Though not nearly as influential as other aspects of Greek society passed down to us today, several top soccer teams have names that make reference to Greek gods and places. In most cases these names suggest qualities to which the teams aspire (though perhaps don’t always achieve). The list I present here is relatively small, though I don’t doubt that there are other teams with Greek-inspired names (I am not, of course, counting Greek teams themselves in this list). If you know teams with such names, please post them in the comments.

One of the most important teams in the development of soccer worldwide was England’s Corinthians FC. The team was one of the top sides in England during the latter part of the 19th and early part of the 20th century. Corinithians gained fame by traveling around the game, bringing the soccer gospel to many different countries. So taken were the Brazilians by these visitors that they named a local team after them. That team, Sao Paulo’s Corinthians, continues to play professionally to this day (though were recently relegated to the second division) and has recently had players such as Carlos Tevez and Javier Mascherano on their books. The English Corinthians merged with Casuals FC in 1939 to become Corinthians-Casuals FC, a team that plays in the Ryman Football League (formerly known as the Isthmian League) today.

The Greek city-state of Corinth, for which Corinthians FC was presumably named, once rivaled Athens for power and prestige. Most notably, Corinth hosted the Isthmian Games. This competition was held every two years and has been described by archaeologist Oscar Broneer as “probably the most popular of all the Panhellenic celebrations.” Although the last Isthmian Games were held in the 4th century AD, the name of the city-state which hosted it was revived by an English soccer team 1500 years late, as was the spirit of athletic competition for its own sake that both celebrated.

An archaeological dig being done at the site of the Isthmian Games (photo: Michael Lahanas)

In Italy, Atalanta are a team known for producing young players, including Italian legend and current national team coach Roberto Donadoni. The team today sits in 8th place, one spot away from qualifying for the Intertoto Cup. The team’s blue and black uniforms give them one of their nicknames, the Nerazzurri. That nickname may be shared with current Italian champions Inter, but Atalanta’s other nickname is all their own.

The team from Bergamo is also known as La Dea (Italian for “goddess”). That is because the team takes its name from the Greek god Atalanta. As the myth has it, Atalanta was so beautiful that she had many suitors, but rebuffed all who sought her hand. Her father convinced her to agree to marry anyone who could beat her in a footrace. Atalanta agreed, and ran many races against potential suitors, winning all of them. Finally, she came up against Hippomenes. Finding him attractive, Atalanta sought to convince him not to run, as losers of the races were put to death. Hippomenes did race Atalanta, but had the god of love Aphrodite intervene on his behalf, placing apples on Atalanta’s path, which she stopped to pick, allowing Hippomenes to pass her. Could it have been Atalanta’s pace and beauty that inspired the Italian team to choose her as their name?

Atalanta’s logo incorporates an image of the goddess of the same name (photo: Atalanta BC)

No country has more teams named for Greek gods, heroes, and places than Holland. For a country relatively distant from Greece, this is a bit of a surprise (to me, at least). Sparta Rotterdam, a team which nearly always plays second fiddle to city rivals Feyenoord, takes its name from perhaps one of the greatest city-states of ancient Greece, immortalized for its role in defeating Athens in the Peloponnesian War.

Heracles Almelo may be small potatoes even in the modest Dutch league, but the Greek god from which they took their name is anything but small. Heracles, who the Romans would incorporate into their traditions and rename Hercules, was the son of Zeus. Above all, he was known as a great warrior, whose strength and guile enabled him to achieve a mythic status in ancient Greece. Heracles Almelo, who did win the Dutch league in 1927 and 1941, have, in recent years, shown little of the athletic ability demonstrated by the Greek god from whom they took their name.

The Greek god Heracles in action (photo: Jean Oh)

The most famous team named for a mythological Greek hero, however, is Ajax. That Ajax is written about in the Iliad, most prominently when he argues with Patroclus over who will take Achilles’ shield after that hero has been slain. Ajax loses the argument and is enraged. In his rage, he slaughters a flock of sheep. When he realizes what he has done, he feels ashamed and instead of living the rest of his life with this shame, kills himself.

