Short History Of... - The Ancient Olympics

Episode Date: July 28, 2024

For nearly 12 centuries, the Ancient Greeks honoured their gods with one of the most famous sporting contests in the world: The Olympic Games. Athletes represented their city states to compete for the glory of the gods, knowing that winning or losing could change the course of their lives. From dangerous martial arts and the perilous chariot race, to sprints and the pentathlon, the Games showcased strength, skill, and stamina. But why did the Olympic Games first begin? What did the earliest competitions look like? What was it like to take part in a competition with no second place and, in some cases, no rules. And why did the Ancient Games die out for over a thousand years? This is a Short History Of….The Ancient Olympics. A Noiser production, written by Lindsay Galvin. With thanks to Dr Nigel Spivey, a senior lecturer in Classics, at the University of Cambridge. Get every episode of Short History Of a week early with Noiser+. You’ll also get ad-free listening, bonus material, and early access to shows across the Noiser network. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Reach great Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn Ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn Ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's B-O-B at L-I-b-s-y-n dot com. It is August 516 B.C., a sweltering day at Olympia, on the Peloponnese Peninsula of southern Greece. On the second day of the 65th Olympic Games,

thousands of spectators jostle on the banks that line the Hippodrome. It's a specialist horse racing track, a loop of 600 meters in length, 200 meters wide. The most spectacular of the equestrian events, a four-horse chariot race called the Tethypon, is about to begin. A young competitor perches on the flimsy platform of his chariot behind the start gate. Representing the wealthy coastal city of Miletus, he was plucked from slavery by his horse-trading master to compete for the glory of the gods. The Miletian's chariot is built for speed. Made of wood and wicker, it is held together by leather thongs, painted red and decorated with bronze gilding to show his master's status.

The narrow, spoked wheels gleam, sheathed in metal. With the slightest movement of his bare feet, the leather creaks. Positioned on the outside of the arrowhead formation of twenty chariots, the Milesian murmurs gently to his four horses, which snicker in a row in front of him. They are worth hundreds of times more to his master than he is, and his future depends on them. If he wins, he can remain in this favoured life as a charioteer. But a loss could result in a whipping, and worse, a return to the miserable life of a slave. The trumpet sounds.

It is time. The noise of the crowd fades as the Miletian tenses his thighs, focusing only on his horses and on the track ahead. As the gates drop in sequence, he flicks his wrists and the horses surge forward. The chariot flies, its young driver intent on building speed on the straight. Within moments, the turning post becomes visible through the clouds of dust. Narrowing his eyes against the stinging dust, the Miletian hauls in the reins of the left horse, letting the right side pull forward. But several other teams are bunched ahead of him, readying for the turn. A blue and silver chariot charges forward, attempting to overtake the pack. It glances off its neighbor to screams from both charioteers.

When they make contact again, both wheels explode into splinters. One damaged chariot veers off the track before collapsing on its side, its driver taking his chance to leap free, rolling over and over, engulfed by dust. falling over and over, engulfed by dust. But the other charioteer is less lucky. Still attached to the reins, he is dragged at speed alongside his splintered vehicle. The Miletian, though, can't lose concentration for a second. He closes in, the roar of the crowd intensifying with every beat of his horse's hooves. Ritting his teeth and engaging every muscle in his body,

he brings his team around at the post, miraculously dodging the chaos of the collision. There are twelve more laps to go, and already blood has been spilt on the track. For nearly 12 centuries, the ancient Greeks honored their gods with a sporting contest that became a key event in their calendar. Spectators from the region and beyond would pour in to watch. With athletes representing their city-states and competing for the glory of their gods, winning or losing could change the course of their lives.

