During the 2023 World Cup, a particular chant caught on among the American fans: “It’s called ‘soccer’!” The chant was instantly controversial, as anyone who’s spoken to a foreign soccer fan could have guessed. Perhaps the only thing that rankles Europeans more than a boorish American is a boorish American trying to take the “Beautiful Game” for another part of the American cultural hegemon. Americans have already taken so much, but at least Europe still dominates the game they call “football.” At least Americans don’t claim to be “world champion” just for winning Major League Soccer (MLS) (though Americans seem to be buying all the English soccer teams that the Saudi Arabians aren’t). At least Europe gets the satisfaction of creaming America in the only sport that really matters (except basketball and hockey, which Europeans still care about even if the US and/or Canada are always winning Olympic gold). That Europeans hate the word soccer and even more so the American insistence on calling it that.
But what surprised me, at the time, was the number of Americans who hated the chant. In fact, I got the feeling that even more Americans were upset than Europeans. While Europeans were miffed, they were also largely dismissive. Who cares about the Americans? Morocco is making a Cinderella run! Messi is going for his last chance at a World Cup! But American fans, who enjoyed a bare minimum run to a loss in the Round of 16, were free to spend much time on Twitter bemoaning the uncouth behavior of the Americans who made the long trip to Qatar for the tournament.
This kind of fan has a name — Eurosnobs — that I learned after a short while lurking in the online American soccer discussion. While they are probably a minority, they are a very vocal one. On top of despising the “It’s called ‘soccer’” chant, they also hate the following soccer Americanisms: the word soccer itself, the franchise model used by MLS, the MLS All-Star Game, the MLS Cup Playoffs, the MLS Cup, lack of promotion and relegation used in MLS, and — of course — MLS. In fact, one fan I spoke to (offline) shortly before Team USA’s elimination loss to the Dutch actively discouraged me from paying any attention to MLS. This struck me as bizarre. Why would fans of a sport tell people not to watch it?
Ever since English soccer star David Beckham came to the LA Galaxy in 2007, MLS gained a reputation as a “retirement league,” where old European players came for an easy paycheck after playing in “real leagues” in Europe. By contrast, leagues of a similar status to MLS, like the Mexican Liga MX or Brazil’s Brasileirão, are feeder leagues that pride themselves on developing young players who leave for Europe to become stars. This reputation for MLS is not entirely fair, since there are a growing number of MLS alumni playing in Europe, as well as some, like Atlanta United’s Thiago Almada, who are expected to transfer to Europe shortly. But the stigma lingers to the point that more than a few American fans were actually disappointed by the recent announcement by Lionel Messi, possibly the best soccer player of all time, that he was signing with Inter Miami CF (Club Internacional de Fútbol Miami) of MLS. This reaction befuddled me. Imagine telling a Lithuanian basketball fan in 1999, “Michael Jordan is coming to EuroLeague,” only for that fan to pout about how the age of His Airness will make the EuroLeague look less prestigious?
I suspect this trend of Europhilia goes beyond just the game. In the United States and Canada, soccer fans trend significantly more left-wing politically than other sports fans. Some of the most popular MLS franchises are in cities that pride themselves on their progressivism, like the three Pacific Northwestern rivals: the Seattle Sounders, Portland Timbers, and Vancouver Whitecaps. The fiercely loyal fanbase of the non-MLS Detroit City FC claim an outright radically left-wing identity. And no matter the city, every MLS game will feature several different flavors of sexual pride flags in the stands. In that sense, it’s not surprising that American soccer has cultivated a little cultural cringe.
But if that’s the case, it creates a paradox in the relationship between the Eurosnobs and actual foreigners. While American soccer fans veer left, a large number of foreign fans are proudly nationalistic and are far more likely to shout f-words (of the stick-bundle variety) rather than wave pride flags. That’s not to say that there aren’t a massive number of very progressive fanbases, and the management of big European teams is almost universally in the same mold as other massive corporations, but in many ways, foreign fans of foreign “football” are the same as American fans of “American football.” Furthermore, international soccer competition isn’t just at the Olympics — it’s year-in and year-out — which means that foreigners are often just as invested in the success of their national team as their club.
In fact, the power of Us vs. Them can sometimes even sway the American soccer fans. While for me, it was easy to get engaged in Team USA for their short World Cup appearance and then forget, Americans who are invested in the sport obsess over the national team. They speak of it with the same passion and frustrated despair as I do with my Chicago Cubbies. Multiple soccer podcasts focus solely on the United States national teams, and even ESPN+ has devoted a show (Fútbol Americas) to discussing US Soccer and their southern rivals, the team known as “L Tri.”
Actually, I lied. The Mexican team is nicknamed “El Tri” for the three (tri) colors of the Mexican flag. American fans call them “L Tri” because they’re the rivals, and they suck! They’re the bad guys! They’re the Cardinals to our Cubbies and the Sith to our Jedi! Boo! Boooooooooo!
This was perhaps best exemplified by a rivalry game I watched last month: the CONCACAF (the North American soccer confederation) Nations League semifinal. Once, the US-Mexico rivalry was heavily in Mexico’s favor until fortunes recently reversed. And this game reflected that. Team USA dominated until the Mexican fans (of which there were very, very many) essentially began trying to get the game ended early. Bags of urine started flying. Trash launched from the stands. Even the Mexican players began to get in on it, starting to gang up on American star Weston McKennie and ripping his shirt in the first of several ejections of the night. And taking advantage of a futile CONCACAF rule to stop play if obscene chants started, the Mexican fans loudly shouted at the American goaltender Matt Turner about what they thought his sexuality was. (He’s straight, married, and has a kid on the way, but that wasn’t their point.) The game ended several minutes early when the referees decided it just wasn’t worth finishing a blowout when it had to be stopped repeatedly.
The American fans online were scandalized by this display, but they were not above it. As I read the online discussion the next day, I amused myself with the frustration of American fans who, even as they bemoaned the homophobia of their rivals, descended into openly talking about how much they hated Mexicans and Mexico. They weren’t thinking quite straight — I’m sure that, if pressed, they would have realized their faux pas and clarified, “I only hate Mexican fans," but when sports fans are in the heat of the moment, they forget themselves. And personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
That’s essentially what “It’s called ‘soccer’” is about. As long as the “hatred” is actually just the spirit of rivalry, channeled into competition, it’s part of what makes sports worthwhile. When given something about America to actually place positive emotions into, even the most raging progressive becomes a nationalist — or, better put, a team player. “We are conservative about the things we love the most,” goes the proverb. And if you love American soccer, even if you are a Eurosnob who wishes American soccer were more European, you become conservative for that moment — because how dare those Mexicans! U-S-A! U-S-A!
Now as for me, I still don’t really care about soccer. Unlike my brother, who, in spite of being a Cubs and Bears fan, has selected a third vector of suffering by rooting for Tottenham Hotspur (the world’s worst good soccer team), I have no investment in any team. Even the coming of Messi to the Sunshine State has not persuaded me to actually use my free MLS Season Pass to watch Inter Miami play. But as long as American fans chant “it’s called ‘soccer’” in support of Team USA, I’ll join in.
(Unless it’s the USWNT — I can’t stand them.)
(Except Mallory Swanson — she’s cool.)