You’ve seen the highlight reels. A player scores six in a single game. Commentators lose their minds. Social media erupts. “Two hat-tricks!” they scream. But is that accurate—or just excitement talking? Let’s dig into the unwritten rules of football folklore.
What Exactly Is a Hat-Trick? (And Why It’s Not Just About the Number)
The term hat-trick originated in cricket, not football. A bowler taking three wickets in three consecutive balls would earn a hat from his club. Simple. Symbolic. Football borrowed the idea—three goals in one game—and ran with it. But it never adopted the idea of multiples. There’s no “double hat-trick” badge. No “triple crown” for nine goals. The magic is in the three.
And that’s the rub. Scoring six doesn’t mean you’ve passed the hat-trick threshold twice. It means you’ve shattered it. Completely. Utterly. In a 2018 Bundesliga match, Lewandowski scored five goals in nine minutes. People still talk about it. But nobody says he got one and two-thirds hat-tricks. They say he went nuclear.
Because here’s the reality: a hat-trick isn’t a stat. It’s a story. It’s the moment a player steps out of the squad and becomes the show. It’s the jersey raised to the crowd. The chant. The post-match interview where the manager says, “He was unstoppable today.” A sixth goal doesn’t write a new story—it just makes the old one louder.
The Six-Goal Reality: When Stats Outrun Tradition
Only a handful of players have scored six in a game. Ernie Taylor in 1935. Syd Pugh in 1937. And more recently, Achille Emaná in 2015, netting six for Al-Rayyan against Al-Khor. Then there’s László Kubala—Barcelona legend—who reportedly scored eight in a single match in 1952. Eight. Try wrapping your head around that. But even then, nobody says he got two and two-thirds hat-tricks. That changes everything, doesn’t it?
We’re far from it when it comes to formal recognition. FIFA doesn’t award extra medals. Leagues don’t track double hat-tricks. The record books list goals per game, not hat-trick multiples. So while six goals imply two sets of three, the sport itself doesn’t count them that way. It’s like saying scoring 99 runs in cricket is “almost three hat-tricks.” Technically coherent. Culturally absurd.
And yet—fans do it. Broadcasters do it. Pundits say, “He’s got two hat-tricks tonight!” during live commentary. Why? Because it’s a shorthand. A way to emphasize absurd dominance. But it’s not official. It never has been.
Is a Double Hat-Trick a Real Term?
Double hat-trick is used colloquially—but not officially. It appears in headlines, tweets, and fan forums. But you won’t find it in FIFA’s rulebook. Or in UEFA’s match reports. Or in the Premier League’s statistical guidelines. It’s real in conversation. Not in record-keeping.
Here’s the twist: some statisticians do track it. Opta, for example, recognizes a “five-goal haul” or “six-goal game” as a discrete event. But they don’t break it into multiple hat-tricks. Because doing so would open a can of worms. What about four goals? Is that one hat-trick plus one extra? Then why isn’t five goals one hat-trick and two singles? The system collapses under its own logic.
Why We Want to Count Six Goals as Two Hat-Tricks
Because humans love patterns. We see threes. We celebrate threes. We remember threes. Three wishes. Three musketeers. Three-peat championships. So when a player hits six, our brain goes: “Oh! That’s two of those cool threes!” It’s not about rules. It’s about rhythm.
But—and this is important—football doesn’t reward rhythm. It rewards results. A player scoring six in a 7–1 win isn’t celebrated for “two hat-tricks.” He’s celebrated for dismantling a defense. For humiliation. For legacy. And that’s the gap: between statistical neatness and emotional impact.
Historical Cases: When Six Goals Became Legend (Not Math)
Take Dimitar Berbatov’s six-goal performance for Manchester United in 2010. A 7–1 win over Blackburn. He scored in the 17th, 25th, 55th, 67th, 80th, and 90th minutes. Every strike cleaner than the last. The headlines? “Berbatov hits six!” “Bulgarian blitz!” “Double hat-trick?” A few mentioned it. Most didn’t.
Why? Because the narrative wasn’t about multiplication. It was about redemption. Berbatov had been criticized for lethargy. For “not trying.” This match silenced that. It wasn’t two hat-tricks. It was one statement.