From martial arts akin to blood sports, to the perilous chariot race, traditional sprints, and the famed pentathlon, the ancient Olympic Games showcased strength, skill, and stamina, bringing citizens together even during times of war. But why did the games first begin and what did the earliest competitions look like? What was it like to take part in a competition with no second place, and in some events, no rules? And why did the ancient games die out, not to be resurrected for over another thousand years? I'm John Hopkins, from the Noiser Network. This is a short history of the ancient Olympics. In the period known as Classical Antiquity, beginning in the 8th century BC, ancient Greece

flourishes. But the country of Greece as we know it today doesn't yet exist. In a region made up of over 1,000 city-states, areas dominated by Greek-speaking people extend through the Aegean and along the Mediterranean coast. Theirs is a civilization rich in worship, myth, and ritual. Even before the first ancient Olympics is recorded, the poet Homer, famous as the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey, describes funeral games. Staged to honor the memory of prominent military figures, these feature tests of running, throwing, jumping, and wrestling, plus chariot and horse racing. There is evidence that these

games may have taken place at Olympia, a valley on the Peloponnese peninsula of southern Greece. But it's also possible that what becomes the Olympic Games had even simpler origins. Dr. Nigel Spivey is a senior lecturer in classics at the University of Cambridge. What archaeology has revealed is that there was some kind of meeting place at Olympia, going back into the Bronze Age. And some archaeologists think that it was a sort of gathering place for local livestock producers to do their trading of animals. And they may have, for example, if you want to prove that your horses are in good fettle, you know, you do a bit of a horse race.

So it's that element, possibly, of a sort of agricultural get-together, and then it extends from testing your animals and your produce to your own bodies. Situated only 16 kilometers inland, the proximity of Olympia to the Ionian Sea makes it an ideal setting for a large event at a time when boats often offer the fastest way to travel. Though the region is actually hundreds of miles from Mount Olympus in Macedonia, where the gods are believed to live, Olympia's landscape is dotted with temples or sanctuaries. It has been a center of Zeus' worship as far back as the 10th century BC, partly due to its weather. When a thunderstorm happens there, it's spectacular. You know,

it's really noisy and something that makes a big impression on you. And that's one of the sort of epithets of Zeus, that he gathers the clouds together and this is a place where he's manifest by the weather patterns. But I think it's likely that from the archaeological artefacts from the Bronze Age, it's likely that people have been worshipping, if not Zeus, then some powerful deity, for centuries before the Olympic Games began. Never known to miss an opportunity for storytelling, the ancient Greeks have a number of myths to explain how the Olympics came about. One origin story outlines how handsome young hero

Pelops, favored by the sea god Poseidon, wants to marry the king of Pisa's daughter, Iberdameia. The old king, who has already killed 13 suitors, challenges Pelops to a chariot chase. If the young contender wins, he gets Hippodamia's hand in marriage, but the price of defeat is death. Poseidon lends a hand, with a gift of a chariot drawn by winged horses. Some versions of the myth have Pelops hedging his bets by replacing the bronze lynchpins of the old king's chariot with wax so the wheels fall off and the king is dragged to his death. In any case, the hero triumphs, claims his bride, and institutes the Olympic Games to

celebrate his victory. Another myth features the renowned demigod Heracles, son of Zeus. He dedicates the games to his father, who assists him in completing his famous labors, impossible feats of strength. Whatever its true roots, the first official Olympic Games takes place in 776 BC. It's a modest affair featuring only one event, a 200-meter footrace. City-states send their fastest runners to compete in honor of Zeus. Known as the Stade, the race takes place on a purpose-built track to which it gives its name the Stadium. Corbus, a cook from the town closest to Olympia, is the first sprint champion.

Having honored Zeus with victory, which means more to the ancient Greeks than any riches, his physical prize is a simple apple. Decades later, the victors start to be crowned with olive wreaths, a tradition that remains for the entirety of ancient Olympic history. Even this far back, the Games only take place once every four years. They are one of four major sporting events that occur in different parts of Greece, together forming the Pan-Hellenic Games. Each festival is dedicated to a different Olympian god. As the Olympics is in honor of the king of the gods, Zeus, it

is the highlight of the religious calendar. The Olympic program expands as its popularity grows. In 720 BC, at the 15th Games, longer distance foot races are introduced. Alongside the 200-meter staid, there is the diallos, which is two lengths of the staid, and the dolichos, which ranges between seven and 24 staids. Visitors now flock in their thousands. The event is so important that the Greeks will later count the passing of years in blocks of four years, or olympiads. Any Greek citizen can compete, providing a means for individuals to rise in society.

