Uncovering the Mystery: Who Called It Soccer First and Why It Matters

I’ve always been fascinated by the subtle cultural divides that language can reveal, and nothing illustrates this better than the transatlantic divide between "football" and "soccer." As someone who grew up playing the sport and later studied its history, I’ve often found myself in conversations where the very name of the game sparks debate. Just the other day, I was reminded of a quote from a young athlete who said, "I feel like I’ve been really stepping up into that role of being a leader, and being someone who can be trusted on the court." That sense of identity and trust—whether on the pitch or the court—resonates deeply with how we name and claim the sports we love. So, let’s dig into a question that’s more than just semantics: Who called it soccer first, and why does it even matter?

Many people assume "soccer" is an American invention, a quirky deviation from the global norm. But the truth is far more interesting. The term "soccer" actually originated in England in the late 19th century, derived from "association football." As the story goes, Oxford students had a habit of adding "-er" to shortened words—"rugger" for rugby football, and yes, "soccer" for association football. By the 1880s, it was in common use among the British upper classes. I’ve always found it ironic that the word so many Brits now dismiss as an Americanism was once a marker of class and education in their own backyard. In fact, historical records show that up until the 1970s, "soccer" was still widely used in the UK, especially in contexts where distinction from rugby was necessary. It wasn’t until the sport’s global explosion, and perhaps a bit of cultural pushback against American influence, that "football" became the dominant term in Britain.

Now, you might wonder why any of this history matters today. Well, as someone who’s worked in sports media and content strategy, I’ve seen firsthand how terminology shapes perception and engagement. Take search trends, for example. In the U.S., "soccer" generates over 5 million monthly searches, while "football" trails at around 2 million—but with a crucial caveat: most of those "football" searches are for the NFL. If you’re a brand or publisher trying to reach fans, using the wrong term can mean missing your audience entirely. I’ve advised clients to optimize for both keywords, but it’s not just about SEO—it’s about understanding identity. When that young athlete talked about stepping up as a leader, it wasn’t just about skill; it was about owning a role, a language, a space. The same goes for what we call the beautiful game. In the U.S., embracing "soccer" isn’t a rejection of global norms; it’s an assertion of a distinct sporting culture, one that includes Major League Soccer’s growth from 10 teams in 1996 to 29 today. Frankly, I think that’s something to celebrate.

But let’s not ignore the purists who argue that "football" is the only correct term. I get it—there’s a certain elegance to honoring the sport’s roots. After all, FIFA, the global governing body, uses "football," and with an estimated 4 billion fans worldwide, it’s hard to argue with the consensus. Yet, language is never static. It evolves with migration, media, and cultural exchange. I remember covering a match where commentators switched between "soccer" and "football" depending on the broadcast audience, and it struck me how fluid these labels can be. In multilingual countries like Canada, you might hear both in the same conversation. So, while the historian in me respects tradition, the realist recognizes that "soccer" has carved out its own legitimacy. It’s not a misnomer; it’s a dialect.

What’s more, the soccer-football divide reflects broader patterns of how sports adapt to new environments. Think about how basketball or cricket have taken on local flavors wherever they’ve spread. Soccer’s journey to America followed a similar path—adopted, adapted, and renamed. And honestly, I prefer it that way. It shows the sport is alive, changing with the people who play and love it. When I coach youth teams, I use "soccer" without apology because it’s the term that resonates here. It’s part of how we’ve built our own narrative around the game, from the glory of the 1999 US Women’s World Cup win to the rising popularity of MLS. That sense of ownership is what matters most. It’s what allows players to say, "I’ve stepped up into that role," and know exactly what they’re stepping into.

In the end, the mystery of who called it soccer first isn’t just a trivia question—it’s a window into how culture, class, and commerce shape our world. The term may have faded in England, but it found a home elsewhere, and that’s okay. As both a fan and a professional, I’ve come to appreciate that the words we use tell stories about who we are and where we’re going. So whether you call it football or soccer, what really counts is the passion behind the name. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the beautiful game is big enough for both.