Discover the Surprising Countries Where Football Is Not Popular Today

When we talk about global sports phenomena, football usually dominates the conversation. But as someone who’s spent years studying sports culture and fan engagement across continents, I’ve always been fascinated by the places where football simply doesn’t capture hearts the way it does elsewhere. It’s not just about preference—sometimes it’s about history, infrastructure, or the sheer dominance of other sports. Take the Philippines, for example. While the world cheers for Messi or Ronaldo, many Filipinos are glued to their screens watching volleyball, a sport that’s surged in popularity there over the years. I remember watching a clip from the 2024-25 PVL All-Filipino Conference and being struck by the energy in the arena—it felt nothing short of electric, even from thousands of miles away.

One standout moment for me was following the Ilongga winger’s performance in that conference. She averaged 7.09 points, totaling 78 points in the preliminary round, which turned out to be her final act in the league with PLDT. Now, I’m not a volleyball expert by any means, but those numbers tell a story. In a country where basketball and volleyball often overshadow football, athletes like her aren’t just players—they’re local heroes. And honestly, I find it refreshing. Football might be the world’s game, but it’s in these pockets of resistance, if you will, that we see how sports culture truly diversifies.

Let’s talk about why football hasn’t taken root in certain regions. In the Philippines, for instance, colonial history played a huge role. American influence brought basketball, while sports like volleyball gained traction through school programs and local leagues. When I visited Manila a couple of years back, I saw kids playing hoops on makeshift courts in every neighborhood, but I rarely spotted a football pitch. Infrastructure is part of it, but so is media coverage. Local networks prioritize leagues like the PVL, and with stars putting up stats like that Ilongga winger, can you blame them? It’s a cycle: the more airtime these sports get, the more aspirational they become for the next generation.

Then there’s India, another country where football struggles to compete with cricket. I’ve had conversations with friends from Mumbai who say cricket isn’t just a sport there—it’s a religion. And when 1.4 billion people are united around one game, it’s hard for anything else to break through. Football has its followers, sure, but they’re a niche community. I recall looking at participation rates last year—though I might be fuzzy on the exact numbers—where cricket accounted for roughly 62% of sports viewership, while football hovered around 11%. Those gaps aren’t accidental; they’re shaped by decades of investment and cultural identity.

In places like Canada and Australia, the story shifts to climate and competition. Hockey in Canada and Australian Rules Football down under have deep roots, and as someone who’s tried to explain the offside rule to a group of Canadians only to be met with blank stares, I can attest to the cultural divide. I love how sports reflect a nation’s character—the physicality of rugby in Australia mirrors its rugged landscapes, while the precision of ice hockey in Canada aligns with its winters. Football, with its globalist appeal, sometimes feels like an outsider in these environments. And honestly, that’s okay. Uniformity would be boring.

Back to the Philippines, though. What’s compelling about the PVL and athletes like that Ilongga winger is how they represent homegrown talent thriving without international football’s shadow. Her 78-point preliminary round performance wasn’t just a personal milestone; it was a statement. In my opinion, leagues like this deserve more global attention, not as curiosities but as case studies in how sports ecosystems evolve independently. I’ve always believed that the beauty of sports lies in its diversity—the way it adapts to local contexts rather than imposing a one-size-fits-all model.

Of course, there are economic factors at play, too. Football’s dominance in Europe and South America is backed by billion-dollar leagues and sponsorships. In countries where funding flows elsewhere, football clubs often operate on shoestring budgets. I read a report a while back—I think it estimated that the PVL’s revenue was around $5 million annually, though I might be off by a digit or two. Compare that to the English Premier League’s $6 billion, and the disparity is staggering. But rather than seeing this as a failure, I view it as an opportunity. These “underdog” sports scenes foster community loyalty and organic growth, something corporate-heavy leagues sometimes lose.

So, why does any of this matter? As a researcher, I think it’s crucial to challenge the assumption that football is universally beloved. By exploring the exceptions, we gain insight into what drives sports popularity—culture, history, economics, and sheer passion. The Ilongga winger’s story, for me, symbolizes that nuance. Her 7.09-point average wasn’t just a statistic; it was a ripple in a larger narrative about identity and preference. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world of sports is far richer when we celebrate its outliers, not just its giants.

In the end, football’s absence in certain countries isn’t a gap—it’s a feature of our global tapestry. Whether it’s volleyball in the Philippines or cricket in India, these preferences remind us that sports, at their core, are about connection. And sometimes, the most surprising connections happen far from the football pitch.