Why Americans Call Football "Soccer" – The True Story Behind the Names

So, imagine this: my son Jasper’s watching a Champions League match and asks me, “Dad, why do we call it ‘soccer’ while everyone else says ‘football’?” He’s got a point. It’s a classic source of jokes, arguments, and confusion every time the World Cup rolls around. One word — football — should be simple, right? But, in the United States, what you call that game with a round ball played mostly with your feet depends entirely on your geography.

Why Do Americans Call Football “Soccer”?

Alright, time for a history lesson you actually want to hear. The word “soccer” didn’t start in America. Crazy, right? It comes from England — the same place that conjured up the sport in the first place. Way back in the 19th century, people in England were getting confused between all the "football" games: rugby football, association football, even Gaelic football. So, university students nicknamed association football “assoc-er,” which soon became “soccer.” By the 1880s, both “football” and “soccer” existed side-by-side in British slang. The U.S. picked up “soccer” to avoid mixing it up with the brand-new gridiron game which they, of course, called “football.” They needed a way to tell the difference. Americans attached “football” to their own tradition of helmeted, tackle-heavy, hand-using madness, and kept “soccer” for the foot-kicking game the rest of the world loved. The British eventually stuck with “football,” leaving “soccer” to sound more American with each passing decade.

It’s wild to realize “soccer” was the preferred term in parts of England for generations. The word even appeared routinely in The Times and other major UK newspapers until the 1970s. Want another twist? It caught on in other English-speaking lands too: Australians and Canadians often say “soccer,” since their own “football” means Australian rules or Canadian football.

And the numbers make everything even more confusing. There are almost 250 million people playing association football across more than 200 countries — every World Cup, more than half the planet tunes in. But, in the U.S., it’s still American football (NFL) that dominates TV. More than 100 million people watched the 2024 Super Bowl, a mindblowing stat when you compare it to the 27.6 million Americans who watched the USA women’s team in the 2015 World Cup final. Here’s how the terminology lines up in a simple table:

If you ever meet someone bristling about Americans “misusing” the word, now you’ve got ammo. It wasn’t even America’s idea. And on the playgrounds and fields in the U.S., you use “soccer” if you want to be understood, unless it’s Thanksgiving and you really mean football-with-helmets.

The American Football Identity Crisis

In the U.S., football isn’t only a game; it’s a cultural behemoth. My daughter Leona’s school turns Friday nights into a rowdy, stadium-sized block party, even at the high school level. We’re talking marching bands, tailgates, homecoming dances, school mascots doing backflips — all for a sport where, honestly, feet rarely touch the ball. This is the key to why Americans use “football” differently.

American football exploded in popularity in the early 1900s, morphing from rugby. Imagine burly men in leather helmets, tossing a pigskin and smashing each other on muddy lawns at Ivy League colleges. The sport gave birth to cultural icons, from Vince Lombardi to Tom Brady, and the NFL quickly became America’s favorite spectator sport. Thanksgiving games sold out stadiums, families gathered around TVs, and the Super Bowl became a national event with commercials worth millions. The word “football” naturally stuck to this spectacle. So, when the other football (association football) came over from abroad, it needed its own label — “soccer.”

This juggling act created some hilarious situations. I once coached my son’s U8 recreational team, and a confused parent showed up with shin pads and asked if we needed helmets. Nope — too much confusion from the "football" name. The word “soccer” separates the games cleanly, avoiding injuries and arguments at youth league sign-ups.

Sometimes, people try to push the European usage. There’s a movement in U.S. media and among soccer diehards to reclaim “football,” but it regularly backfires. The average American hears “football” and pictures touchdowns, not bicycle kicks and red cards. That’s not stubborn ignorance; it’s just what the word has meant for over a century. Even Major League Soccer (MLS), founded in 1993, went with “soccer” in the title instead of “football.” And let’s admit it: if you walk into any American bar on a fall Sunday and ask if the football game is on, you’ll get NFL, not the Premier League.

Sneaky Mix-ups, Epic Fandoms, and U.S. Soccer’s Changing Image

The difference between “soccer” and “football” creates endless comedy and confusion, especially online. Anyone who’s scrolled matchday Twitter knows the vibe: a British fan tweets about a “massive football derby” and an American shoots back with, “What’s the score at halftime?” — except they’re talking about two totally different sports. This mix-up seeps into everything from YouTube highlights to suburban pickup games where kids invent hybrid rules that would make FIFA cry.

But beyond the confusion, soccer’s place in America is changing fast. Youth participation in “soccer” is enormous — second only to basketball. Stats from the Sports & Fitness Industry Association show over 10 million kids register for organized youth soccer every year. Many Latino and immigrant communities live and breathe the sport, and after every World Cup, more and more kids swap their football helmets for cleats. Cities like St. Louis, Los Angeles, and Atlanta fill their MLS stadiums each week, boasting the kind of chanting, scarf-waving supporters that used to seem "foreign." The 2026 World Cup (hosted by the U.S., Canada, and Mexico) is predicted to push things even further. Some experts say the U.S. might see its own version of football (soccer) catch up — or even outgrow — American football as the country’s favorite sport for kids under eighteen.

• Tip for travelers: If you’re going abroad, watch your language! In most of the world, “football” means what Americans call “soccer.” If you say “soccer” too much in, say, Spain, people might give you a blank stare or politely correct you.
• Tip for expats: Don’t call NFL “football” when talking to Europeans. They’ll think you mean Cristiano Ronaldo, not Patrick Mahomes.
• Tip for parents: If your kid wants to try “football,” ask which one! Cleats or shoulder pads? Red card or touchdown?

The lingo is shifting too. Some young Americans, inspired by the international players they follow, use “football” or even “fútbol” when talking about their MLS teams. But the official word in American vernacular is, and probably will be for a while, “soccer.” If you want to search for leagues, fields, or gear in the U.S., stick with “soccer” unless you’re ready for a gridiron mix-up.

The Global Game Versus the Gridiron Giant

If you ever host a trivia night, here’s a fun question: “Which country’s word for football comes from English upper-class slang and not, say, Latin or Greek?” The answer: the United States. And that little fact is woven into a much bigger story — one about what people value, how traditions form, and why two nations divided by a common language can see something as basic as a ball game so differently.

The world’s obsession with football goes far beyond the field. It’s about culture, language, national pride, even politics. In Brazil, “futebol” is almost a religion; in Germany, the Bundesliga packs 80,000-seat stadiums. But in the U.S., the term “football” underlines something uniquely American. It’s not just a label; it’s a slice of the country’s identity. At my house, the game on TV pivots between the New England Patriots and LA Galaxy, with my kids cheering for both. That’s the new American norm: loving the Giants and Manchester United without ever feeling they overlap.

If you ask most Americans to pick their favorite “football,” you won’t get a simple answer. For my son Jasper, “football” means touchdowns. For his best friend Diego, raised by Mexican parents, only soccer counts. My daughter Leona’s favorite memory is being “Soccer Star of the Day” in third grade — yet she’s now on the flag football team at her middle school. This dual identity isn’t going away anytime soon.

The next time someone ribs you about “Americans not knowing the real football,” tell them the story. The U.S. didn’t invent “soccer,” but they kept the word going long after the British dropped it. The reason isn’t ignorance — it’s a wild, sprawling sports culture that had to carve out space for two games with the same name. If you’re in the U.S., say “soccer” if you want to play, “football” if you want to tackle. If you’re anywhere else, make sure you specify. Either way, you’ll probably end up making new friends — or learning new swear words — at the local pub.