And producing Olympic champions earns respect for city-states. Attendance of the Games is believed to honor the gods, inviting their favor, but it also offers opportunities to spread news and make political alliances. It is the place to be seen in the ancient world. It is around this time that Olympic athletes first begin competing in the nude. But this state of undress is not the norm for daily life in classical Greece.

One thing to say about the competition in nudity is that the Greeks were aware that it was a weird thing to do. That, you know, there were taboos in other societies. In most societies, indeed around the globe, about displaying genitalia, and that they were the only ones who did this. I mean, they had anecdotes. Allegedly, for example, they were competing in loincloths,

and during one of the sprint races races someone's loincloth fell off and he won so i guess there was less sort of wind resistance or something from 708 bc events diversify to include competitions associated with the martial skills essential for combat city states have conflicting ideologies and alliances formed between more powerful states such as Athens and Sparta lead to struggles for dominance across the whole region. There is also the threat of invasion by foreign powers, the Empire of Persia being the most powerful. With all boys and men expected to be fit and skilled

enough for military service, the inclusion of combat skills is a natural progression for the prestigious contest. The pentathlon sees athletes complete the familiar staid race, but also a further four events, jumping, discus, javelin, and wrestling. These new Olympic events make the difficulties of nude competition more apparent. It is all very well to compete without clothes in a straight run, but the pentathlon requires all-round grace and endurance. The event is prized by the ancient Greeks, huvalio kolokogathia, the classical principle of balance and harmony in body and mind, in order to achieve a noble character.

The men, because there are no female competitors of the ancient Olympics, may use only a slim thong of leather to secure their genitals, though it has no discernible protective effect. The long jump, accompanied by flute music, sees competitors taking a run-up, then swinging a pair of weights which is believed to aid the jump distance. The discus is also complemented by music and takes place without a spin. Throwers swing the two-kilo bronze or stone discs at their side before releasing straight forward. Javelin is a standing throw of a wooden spear with the addition of a leather strap

to create spin and lengthen the flight. The final pentathlon event is wrestling. There are no weight categories and few rules, although grabbing of genitals, breaking of fingers, biting, and eye gouging are not allowed. Wrestling also takes place as a single event, attracting the most physically imposing men from across the Greek region. Libsyn ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com. During the 7th to 5th centuries BC, the ancient Olympics, already the biggest of the Pan-Hellenic

Games, undergoes rapid expansion in its number of events. It is managed by a group of nine officials from Elis, the closest city to Olympia. They are known as Hellenodikai, judges of the Greeks, and are shortlisted by vote, then chosen by drawing lots. Easily spotted in their purple robes and carrying forked sticks, they are responsible for selecting events, managing the program, and acting as umpires and judges. The wider range of sports reflects the culture in Greece at this time, with physical prowess considered a key virtue. Soon after the establishment of the first gymnasium in Athens in the 6th century BC,

a town is not considered a town without one. With military service starting at around 17 years old, exercising becomes mandatory for all adult males. With different training times for men and boys, gymnasiums are open to all, enabling common people to train regularly. What was the reason for having a gymnasium in town? They would have answered quite simply, we want our young men in particular,

we want them to be fit for battle. And we know that battle was, it's not how it was described in the epics of Homer, which is kind of one-on-one combat. The battles that the Greek states conducted between themselves and then against a kind of common enemy, such as the Persians, they were basically infantry formations and you were tightly packed, but you had to be able to run fast and you had to deal with weapons that were hand-to-hand fighting effectively. So we're talking about direct body-on-body contact. So there was this kind of civic interest in keeping everyone fit.

