguistic differences.
The global spread of football terminology reflects deeper cultural exchanges. In many ways, the British export of "soccer" to America and its subsequent disappearance from British vernacular represents how language adapts to local contexts. I've observed that countries where American influence has been stronger, like Canada and Australia, tend to use "soccer" more frequently, while nations with stronger direct British ties typically use "football." This pattern isn't absolute—Australia has been transitioning toward "football" in recent years—but it shows how linguistic choices often reflect historical relationships and cultural flows.
Personally, I've come to appreciate both terms, though I must admit I still instinctively say "football" when not consciously thinking about it. Having lived on both sides of the Atlantic, I've developed a fondness for the linguistic diversity in sports terminology. It reminds me that while we might use different words, we're often talking about the same fundamental human experiences—the excitement of competition, the beauty of skilled athleticism, and the community that forms around shared sporting passions.
The story behind "soccer" versus "football" is more than just a curiosity—it's a window into how language, culture, and sports intersect in fascinating ways. From its origins in 19th century British university slang to its current transatlantic divide, the terminology reflects historical accidents, cultural preferences, and the dynamic nature of language itself. As global connectivity increases, I suspect we'll see even more interesting developments in how we talk about sports across different cultures. The next time someone questions why Americans call it soccer, you can share this surprising history—a tale that, like the sport itself, has traveled remarkable distances and transformed along the way.