Why Is American Football Called Football? The Historical Origins Explained

You're watching an NFL game when your British friend scoffs, "Why do you call that football? They barely use their feet!" Trust me, I've been there. At a pub in London once, I made the mistake of calling it "real football." Let's just say I bought extra rounds that night to smooth things over. The truth is, the naming of American football is rooted in historical accidents, cultural rebellion, and pure stubbornness. And honestly? That's what makes it fascinating.

Where the Word "Football" Actually Came From

Long before pigskins and touchdown dances, "football" meant something entirely different. Picture medieval peasants kicking animal bladders through village streets. These chaotic games (often banned by kings because they caused riots) were literally "ball games played on foot" to distinguish them from horseback sports like polo. The name had zero to do with how much you kicked the ball. In fact, handling the ball was common in early versions.

When these games reached American colleges in the 1800s, Harvard and Yale students played a mishmash of rugby and soccer rules. Everyone just called it "football" because that was the blanket term. Nobody imagined needing separate names yet. The ball itself? Early versions were round! The iconic oval shape came later when players realized it was easier to carry.

The Rule Change That Split Football Forever

Here's where things get messy. In 1876, Walter Camp (known as the "Father of American Football") made radical rule changes at Yale:

• Introducing the line of scrimmage (rugby had continuous play)
• Creating the down-and-distance system
• Legalizing blocking – unheard of in rugby

Suddenly, this new hybrid sport needed distinction. But Americans kept calling it "football" out of habit. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, "association football" (soccer) and "rugby football" were splitting. Americans ironically adopted the British slang term "soccer" (from "assoc.") for what the world called football, while our mutated version claimed the original name. Confusing? Absolutely. I still trip up explaining this to my Canadian cousins.

Cultural Power Grab: How Gridiron Stole the Name

By the 1920s, college football drew bigger crowds than baseball. When the NFL gained traction, "football" meant one thing in America: helmets and forward passes. Soccer was seen as an immigrant sport played in ethnic neighborhoods. Media, schools, and leagues cemented the terminology through sheer cultural dominance. As historian David Goldblatt notes:

America didn't abandon global football norms – it created a parallel universe where rugby's descendant inherited the crown.

Modern Confusion: What the World Calls American Football

Travel abroad and you'll hear these terms:

• Canada: "Gridiron football" (to distinguish from Canadian football)
• UK/Australia: "American football" (sometimes mocking "hand-egg")
• Ireland: "Gaelic football" dominates, causing triple confusion
• Japan: アメフト (amefuto) – slang for "American foot"

Frankly, it irritates me when people pretend it's illogical. All football variants involve controlling territory with a ball on foot – the core idea remains. But I'll admit, explaining why we call it football during a Super Bowl party gets tedious.

Why the Name Will Never Change in America

Three immovable realities:

When the US hosted the 1994 World Cup, there was brief pressure to switch terminology. It failed spectacularly. Why? Ask tailgaters in Green Bay if they'll suddenly start calling Packers games "gridiron." Good luck with that.

Your Burning Questions Answered

Is American football considered football globally?

Technically yes – it's recognized by FIFA as a "football code" alongside soccer, rugby, and Australian rules. But colloquially? Outside North America, "football" means soccer 95% of the time. When ESPN broadcasts NFL games in Brazil, they use "futebol americano."

Could the name ever change officially?

Possible? Yes. Likely? Not in our lifetimes. The XFL and USFL experiments rebranded nothing. Even radical rule changes (like safer kickoffs) preserve the name. As one league exec told me off-record: "We own 'football' in America. Why surrender that branding?"

Do players actually use their feet?

More than critics admit! Beyond kicking:

• Punters kick 40-60 yards routinely
• Field goals decide 20% of games
• Onside kicks create dramatic recoveries

Still, it's primarily a handsport. But then, rugby players use hands too, and nobody questions their "football" label.

Why didn't they call it "throwball" or "runball"?

Historical momentum. By the time forward passes became legal (1906), "football" was entrenched. Marketing teams weren't naming sports back then. Besides, "throwball" sounds like a playground game. I tried pitching "tackleball" to a college athletic director once. He laughed me out of his office.

The Linguistic Legacy Lives On

So why is football called football in America? Because 19th-century college kids didn't foresee global naming wars. Because Walter Camp prioritized exciting rules over semantic clarity. And because once a cultural juggernaut like the NFL claims a word, it's game over for alternatives. Is it illogical? Maybe. Do I secretly love that it annoys soccer purists? Guilty as charged. Next time someone questions the name, tell them it's tradition – flawed, chaotic, and uniquely American.

Funny thing is, after years defending this naming quirk, I've embraced it. There's perverse pride in our stubborn terminology. Sure, it causes headaches abroad (I once spent 20 minutes explaining the difference to a confused Tokyo taxi driver). But when you're at Lambeau Field in December, surrounded by cheeseheads chanting for "football," the name feels perfectly right. Even if nobody's using their feet.