The gymnasiums of ancient Greece feature a large exercise space, a yard surrounded by outhouses containing changing rooms, practice rooms and baths. The public library is often nearby, where lectures and speeches take place. In ancient Greek culture, the nurturing of body and mind are intrinsically linked. Would-be Olympic competitors are selected from contests held in their local gymnasiums, open to all. competitors are selected from contests held in their local gymnasiums, open to all. Each city-state wants to put forward their best athletes and gain the prestige of having produced a champion. Women, though, are not permitted to train at the gymnasiums. They do not take part in the ancient Olympics, not even as spectators, but they do have their own, much smaller version of the games.

as spectators, but they do have their own, much smaller version of the games. In honor of Zeus's wife, the goddess Hera, this festival takes place early in the same year as the Olympics. The only event of these Haraean games is a shorter version of the stadion footrace. Though married women remain limited to their roles within the household, unwed women are permitted to take part. remain limited to their roles within the household, unwed women are permitted to take part. They compete wearing their hair loose and a short tunic that leaves one side of their chest exposed. There is one loophole that famously allows a woman to become an Olympic champion.

If she owns horses, there is nothing stopping them competing for her. In 648 BC, the high-status equestrian events are introduced, and in these races, it's the horse owners rather than the charioteers who win and lose. In contrast to the more egalitarian running, pentathlon, and wrestling, chariot racing is a sport of the elite. There are four horses and two horse events, and the charioteers themselves are often slaves. There was a Spartan lady, Kyniska, who owned and trained horses, who was victorious.

And actually, if you go back into the mythical origins or one of the stories about ancient Olympia, so you remember Pelops being in love with a local princess whose father did not want to let her go. The name of that girl is Hippodameia, which implies that she too is a horse trainer and very good at rearing horses. But women were not supposed to be present or competing. Only the richest can afford thoroughbred horses. But women were not supposed to be present or competing. Only the richest can afford thoroughbred horses. And though the chariots themselves are built for speed, they're also designed to display

the owner's wealth rather than focusing on the driver's safety. Indeed, the element of danger makes this event incredibly popular. The main point of danger was when you were turning the chariot around, so making a kind of U-turn, really, around one of the turning points. You can imagine, sort of, it's a bit like a Formula One situation where if one chariot overturns there,

then a team of horses is very likely to ride over you. Very exciting to watch, but for the rather morbid reason that there were what we rather euphemistically call thrills and spills. And needless to say, zero health and safety legislation in force as far as we're aware. For pure spectacle, the event is unsurpassed. as far as we are aware. For pure spectacle, the event is unsurpassed. The drama, the speed, and the stakes. More than half of the drivers could fall foul of the precarious turns. The other extreme sport introduced in the mid-seventh century is the brutal pankration, a kind of wrestling.

The ancient Greeks believed that the mythical hero Theseus invented this style of fighting to defeat the Minotaur. If naked wrestling is not violent enough, the pancration takes hand-to-hand combat to a new level in a no-holds-barred combination of wrestling and boxing. The only rules are no eye-gouging or biting. Breaking of bones, genital twisting and strangulation are just some of the techniques employed. A pancration bout ends only when a competitor either loses consciousness or surrenders by raising their index finger. Champion pancreatists become celebrities. Arahion of Phygelia is of particular note. Already a two-time champion, in 564 BC he competes for his third Olympic crown.

The sun casts amber rays across the Olympic sanctuary on the fourth day of the 54th Olympic Games. rays across the Olympic sanctuary on the fourth day of the 54th Olympic Games. It is early evening, but the heat of the day lingers. A food vendor fishes for the last of the olives from a clay jar, serving them onto a customer's flatbread and waving away flies. He is finally sold out. His 12-year-old son stacks the empty jars haphazardly, eliciting a warning from his father. But the boy is in a hurry, desperate to see the end of the pancreation match, featuring his home city hero Arheon of Phygelia. The vendor secretly hoped the match would be over by now. It's his son's first Olympics,

and he's not sure the boy is ready for the brutality of Olympic-level pancreation. As they make their way into the sanctuary, he tries to get the boy to pause and listen to a harpist instead. But the boy is resolute. He hauls his father towards the pancreation pit, winding through the crowd right to the front of the circle. The two competitors are locked in a hold. They are so heavily coated in oil, blood, dust and sweat, it's impossible to see where the bulging muscles of one man begins and the other ends. The tangle of limbs barely moves, with the competitors evenly matched and equally exhausted.

