THE LOST VIKING SAGA

The next day dawned with a brilliant blue sky and warming temperatures. It was the perfect day to enjoy a rest from their labors. When they had eaten breakfast, the Norsemen wandered out to the drill field, which had been transformed into three playing fields of some sort. Wide nets slightly higher than the height of a man stood on both ends. White lines were painted at even intervals the width of the field from one long side of the field to the other. Several English soldiers were passing a leather ball around with their feet. Some of them were quite skillful at juggling the ball around, bumping it with their body and head, and sending it the direction they desired. The Norsemen watched in fascination, impressed with the skill the Englanders were showing. Not once did any of them ever touch the ball with their hands. The English soldier, David, waved at them from across the field and sprinted toward the group.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you ready to play some football?”

“I am afraid we do not know the game, David,” answered Ebbn.

“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s easy to learn and we will be making the teams up equally with those who know how to play and those who don’t. It’s a simple game really. You can handle the ball with any part of your body but your hands. The main purpose is to move the ball down the field, passing from player to player, and attempting to kick it into the goal which is guarded by the other team’s goal keeper. The keeper is the only player allowed to use his hands to stop the ball. Each team has eleven men on the field, some playing defense, trying to keep the other team from getting the ball to the goal, some playing midfield, trying to move the ball down field to score, and some playing offense, trying to kick the ball into the net in order to score a goal. There are a few other nuances and simple bits of rules, but we can teach you those as we go along.”

“It sounds simple enough,” said Theobrand. “It is somewhat like Knattleikr without the stick or the tackling.”

“Oh, there is tackling, Theobrand,” replied David. “The difference may be that the tackling is directed toward the ball and not toward a person. In football, you tackle to direct the ball away from your opponent’s feet. As long as you make contact with the ball and not their body, it is a legal tackle.”

“Well, we are not going to learn any better standing here,” declared Grim. “Let us just play this football then. It is a game so it is not like we are losing anything by playing poorly.”

“Fantastic. I will gather the lads together and we will put together the teams. I believe we have enough men to run three different games simultaneously. Follow me if you please.”

Olaf and the men fell in behind David, trailing him as he headed for the center of the first playing field. In a loud voice he called out to the other fields, “All right then, lads! Everyone head over here to work out teams!”

Within ten minutes, David had organized everyone present into six teams of 15 players each. The four extra, he explained to the Norsemen, were for substituting men into the game to spell tired players. The men dispersed, two teams to a field, and positions were assigned for those who would take the field first. Soon all three fields were awash with activity. The Norsemen were slow at first to catch on, but steadily improved throughout the first match. Bjorn proved especially adept at goal keeper, his vast size giving a reach that far surpassed the other goal keepers. His team won their first match, three goals to one. It was decided he would remain in the goal for the remainder of the day’s matches.

Around the noon hour, three lorries arrived on the edge of the drill area and began to unload tables, chairs, and a large amount of food, including a roasted pig. Barrels of ale were set up on one of the tables, while the food was laid out all along a line of four tables butted against each other end to end. They had played their second game of the day when time was called for lunch. Each man went through the serving line, balancing a plate piled high with food in one hand and a mug of cold ale in the other. Norsemen and Englanders sat alongside one another, laughing and eating and laughing some more. All along the tables stories of great feats on the football pitch, both real and exaggerated were told with robust zeal. Many trips were made back and forth between the serving tables and the seating area, until finally, the food was mostly consumed and the barrels of ale empty. The men lounged around contentedly, having no desire to move for the time being until one of the teams challenged another to a rematch which began a new rise in bravado that culminated with David suggesting a tournament of sorts to see which team was truly the most talented.

