ISN’T THAT A KICK IN THE SEMANTICS

Where Football Means Football

Call soccer football if you like — around here, the word already belongs to Mahomes

This is where football means football. Photo by the author.

Written with heart, humor and a stubborn refusal to stay silent.

The boasts already are popping up around town: Kansas City, the football capital of the world. I guess it has something to do with the World Cup kicking off here in the next few days.

But let’s be honest — that’s nothing new. We already have the Kansas City Chiefs, a darn good football team that includes Taylor Swift’s fiancé and three Super Bowl appearances in the last five years. And we have Arrowhead Stadium, a raucous cathedral of the pigskin.

What we don’t have, though, is football — at least not the type everyone’s suddenly wagging about.

Not in these parts. It’s soccer over here. But before you Anglophiles get up in arms, take a breath. “Soccer” isn’t some American abomination. It comes from Association Football. And guess where that comes from? England.

Back in late 19th‑century Britain, there were multiple kinds of football — most notably rugby football and association football. To tell them apart, people used the formal term “association football.”

Then the Oxford boys got involved. These were the same chaps who turned rugby into “rugger.” They took “association,” clipped it to “assoc,” then to “assoccer,” and finally — because no one wants to say four syllables when two will do — “soccer.”

So, if anyone wants to complain about the word, please direct your letters to Oxford University, c/o the Department of Linguistic Shenanigans.

Europeans tried to sneak both the game and the “football” moniker across the pond decades ago. Not many people here noticed or, to be candid, cared. Besides, Americans already had football. And baseball. And basketball. This being the good old U.S. of A., we weren’t about to rename our sport just to make the rest of the world happy.

Americans have always had a complicated relationship with soccer. We treat it like kale — we know it’s good for us, we know the rest of the world swears by it, but we’d still rather have a cheeseburger and watch a guy get flattened on the 40‑yard line.

Every few years, someone insists soccer is “finally catching on.” They say it with the same optimism people use when they claim they’re “really going to get into yoga this time.”

And sure, we’ve tried — and even have professional men’s and women’s teams with their own stadiums. We put our kids in soccer. We buy them shin guards. We cheer politely from folding chairs. But the moment they turn 12, they discover basketball, football or Fortnite, and the soccer ball becomes a garage ornament wedged between a broken rake and the inflatable Santa we keep forgetting to throw away.

Maybe someday it will be THE sport in town. Someday.

And now FIFA is making Arrowhead Stadium — the loudest stadium in the world by many accounts — change its name to “Kansas City Stadium” so a bunch of guys in shorts can run around and play kickball.

Just accept it, everyone elsewhere. We have that “football” thing cornered.

To all our international guests: welcome. Truly. We’re glad you’re here. We hope you enjoy our city, our barbecue, our fountains and our vocal disdain of roundabouts.

You’ll like it here. We’re Midwestern. We smile at strangers. We hold doors. We say “’scuse me” when we bump into someone. We’re one big happy family on both sides of the state line — unless you happen to mention the Civil War or college sports.

Just know that when you say “football,” we will smile politely, nod and pretend we understand. We don’t. We’re thinking about Patrick Mahomes. We’re always thinking about Patrick Mahomes.

And when you walk into Arrowhead — yes, Arrowhead — and hear 76,000 people screaming at a decibel level that could peel paint off a battleship, remember: this is what football sounds like in Kansas City.

Next up: Obi-Phoebe and the Vulture of Doom

[embed]Obi‑Phoebe and the Vulture of Doom A ten‑pound dog, a hungry buzzard and one Jedi Dog Trick that saved the daymedium.com

If you enjoy domestic espionage, Midwestern captivity or the ongoing saga of a man trying to stay upright in a world that refuses to cooperate, follow me. I write daily dispatches from the front lines of ordinary absurdity.