Suddenly, one of them rolls to the side, hauling his rival beneath him. There is a flash of grimacing teeth streaked with blood. The grappling pair break apart to gasps from the crowd. The vendor's son bounces in excitement, urging his hero on. Arahion rolls free of his opponent. The other competitor leaps across the arena with inhuman agility for a man of his size. With an almighty thud, he lands on the back of the reigning champion, pinning him on his belly.

Arahion is now being choked in the most feared move, the Stranglehold. His dust-coated face seems to swell. The vendor tries to haul his son back, but the boy shrugs him off. Silenced by the headlock, Arahion's face is turning purple, eyes bulging. He flails behind him until he finds his opponent's foot with his veined fist. A snap sends a shudder through the spectators, quickly followed by a roar of pain. Arahian's opponent releases him, tumbling clear with a roar of frustration and agony,

his foot clearly dislocated. That's enough for him. Shooting a hand into the air, one finger outstretched, he surrenders. The crowd erupts and trumpeteers announce the winner as the ground thuds with the feet of spectators jumping for victory. But the vendor's son is still, hands covering his mouth, eyes fixed on his hero. Araheon is not rising to his feet. The reigning champion has won his third Olympic title, but he won't live to fight for a fourth. Seconds after his opponent concedes, Arrhen is declared dead.

The legendary champion is crowned victor posthumously. But although injuries in the Olympian combat sports and chariot races are common, only two deaths are ever recorded. Officials oversee every event, and there are severe penalties when the few rules are broken. Accidental misdemeanors may lead to a swift on-the-spot flogging, but more calculated acts require a punishment that hits where it really hurts, the honour of the culprit. A row of statues called the Zanes ensure misdeeds are not forgotten.

One of the penalties at Olympia you can still see today because as you go from the sanctuary, you walk towards the stadium and there's a kind of tunnel entrance into the stadium. Flanking you on that passage, there are the bases of recorded punishments for athletes who kind of publicly are disgraced by having some sort of commemoration that they misbehaved in some way, or doing something that was against the rules. By the 5th century BC, the ancient Olympics reaches its heyday. It's now much more than a festival to honour the gods.

The Olympic truce means conflicts between states are put on hold to ensure the event will run. During the Peloponnesian War of 430 to 421 BC, the powerful state of Athens is pitted against Sparta in a fight for supremacy. As nearly every state is allied with one side or the other, the battle affects all the Greek states. Even if they are quite literally on the field of battle, slaughtering each other, they will still compete at the games. They had a sense that disputes could be settled.

Peacefully is not quite the right word because there's nothing very peaceful about having a boxing match in the sanctuary at Olympia. But a city-state could proclaim its identity and its power through athletics. So the athletes could do some of the sort of representation, if you like, of the state. And that they called, you know, Hellenicity. This is what keeps us together, our Hellenic identity. Athletes selected by their own cities are put through their paces at the Olympic Sanctuary for a month before the Games begin.

The sanctuary itself encompasses the temples and the grounds where the events take place, all of which are dedicated to Zeus. The intense training required is far from the only hardship. Everyone who attends experiences privations. The ancient Olympics can attract up to 40,000 spectators, and though it takes place at the height of summer, facilities are almost non-existent. With no running water, simply drinking enough is a challenge, let alone bathing.

The toilet situation is a revolting free-for-all. Health risks are numerous, not least because of the multiple animals killed in honor of the gods. The ancient Greeks make sacrifices throughout the events, so the whole sanctuary is like an abattoir, with the associated stench and congealing blood. The swarms of flies and biting insects are notorious. It's no accident that even attending the Olympics is a punishing experience.