Then there’s Joe Payne, who scored 10 goals for Luton Town in 1936 against Bristol Rovers. Ten. In a 12–0 win. Did anyone say he got three hat-tricks and one goal? Of course not. They said he rewrote history. That’s the difference: records live in newspapers. Hat-tricks live in memory.
Scoring Six vs. Scoring Two Hat-Tricks: A False Comparison
Let’s be clear about this: you cannot score two hat-tricks in one game in the same way you cannot have two birthdays in one day. A hat-trick is an event, not a quantity. It’s like saying someone had two weddings because they exchanged vows and then cut the cake. Technically two big moments. But one ceremony.
And that’s exactly where the confusion lies. People treat goals like currency. “Three goals = one hat-trick.” So “six goals = two.” But football isn’t arithmetic. It’s theater. A hat-trick is a solo act. A six-goal game is a one-man show. Different categories.
Think of it like music. One song with three verses is not three separate songs. A player scoring in the 10th, 30th, and 70th minutes completes a narrative arc. Adding three more goals extends that arc. It doesn’t restart it.
What Statisticians Say
Data is still lacking on how often "double hat-tricks" are formally recorded. But experts agree: no major statistical body tracks them as separate events. RSSSF (Rec.Sport.Soccer Statistics Foundation) logs total goals per game. They don’t divide them into hat-trick units. Because—honestly—it is unclear what purpose that would serve.
Would it change how we rank players? Would Haaland be “more legendary” if we said he once achieved 1.67 hat-tricks instead of five goals? That would be ridiculous. And yet—we almost do it.
Fans vs. Officials: The Cultural Split
Fans love the phrase “double hat-trick.” It’s catchy. It’s dramatic. It fits in a tweet. But officials don’t use it. Press kits, match reports, award nominations—they stick to “six goals in a match.” Why? Because precision matters. And because once you start counting partial hat-tricks, where do you stop?
Imagine a player scores four. Is that one hat-trick plus a bonus goal? Or is the fourth goal the beginning of a new one? The problem is, there’s no reset. No whistle. No intermission. It’s one continuous performance. Breaking it into chunks distorts the reality of the game.
Frequently Asked Questions
Can You Get Two Hat-Tricks in One Game?
Not officially. You can score six goals. That’s undeniable. But the term “two hat-tricks” is informal. It’s a fan term. A media flourish. There’s no mechanism in football to “complete” a hat-trick and then start a new one in the same match. Once you’ve scored three, the next goal is just another goal. Not the first of a second hat-trick.
What’s the Difference Between a Hat-Trick and a Brace?
A brace means two goals. A hat-trick, three. Four goals? A haul. Five? A glut. Six? A massacre. The language evolves with the absurdity. But only three gets a named milestone. Why? Tradition. Superstition, even. Three is magic. Two is good. Four is excessive. But only three has a name.
And isn’t that strange? We have words for everything—except the ones in between.
Has Anyone Ever Scored More Than Six in a Game?
Yes. Stephane Spentza scored 16 goals in a single match in 2002, playing for AS Adema’s opponents in Madagascar—but that was a protest, and all goals were own goals. Then there’s Arthur Friedenreich, rumored to have scored 14 in 1919, though records are shaky. More credible: Joe Payne’s 10 for Luton. Still, none of these are broken down into hat-trick units. They’re just… monstrous performances.
The Bottom Line
So—does six goals count as two hat-tricks? Technically, mathematically, if you’re playing FIFA and counting on your fingers—yes. But in football culture, history, and official records? No. And I am convinced that’s better. Because reducing a six-goal rampage to “two hat-tricks” diminishes it. It’s not two moments. It’s one earthquake.
I find this overrated—the idea that every three goals is a new milestone. Greatness shouldn’t be segmented. A player who scores six doesn’t get two trophies. He gets a place in folklore. That’s worth more.
So next time you see someone say, “He got two hat-tricks tonight,” smile. Nod. But know the truth. He didn’t get two. He got one: a six-goal masterpiece. And that changes everything.