Chasing Rabbits: Chapter 11- Digging up the past

In 1898 an immigrant Swedish farmer and his son unearthed an amazing find. What they dug up that day while clearing stumps for farmland would bring the world of archaeology to its knees. There, clutched in the tangled talons of a Poplars roots was a magical stone. Prying the trees fingers free from its precious possession, the two sod busters noticed its face scarred with mysterious markings. What was thought at first to be an Indian almanac by the two was later found to be old Norse.The inscription translated as follows:

Eight Gotalanders and 22 Northmen on this acquisition journey from Vinland far to the west. We had a camp by two shelters one day's journey north from this stone. We were fishing one day. After we came home, found 10 men red from blood and dead. Ave Maria. save from evil. There are 10 men by the inland sea to look after our ships fourteen days journey from this peninsula . Year 1362

Was this really carved by the Vikings? Had they ventured here to the interior centuries before Columbus? Would the history books would need re-writing, and all that we knew about transoceanic ancient voyages altered?

As ancient battles were fought with longswords, so today but with words. Debates raged over the next century with almost all Scandinavian linguist dismissing the 200 pound, couch cushion shaped rock as a bad hoax. Still however, some ardent adherents find enough evidence to keep the long ships of belief still rowing.

For most Minnesotans however, folks of Scandinavian descent, the tale was just too delicious to dismiss. Any flies of fiction were brushed away from the dinner table so these children of the Norse could enjoy spooning in notions of their noble past.

Fast forward 62 years.

In 1960 Minnesota joined as an expansion team to the National Football League. But what would their team name be? Minnesota had bears and blizzards, wolves and water, lakes and linx, fox and forests. But there seemed to be only one name to choose from.

So thoroughly burned into the psyche of every Minnesotan was their Nordic heritage. From the moment they brush their teeth in the morning mirror to the day’s end when they finally turn out the lights, they feel, they know, they sense that they were once a part of something greater.

They sacked Lindisfarne, they slew Scots, the Picts they put to the sword. They founded Dublin, left Hamburg a burning ruin and Paris, ah yes Paris, they raped like a common whore, again, and again.

The dread of them spread like a plague. Europe was gangrenous with fear, rotting in angst, trembling in anticipation. Such horror inspired those witnessing to confess "Never before in Britain has such a terror appeared".

For the fat, balding Minnesotan merchant it meant power. No matter how portly and pudgy he might be today, in the back of his mind he is always saying “you shoulda seen me 1,000 years ago when I was in my prime.”.

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(Behind the scenes: Minnesota beat Pittsburgh 34 to 27. Wembly, one of the poorest stadiums I have ever been in for traffic flow, sold out 90,000 seats to an eclectic mix of nationalities)