A chart was drawn up with the teams and a simple bracket of play devised that would determine a winner by evening. Cries of victory and frustrated growls of defeat resounded all around the drill area for the next three hours. At the end of the day, it was the team that included Ebbn, Bjorn, Grim, and David against the team that Olaf, Theobrand, and Ivar played on that would play in the game to determine the champion of the day. Some of the English soldiers began taking bets, most of them favoring the team with Bjorn, who had only allowed three goals all day long. Olaf’s team, however, had scored the most goals of any team playing causing the odds to easily swing in their favor if they could figure out a way to overcome Bjorn’s great size and reach.

The kickoff took place with Ebbn in possession of the ball. He passed to David, who looking very much like the football virtuoso he was in civilian life before the war, easily dribbled the ball around the defenders and scored in the first thirty seconds of the game. The next goal was booted into the bottom left corner of the goal by Theobrand past a diving Bjorn. The score still stood at a one to one tie at half time. Olaf took command early in the second half of the game, breezing past the defenders and sending a shot toward goal that Bjorn diverted at the last second, setting up a corner kick. One of the English soldiers took the kick. It sailed into the middle of a mass of players in front of the goal and was headed in just out of Bjorn’s reach by Ivar. In an instant Olaf’s team had a one goal lead. It remained that way, each team going back and forth along the pitch, making shots on goal, only to have them blocked. With just a few seconds left, David scored the tying goal with a sliding shot that left most of the men in awe.

They played an extra fifteen minutes and then fifteen more to see if anyone could break the tie, but the game was destined to be decided by penalty kicks. Each team chose five men to take alternating shots on goal and whoever was ahead at the end would win. Grim was up first. His shot went wide of goal. The score remained tied. For the other team, another of the Englanders who played on a professional team took his shot. He faked Bjorn into thinking he was going the other way and placed it quite nicely into the opposite corner. Olaf’s team again had the lead. Ebbn shot next. He had not scored a goal the entire day. Much to the surprise of everyone he kicked it in decisively to tie the game again. Ivar stepped to the line and addressed the ball. With a mighty kick it sailed over the crossbar and continued rolling for quite some time. The next two players on each team were equally unsuccessful. This left it up to David. The tension rose as David recognized the man stepping into the goal to face him. The man was a star player from a team that was the greatest rival of the team David played for in civilian life. The frenzy of wagering amongst the English soldiers increased as they all anticipated what was about to be played out before them.

There was a great stillness that fell over the field. David stepped up to the ball. The goal keeper from Olaf’s team was very talented. He stood in the goal box staring out toward his adversary with a look of fierce intimidation. David took three steps backward, and then quickly came up on the ball faster than the goal keeper expected. At first the kick looked like it might go wide, but the spin David had managed to put on it with his kick bent it back into the top left corner of the net just out of the reach of the keeper. Shouts of both victory and defeat erupted from among the spectators. All of the pressure now lay upon David’s rival’s shoulders and on the broad back of Bjorn the Giant who would have to receive the kick. A hush fell once again upon those assembled. The rival kicked the ball low. It shot like an arrow away from Bjorn toward the lower right corner of the goal. The immense Norseman dove; laying himself out his full length along the width of the goal. The ball just brushed his fingers, but it was enough to direct it outward so that it hit the right post at precisely the proper angle careening it back out onto the pitch.

Bjorn lay on the ground surprised. It wasn’t until his entire team had lifted him from the ground and started parading him around the field that he realized he had saved the game. The losers were just as enthusiastic, joining in the parade and helping the others hoist the considerable weight of the Norseman into the air. David and his rival smiled at one another as they rushed to join the celebration. Olaf couldn’t help but think that this would be a very noble way to abolish war. Simply have the two enemies in contention meet on a football pitch and overcome their differences through a game. But men were too foul of heart and too ambitious to let their petty disputes be resolved in such a way. He couldn’t help but ponder how many lives could be saved. In the end, he knew it was just a wishful fantasy. Olaf let himself be caught up in the celebration, and put aside thoughts of evil men, and ambition, and war. There would be plenty of time to consider those things in the morning; for now he would relish the moment and enjoy being among friends.