The ever-evolving landscape of arena names is a fascinating phenomenon, particularly noticeable in Sweden, where commercial partnerships frequently lead to rebranding. This constant shift can be confusing and often generates a disconnect between the official name and the name used by the public. The Avicii Arena, formerly known as the Globen, exemplifies this perfectly. Despite the official name change almost four years ago, most people still refer to it as the Globen in everyday conversation. The new name feels almost like a temporary hat, easily replaceable, unlike the iconic, globe-shaped structure itself, which has become a Stockholm landmark. This resistance to adopting the new name speaks volumes about the enduring power of established identifiers and the public’s attachment to familiar terms.
This temporary quality of arena names is reinforced by the frequent changes occurring in other venues. The Tele2 Arena, situated next to the Globen, recently became the 3Arena, marking yet another shift dictated by corporate sponsorship. In the past decade, the area also hosted a venue called En Arena (One Arena), hinting at a rather unimaginative naming trend. This opens up speculation about future naming possibilities, with potential tie-ins with brands like Four Roses or Four Seasons for the older, as yet unnumbered, Hovet arena. This constant rebranding cycle raises the question of how long these names will last and whether they will ever truly resonate with the public. Will they become ingrained in the city’s vocabulary or remain mere corporate labels, easily discarded and replaced?
Adding to this naming carousel is the renaming of Friends Arena in Solna to Strawberry Arena. Neither of these names truly reflects the venue’s essence, making it intriguing to see which one, if either, gains popular traction. The pattern of corporate-driven name changes extends beyond Stockholm. Malmö Stadion, formerly Swedbank Stadion, is now Eleda Stadion. Växjö Arena transitioned from Myresjö Arena to Visma Arena. Eskilstuna’s Stiga Sports Arena became Volvo CE Arena. Even Katrineholm’s Fastighetsbyrån Arena transformed into Kronfågel Ishall. And Umeå Ishall, after a series of names like Winpos Arena, A3 Arena, T3 Center, and Skycom Arena, is currently known as Visionite Arena. This rapid turnover of names not only affects public recognition but also creates a historical disconnect, obscuring the venues’ past identities.
Among this array of ever-shifting names, some stand out for their unique qualities, either due to their evocative nature or the stories they tell. The Färs & Frosta Sparbank Arena in Lund, named after a merger of two local savings banks, held a certain charm that was lost when the bank itself merged and the arena became the less colorful Sparbanken Skåne Arena. Such changes highlight the ephemeral nature of these names and how they are often tied to the fortunes of their sponsoring companies. The name change not only simplifies the title but also erases a piece of local history, replacing a unique, regionally significant identifier with a more generic, corporate brand.
Another memorable name is the Löfbergs Lila Arena (Löfbergs Purple Arena) in Karlstad. Its unusual color-based designation sets it apart, yet anecdotally, it seems the local population largely stuck to calling it “the ice hall.” This disconnect between the official and commonly used names further underscores the challenge faced by these rebranded venues in establishing a strong public identity. Even the awkwardness of articulating ”Löfbergs Lila Arena” in natural conversation likely contributed to the preference for the simpler, more familiar ”ice hall.” The arena’s name has since been shortened to just Löfbergs Arena, perhaps in an attempt to improve its adoption.
This trend of corporate-sponsored arena names raises several questions. Do these names truly serve their purpose of brand recognition, or do they become lost in a sea of similarly named venues? Does the constant renaming undermine the sense of place and history associated with these locations? And, perhaps most importantly, do these official names genuinely reflect how people refer to these spaces in their daily lives? The case of the Globen, stubbornly retaining its popular name despite the official change to Avicii Arena, clearly indicates a disconnect between corporate branding and public perception. It remains to be seen whether other renamed venues will face the same challenge in forging a lasting connection with their audiences. The ongoing saga of arena naming underscores the enduring power of ingrained habits and the challenges faced by brands in shaping public perception, even in the most visible of spaces.
