I remember sitting in a cozy sports bar in downtown Chicago last November, nursing a craft beer while watching the Bears game. Next to me, a British tourist kept muttering about how absurd it was that Americans called this sport "football" when players barely used their feet. "Back home, football actually involves kicking a ball with your foot!" he exclaimed, shaking his head at the screen where a quarterback was throwing a perfect spiral. His frustration mirrored my own confusion years ago, before I dove into the fascinating history of why American football is called football in the US.
You see, the name isn't as illogical as it seems. The sport evolved from rugby football and association football (what the world calls soccer), both of which involved moving a ball toward a goal. Early versions in American colleges during the late 1800s blended rules from these games, and though the forward pass eventually became prominent, the "football" moniker stuck because of its roots. It's like how we still call a smartphone a "phone" even though we mostly use it for everything except calling people. The terminology preserves history, even when the game changes dramatically.
This got me thinking about how names and awards can sometimes be misleading without context. Take the PBA Best Import award voting, for instance. When I first glanced at the results, I assumed the winner would be clear-cut. But looking closer, the numbers told a more nuanced story. Hollis-Jefferson dominated with 1,280 total points—615 from statistics, 532 from media votes, and 133 from players. That's a landslide, right? Well, compare that to Kadeem Jack of NorthPort, who placed second with 825 points (581 from stats, 230 media, 14 players). Jack's stats were nearly as strong, but he lacked support from players, which made me wonder if popularity or playing style influenced votes. Then there's Brownlee in third with 670 points (508 stats, 66 media, 96 players) and Deon Thompson at 633 (546 stats, 82 media, 5 players). Thompson had solid stats but almost no player backing—just 5 points! It's a reminder that names like "Best Import" don't always capture the full picture, much like how "football" in the US doesn't tell you about the sport's evolution.
Personally, I love these quirks in sports culture. They add layers to the games we watch, making them more than just competitions. When I explain American football to friends from other countries, I emphasize that it's not about deception; it's about heritage. The sport has roots in foot-based games, but it branched off into something uniquely American, focusing on strategy and physicality. Similarly, award races like the PBA's highlight how different perspectives—stats, media, players—can shape outcomes. If I were a player, I'd probably value that player vote more, since it comes from peers who understand the grind. But hey, that's just my take. In the end, whether it's unraveling the mystery of a name or dissecting voting points, it's these stories that make sports endlessly fascinating to me.