Ajax Amsterdam, on the other hand, have not died (though their teams in the past couple of years have been pretty poor). The team from the Dutch capital has seen two golden periods: one in the early 1970s when, inspired by Johann Cruyff, they won the European Cup three times in a row (1971-1973), and a second in the mid-1990s when, coached by Louis van Gaal, they put out a team of young players (including Marc Overmars, Patrick Kluivert, Edgar Davids, Clarence Seedorf and others) and won the European Cup (1995). Despite the team’s recent lack of success, Ajax Amsterdam – in contrast to other teams with similarly inspired names – are now more prominent than the original god Ajax from which they took their name.

Edward Sapir (L) and Benjamin Whorf (R)

Coined by anthropologist Edward Sapir and his student Benjamin Whorf, the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis holds that language does not merely serve to allow us to describe what we see as reality, but language also shapes the way we see this reality. Sapir himself wrote in his 1929 article The State of Linguistics as a Science,

Language is a guide to ‘social reality’ … It is quite an illusion to imagine that one adjusts to reality essentially without the use of language and that language is merely an incidental means of solving specific problems of communication or reflection. The fact of the matter is that the ‘real world’ is to a large extent unconsciously built upon the language habits of the group. No two languages are ever sufficiently similar to be considered as representing the same social reality.

In the Japanese language, for example, the word for self is jibun. This word is made up of two parts, ji, which means part, and bun, which means group. Put together, jibun, the Japanese word for self, literally means part of a group.

This may seem like mere semantical nitpicking until one also considers the way Japanese people typically conceive of the self. Unlike Western culture, which is more inclined to view an individual on his or her own, Japanese culture views people always within the context of a group. (For further reading on this topic, I recommend Japanese psychoanalyst Takeo Doi’s book The Anatomy of Dependence.)

Now that you’ve gone on that short journey into linguistic theory with me, perhaps you’re wondering: what does this have to do with soccer? Well, we all know that soccer, a game bound by a single set of 17 laws, looks very different in different countries. I would suggest that the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis can help us at least partially explain these differences. The English and the Argentines, for example, think about the game of soccer differently because they have different languages to describe the game. As the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis suggests, language shapes the way people around the world view the game of soccer.

When I was younger, I lived for a time in Costa Rica. As I tried to get to know the Costa Rican national team, I would often ask people what position different players played. I knew the Spanish words for defender (defensa), midfielder (mediocampista), and forward (delantero), but what I got in response often did not fit into these three categories. Enganche, for example, was used to describe a position, but I had no idea what position that might be.

Though it comes from enganchar, a word that literally means “to hook,” enganche takes on a much different meaning when used to describe a position in soccer. Enganche, it turns out, is essentially a number ten, a playmaker. The reason that I had so much trouble understanding enganche was because it was a position that didn’t fit into my frame of reference, which only had space for defenders, midfielders, and forwards.

But anyone who’s grown up in Latin America intuitively knows what an enganche is. It is the number 10, the playmaker. It is Diego Maradona, Marco Etcheverry, and Juan Román Riquelme. Spanish-speakers who use the term enganche come to expect to see a team line up with such a player. All this because their language tells them that there is such a thing as an enganche.

Juan Roman Riquelme, Argentina’s enganche at the 2006 World Cup

Italian has a similar word to enganche, which is trequartista. Literally meaning “three-quarters,” the word is often used to describe players such as Francesco Totti and Alessandro Del Piero.

Franz Beckenbauer was a player whose unique style of play created the need for a new word to describe a newly created position. Der Kaiser began his career as a midfielder. Soon, though, he shifted his role farther back and became, essentially, a sweeper (back in the days when such a position was employed). But Beckenbauer was not content to hang back behind all of his teammates and sweep up after them. Instead, he would go forward on runs and create attacks for his team.

So, the question arose: what position was Beckenbauer playing? He was no longer a midfielder and no longer a sweeper. The German legend’s genius led to the coining of a new term, the libero. Thus, when future players such as Ronald Koeman, Franco Baresi, and Matthias Sammer played like Beckenbauer, it was easy to denote them too as liberos. Like Spanish-speakers and the enganche, people across the world (libero appears to have found a place in the soccer vernacular of many languages) knew the position existed, because it had been given a name. Again, the word libero does not just name a position, it shapes our reality by causing us to look for players in such roles (and probably led to those players choosing to play those positions in the first place).

