Does Japan Call It Soccer? The Real Name for Football in Japan

When you watch a match in Tokyo or Osaka, you won’t hear fans shouting "football"-but you also won’t hear them say "soccer" like in the U.S. or Australia. So what do they actually call it? The answer isn’t as simple as a direct translation. Japan has its own way of handling the global game, shaped by history, language, and culture.

Japan doesn’t use "soccer"-but not because they say "football"

In Japan, the sport is called サッカー (sakkā), which is a direct phonetic borrowing from the English word "soccer." It’s written in katakana, the Japanese script used for foreign words. You’ll see it on TV broadcasts, in newspapers, on team jerseys, and even on kids’ backpacks. The term is everywhere.

Why not "football"? Because in Japanese, "football" would be フットボール (futtobōru), which sounds like a different word entirely. And while that term does exist, it’s rarely used in everyday speech. Most Japanese people don’t say "futtobōru" unless they’re being overly formal or talking about American football.

The word "soccer" stuck because it was introduced to Japan in the late 1800s by British sailors and educators. The first organized match took place in 1873 at the Tokyo Kaisei School, and from then on, "sakkā" became the natural way to refer to the sport. Over time, it became the default-even more common than "football" in British English.

The J.League is the heart of Japanese football

Japan’s professional league, the J.League, launched in 1993 and quickly became the most popular sports league in the country. It’s not called the "Japanese Football League"-it’s the J.League, and every team logo, stadium sign, and broadcast graphic uses "サッカー."

The league’s branding leans into the term "sakkā" to connect with fans on a cultural level. Even the official website uses "sakkā" in its URL and navigation. The Japan Football Association (JFA) uses "soccer" in its English communications, but internally and locally, it’s all about "sakkā."

When Japanese players go abroad-like Takefusa Kubo at Real Sociedad or Ritsu Dōan at Freiburg-they’re still called "sakkā players" back home. The term isn’t just a label; it’s part of their identity.

Why "soccer" works better in Japan than "football"

Japan has its own traditional ball games, like kemari, played for centuries before Western sports arrived. But when Western football came in, it needed a clear distinction from other sports. The word "football" could easily be confused with rugby, which is also called "ラグビー" (ragubī) and is hugely popular in Japan.

Rugby has a strong cultural presence, especially in schools and universities. In fact, Japan’s national rugby team, the Brave Blossoms, has more visibility than many people realize. If Japanese fans called association football "football," they’d constantly be mixing it up with rugby.

"Soccer" solved that problem. It’s specific. It’s short. It’s easy to say. And it avoids confusion. That’s why even today, when you ask a Japanese person what sport they play after school, they’ll say "sakkā," not "futtobōru."

How Japanese media handles the language

Japanese TV networks like NHK and TBS use "sakkā" in all their coverage. Even during World Cup matches, commentators say "sakkā no saishū-sen" (the final match of soccer). Newspapers like Asahi Shimbun and Yomiuri Shimbun use "サッカー" in headlines. You won’t find "フットボール" unless they’re specifically talking about American football or historical contexts.

English-language media in Japan, like The Japan Times, sometimes use "football" to appeal to international readers-but even they often clarify by adding "(soccer)" in parentheses. The local audience still expects "sakkā."

It’s not a translation issue. It’s a linguistic adaptation. Japanese doesn’t just borrow words-it reshapes them to fit its structure. "Soccer" became "sakkā" because it’s easier to pronounce and fits the rhythm of Japanese speech.

What about kids and schools?

At elementary schools, children learn "sakkā" as part of physical education. School teams are called "sakkā-bu" (soccer club). Uniforms say "sakkā" on the chest. Tournaments like the All-Japan High School Soccer Championship are known nationwide as "sakkā" events.

Even when kids grow up and start watching the World Cup, they still call it "sakkā." There’s no generational shift toward "football." The term has been stable for over 150 years. It’s not fading. It’s entrenched.

If you walk into a Japanese convenience store and buy a jersey, you’ll see "sakkā" printed on the tag. If you search for tickets on Rakuten or Yahoo! Japan, you type in "サッカー チケット." Google Japan’s autocomplete suggests "サッカー" before "フットボール" by a 9-to-1 margin.

Why this matters for fans and travelers

If you’re visiting Japan and want to talk about football, use "sakkā." Say "J.League" and people will know exactly what you mean. If you say "football," you might get a confused look-or someone will assume you mean rugby.

It’s not about correctness. It’s about connection. Using the local term shows respect for how the culture has made the game its own. Japan didn’t just adopt football-they reimagined its name to fit their language, their needs, and their identity.

And that’s the real story here. It’s not whether Japan calls it soccer or football. It’s that Japan created its own word for it-and that word has lasted longer than most people realize.

What about other Asian countries?

Japan isn’t alone. South Korea also uses "sokker" (축구, chukgu), which literally means "foot ball," but is pronounced differently. In China, it’s 足球 (zúqiú), meaning "foot ball." In Thailand, it’s ฟุตบอล (fút-bɔːn), which is closer to "football." But Japan chose the English "soccer"-and made it their own.

That’s unique. Most countries stick to "football," even if they’re not British. Japan didn’t. It picked the less common term and owned it.

Final thought: It’s not about the name-it’s about the culture

Japan doesn’t call it "soccer" because it’s American. It calls it "sakkā" because it fits. It’s simple. It’s clear. It’s part of daily life.

When you watch a match in Sapporo or Fukuoka, and the crowd roars "sakkā! sakkā!"-you’re not hearing a foreign word. You’re hearing the sound of a nation’s love for the game, shaped by its own rules, its own language, and its own history.