Integral to ancient Greek ideology is the principle that glory comes from struggle, the agones. At the Olympics, the spectators experience extreme discomfort alongside the athletic suffering of their heroes. I think somewhere there's a record of some slave in someone's household being threatened by a master. You know, if your behavior doesn't improve, do you know what?

I'm gonna send you to the Olympics. So it's like a kind of voluntary form of penitence or you know you know you know what you're in for and it's not going to be easy and i think to that extent the spectators are empathizing with what the grueling regimes that the athletes have to submit themselves to. From around 500 BC, the Olympics has a fixed five-day program. The first day begins with a short opening ceremony where the officials and competitors from all over the Greek-speaking world take oaths, pledging to respect the rules. They head to Altis, Zeus's sacred olive grove, to make offerings and pray for victory at one of the many altars to Apollo,

Hermes, Hercules, and Zeus himself. Contests for heralds and trumpeters decide who will announce events. The boys' events, running, wrestling, and boxing, also take place on day one. There are speeches by well-known philosophers, and poets and historians recite their works to enthusiastic crowds long into the evening. The morning of the second day is taken up with equestrian events. Competitors process to the hippodrome for the four and two horse chariot races and the horse racing. The afternoon of the second day is all about the pentathlon and culminates in the parade of the victors around the sacred grove while victory hymns are sung. Not yet crowned, winners can be recognized not only by their adoring entourages but by victory ribbons

tied around their limbs to indicate the strength of that part of their body funeral rites are held in honor of the first victorious charioteer of myth the hero pelops before the evening ends in feasts and revelry the third day marks the midpoint of the olymp Olympic event and the official sacrificing of 100 oxen. The animals are ritually killed by priests at altars in front of the magnificent Temple of Zeus. The fat is then wrapped around the bones and burned, with the smoke floating up to the gods. In the afternoon, foot races take place at the Stade. The middle day ends with a public banquet comprising the meat of the sacrificed oxen

cooked in an epic barbecue. By day four, the Olympic Sanctuary is truly an assault on the senses. Clouds of meat smoke and insects hang over putrid blood pools and piles of rotting bones from the multiple sacrifices. This gritty environment is an atmospheric scene for the combat sports of the fourth day. As there are no weight categories, success depends heavily on the matching of competitors in a process similar to drawing lots. It seems to be that they would all kind of gather within the precincts of the sanctuary, possibly just in front of the Great Temple of Zeus.

But then each one of them would have a sort of symbol of identity, which would be put into some sort of bucket. And to establish the bouts between contenders, an official would simply pick out something from the bucket and say, oh, you, the guy from Sparta, pick out the other one, you're going to fight the guy from Syracuse over in Sicily. And because they're all stripped off, guy from Sparta looks across at this, you know, he thinks he's big by Spartan standards, but this gorilla from Syracuse is there standing in full naked glory. And at that point, it's quite well documented that quite a lot of athletes said, do you

know what? I think I might not compete. I'm not feeling that good today. And they scratched. Milo of Croton, a Greek city in southern Italy, is the most successful wrestler of the ancient Olympics and an opponent no one wants to draw. A man-mountain, he is known for carrying a bull through the sanctuary.

Competing between 540 and 520 BC, he is a six-time Olympic champion. Milo commands such fear, he ends up leading his city's army. Classical poets write of how, draped in his Olympic wreaths, he dresses like Hercules in a lion's skin and carries a club. Other armies are rattled by his very presence, believing his inhuman strength to be evidence that he is favored by the gods, or possibly is the god Hercules himself. The boxing event requires a similar potency from its contenders, but also needs speed and agility. Once again, there is no limit on weight or time.