The original libero, Franz Beckenbauer

Linguistic differences can also affect how people around the world view fouls. Just as different words are used to describe different positions, so too do words exist that make people more aware of, and sensitive to, certain types of foul play.

As a Spanish-speaker, the word I am most familiar with is la plancha. Again, its literal meaning (iron, as in the thing you get wrinkles out of clothes with) does not denote its usage in soccer, which is as a straight-legged, cleats-up tackle. Because there is a single word that describes this type of tackle, Spanish-speakers are more likely to be aware of the offense (and thus take offense at it being employed against them).

This is not to say that non-Spanish-speaking players are not sensitive to straight-legged, cleats-up tackles (speakers of all languages like their ankles in one piece). But the fact that a word exists to describe the offense heightens Spanish-speakers’ awareness of it.

I have become most familiar with la plancha during my time refereeing Spanish-speaking teams. Nothing is guaranteed to enrage these Latino players more than la plancha, and as a referee it is essential to keep this in mind. The same can be seen in the professional game, where teams from Latin America can often be seen gesturing to the referee after what they interpret as la plancha done by an opponent (the gesture usually involves a straight arm pointed toward the ground with the hand put flat to show the cleats exposed).

La plancha in action

Certainly, players take offense at these types of tackles around the world. But I would argue that they are more frowned upon in Latin America. Red cards are often given to players who employ la plancha in Argentina; similar tackles in the Premier League often go unpunished. This is a difference in the style of play in these two countries, but it also reflects the fact that one country has a language to describe exactly this type of tackle, and the other does not.

Enganche, trequartista, libero, and la plancha are all examples of words used in soccer that don’t just describe the game, but in fact shape how their speakers see the game. Soccer may be the simplest and most universal sport, but the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis shows how language causes people around the world to see the game very differently.

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Yokohama F. Marinos player Daisuke Sakata (shockingly) sports long hair and a goatee

Long hair would not be the only shout-out to soccer’s European origins. The names of many J-League clubs incorporated words from foreign languages, ranging from English to Spanish to Italian and beyond. But the names were not to be simple linguistic heists.

As Japanese people have done with so many foreign influences, J-League officials took these foreign words and combined them with local references. The end result is a set of clubs with some of the most bizarre names in the world, almost all of which have an interesting story behind them. Here are some of the best.

Some team names incorporate foreign words simply because they “sound cool.” Take, for example, Jubilo Iwata. The team, based in the city of Iwata, simply added an interesting-sounding foreign word to get their name. As the team’s official website puts it:

“Jubilo” means “delight” in Portuguese and Spanish. We named our club Jubilo with a great wish to provide joy and emotion for our supporters and all other people.

English makes an appearance in the name of Shimizu S-Pulse. The name is basically a nonsense mishmash: “S-Pulse is a combination of the S from Shizuoka, Shimizu, and Soccer, and Pulse from English to mean the spirit of all those who support the team.”

Some J-League team names use foreign words in combination with local references in interesting ways. The Antlers in Kashima Antlers, for example, refers to the city name, “which literally means ‘deer island’.”

Similarly, Nagoya Grampus Eight (the team Arsene Wenger coached before heading to Arsenal) has a name with local references in a foreign tongue. The team’s name is derived from the two most prominent symbols of Nagoya: “the two golden grampus dolphins on the top of Nagoya Castle, and the Maru-Hachi (Circle eight), the city’s official symbol.”

A grampus dolphin

Sanfrecce Hiroshima mixes two languages in one word. “Sanfrecce” is an invented word that combines the Japanese word for three (“san”) along with “frecce,” which is Italian for arrows. Frecce refers to the legend of Mori Motonari, who who “told his three sons that while an arrow might be easily snapped, three arrows would not be broken and urged them to work for the good of the clan and its retainers.”

Consadole Sapporo might have the most difficult to decipher. So, let Wikipedia do the explaining:

The club name of “Consadole” is made from ‘consado’ as reverse of Japanese word Dosanko (DO-SA-N-KO, ???­ = people of Hokkaido) and ‘Ole’. The name is to symbolize the strong feelings in their hearts that all citizens of Hokkaido have for the club.

Tourists who visit Kyoto often experience temple-fatigue. Japan’s former capital is well known throughout the world for the more than one thousand temples that dot its landscape. It is wonder, then, that the local J-League team’s name makes reference to the importance of religion. The “sanga” in Kyoto Sanga “is a Sanskrit term meaning ‘group’ or ‘club’, often used to denote Buddhist congregations.” Until recently, Ji Sung Park’s former team was known as Kyoto Purple Sanga, the color “reflecting Kyoto’s status as Japan’s ancient imperial city.”

Mito Hollyhock? Yes, it really is the name of a J-League club. The Hollyhock in the Mito-based team’s name refers to the hollyhock flower that features on the “family crest of the Tokugawa clan who governed from Mito in the Edo period.”

And finally, what is the “thespa” in the name of Thespa Kusatsu, you ask? Italian? Spanish? Portuguese? Um, no. That would be “the spa,” as in the spas of the Kustasu region. Perhaps the oddest usage of foreign words in a J-League team name. But the spa sure does look lovely, doesn’t it?

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La Pulga Atómica

Argentines might just be the modern masters of nicknames. Many Argentine players have creative and unique unofficial names. A few of my favorites:Sergio Aguero, Atletico Madrid’s young Argentine forward, has proven this year that he has the potential to be as good as Messi. His nickname rivals that of the atomic flea, too. Aguero is known as “El Kun” because of his apparent resemblance of a Japanese anime character (kun is a title often added to the names of boys in Japanese, e.g. Sergio-kun).

El Kun

Carlos Tevez could, quite possibly, be the ugliest soccer player ever. I always assumed his nickname “El Apache” was a derogatory reference to the native American group, but it turns out he is called this because he is from a barrio commonly known as Fuerte Apache.

El Apache

Tevez’s traveling partner in recent years has been Javier Mascherano. The defensive midfielder went with Tevez to Corinthians and later to West Ham (he’s since moved on to Liverpool). Though Hammers fans only briefly witnessed Mascherano’s talents, they led to him being dubbed el jefecito (the little chief) back home in Argentina. Liverpool fans will now be hoping that he bosses games at Anfield like he did for years in South America and lives up to his title.

Pablo Aimar has experienced a revival of sorts this year playing at Real Zaragoza after falling out of favor with Valencia. He has returned to the free-flowing style that led Argentines to nickname him el payaso (the clown). His wild hair (which he had cropped at the time of his appearance in the classic Adidas Footballitis commercials) does also make him resemble Crusty the Clown.

El Payaso

Javier Zanetti was controversially left off of Argentina’s 2006 World Cup team. Too bad because if he had played, we would have been able to hear his nickname: el Pupi. The blog Mexican Wave thinks this comes from the name of the foundation of the same name Zanetti runs (it helps impoverished youth in Argentina). I’m not sure if this is right (I suspect the nickname may have come before the foundation’s name), but it’s a sure bet that Zanetti’s nickname isn’t anything most English speakers wondered when they first read it.

El Pupi

The most unique origin for a nickname goes to Inter striker Julio Cruz. Wikipedia tells his story:

His nickname, “the gardener”, “El Jardinero” in Spanish, was given to him at a young in age in Argentina. He was working as a gardner [sic] for lowly local team Banfield, cutting the grass and looking after the pitch, and when coach Oscar López was missing a player one day for a practise match, he was called over to make up the numbers. After noticing his talent, Banfield signed him. Since then Julio has always been known as El Jardinero.

El Jardinero

And to finish off, a few Argentine blasts from the past with excellent nicknames:

• Marcelo Gallardo: el muñeco (the doll)
• Germán Burgos: el mono (the monkey)
• Ariel Ortega: el burrito (the little donkey)
• Claudio Lopez: el piojo (the louse)
• Juan Sebastian Verón: la brujita (the little witch)

The original name given to the sport is the most logical: football. Though the term has a Neanderthalish tinge to it (“Me Tarzan. My foot kick ball.”), football has been used to refer to the game for centuries. In his book The Ball is Round, David Goldblatt quotes an edict issued in 1477 by British king Edward IV:

No person shall practise any unlawful games such as dice, quoits, football, and such games. (17)

Edward IV, football hater

By the time formal rules were established for the game in the 19th century, the term football had a long history in Britain. Its application to the newly formalized sport was natural. The split with the sport which would become rugby in the middle of the 19th century saw the sport of the oval ball game take a name from the town in which its rules were formed. The town of Rugby is now known more for the sport invented within it than its status as the birthplace of Norman Lockyer, who would go on to discover the element helium.

Football’s rise in popularity came at a time when the British Empire was at its peak. The sun never set on the British Empire and neither did its football-playing subjects. As Brits moved around the world, they were the greatest advocates of the new game, spreading the word more effectively than any religious evangelicals.

In many countries, the term “football” was taken directly from the English and used as a loanword in the native language. Thus, the French, Italians, Germans, Argentines, and Brazilians all initially awkwardly used the term football to refer to this new British sporting import. Many have concocted new names but ironically the French, notoriously prickly on matters of language, still refer to the sport as “football.”

The French Football Federation logo

Many countries would transliterate the name football into their own languages. Football became fútbol in Spanish and futebol in Portuguese. Though these terms have essentially become part of those two languages, they still strike me as a bit odd at times. Some in these countries also saw these transliterations as odd and attempted to use native words to refer to football. The full name of Spain’s Real Betis, for example, is Real Betis Balompie, Balompie is the literal translation (balón being ball and pie being foot) of football, but rarely used today.

Other countries were more successful in having native words stick to refer to football. Both German (fussball or fußball) and Dutch (voetbal) use the literal translation approach that proved unsuccessful in Spain.

The Italian term for football, however, is calcio, which bears no resemblance to the English word. Calcio literally means kick in Italian, but the name comes originally from an ancient game played in Italy during medieval times. The game, called Calcio Fiorentino as it was played in Florence, involved 27 players per team using hands, feet and utter brutality (click here for a video) to propel a ball into the opposing team’s goal.

Calcio Fiorentino is reenacted annually, as in this picture

Calcio’s application to modern football was an intentionally ideological decision. When football was brought into Italy by the British, it was met with some resistance. As David Goldblatt points out,

The earnest cadres of the Socialist Party’s youth wing spent their 1910 congress decrying modern competitive sport as a degrading and exploitative spectacles that was contributing to the degeneration of people. (151)

If football was degrading and exploitative, the many Italians who took it didn’t seem to mind. Football’s growing popularity meant that opposing it on ideological grounds was no longer feasible. So, in what Goldblatt describes as a “symbolic victory based on an invented history,” (154) the Italians renamed football calcio, implying a (nonexistent) link between their ancient sport and the new game.

As a young child, I remember asking my parents why we called a sport involving catching and throwing a ball football when surely soccer deserved the name. In the United States, football refers to American football, a spinoff of rugby, a sport which grew widely in this country before soccer did. Thus, with the term football already in use, organizers used a shortened version of Association Football (the full name of the sport) to refer to soccer.

Soccer, American style

There are a few countries that also use the term soccer, including Australia (in order to avoid conflict with its own Australian Rules football) and New Zealand (I assume the Kiwis simply use the same term as their larger island neighbors).

Surprisingly, Japan also uses the term soccer, or more precisely sakka (???? in Japanese). Like Spanish and Portuguese speakers who had earlier made football a part of their own languages, the Japanese also transliterated a foreign word into their own language.

Sakka a la J League

The name the Japanese use to refer to the sport has to due with historical circumstance. Though soccer had been played for decades in Japan, it only became prominent on the sports scene in the country in the second half of the 20th century. At this time, the sun had long set on the British Empire, but a new American Empire has risen to replace it. Thus, although the national organization is called the Japanese Football Association, the Japanese people have chosen an American term to refer to the sport.