Boxers wrap slim leather thongs around their fists, leaving their fingers free. The brute strength of a punch can be enough to floor an opponent, but there is more than one way to win. I love the story of this boxer because there were no weight categories. There were some age categories, but there were a lot of people included in the sort of main one. And there were no rings, so you had a referee, you had a big stick who could sort of punish any misdemeanors. But basically you just carry on boxing. And there's this character whose strategy was simply to dance. And I like to think of him as some sort of ancient equivalent

who had the sort of balletic skill of Muhammad Ali. And he just danced and danced until his opponents, after several hours, just got exhausted trying to land a punch on him, and he was declared the winner. The most brutal combat is saved for last with vicious pancration. But there is one final test of endurance to follow. Spectators troop back to the Stade to watch the Race in Armour. Competitors run two laps in heavy battle gear, Greaves' shin armour helmet

and a shield weighing a punishing seven kilograms. It is 152 BC, the last race of the day at the Stade, and the race in armor competitors are lining up behind a row of white limestone starting blocks. One runner glances out of the corner of his eye. A respected blacksmith from one of the smallest city-states, he pins his hopes for victory more on his endurance than his speed. Leonidas of Rhodes stands next to him, lean, tall, and sculpted. He is the celebrity the crowds are calling for. The blacksmith can't believe he is competing against this three-time Olympic champion. Leonidas has already won two of the running races and wears ribbons around his head and thighs to prove it. The herald calls out for the men to prepare themselves. The blacksmith lifts his weighty, plumed helmet into place. He slides the straps of the bronze

shield along his forearm, hearing the shuffle of the other men doing the same. The shield doesn't feel too heavy right now, no more than the weight of the five-month-old baby he has left at home. But it soon will. Last year's entrant from his home city didn't make it to the end of the race after colliding with another, struggling to get up, then fainting clean away in the heat. The race begins. Dust kicks up into the blacksmith's eyes as he puffs his chest out and swings his one free arm, finding his rhythm. The godlike Leonides speeds ahead and out of his range of vision, and several other runners overtake him too. Just at the edge of the metal of his helmet, he sees something drop. A clatter of armor and a cry confirms that someone has gone down. The crowd laugh and jeer the stricken competitor, but the blacksmith strides on,

sweat dripping into his eyes. Despite his blurred sight, he can just make out the turning point ahead. Slowing only slightly, he loops around. His heartbeat thumps in time with his breath, like the slam of his hammer and anvil at home. His legs are heavy, the leather cutting into his arm. The hazy impression of the crowd ahead means he is approaching the end. Striding over the white stones, he shakes off his shield, dropping it to the ground with a clang.

The blacksmith catches his breath. He certainly didn't win, or even come close, but at least he finished. He can hold his head high at home. But then something hits his leg. Removing his helmet, he sees a rotten cabbage at his feet. With laughter filling the stadium, he turns with dread to see the staid empty of runners. Even the man who fell must have righted himself and overtaken him.

He came last. A shower of rotten fruit pummels him. The ancient Greeks have no tolerance for losers. The winner takes all, and there is no second or third place. But the race in armor adds a little comic respite from the serious and bloody business of the combat competitions. The crowds enjoy the incumbent exertions of those taking part. After all, the falls and collisions don't generally result in serious injury. More feasting, parading, making offers to chosen gods, and general revelry closes the penultimate night of the ancient Olympics. Attendees might start the fifth day at one of the many stalls around the sanctuary, buying snacks and souvenirs.

The more passionate fans among them might treat themselves to a small, expensive pot of the olive oil, blood, and dust that has been scraped from their favourite champion's skin. They were also seen as sort of talismanic. So if an ordinary mortal like you and I were at the Olympics, we might want to touch a prize-winning athlete to get some of that grace and magic imparted. Or more easily done, would be just to touch a statue of a prize-winning athlete.

And we know that that was done in antiquity, that you thought you might get some of the superhuman and semi-divine strength and power that these characters had. Soon it's time for the closing ceremony. Everyone gathers outside the magnificent Temple of Zeus, where a gold and ivory throne is brought forward.

Upon it lie olive branches cut from the sacred tree that grows behind the temple. A procession of judges, followed by the ribboned champions, winds around the sanctuary and lines up before the throne, the victorious athletes now silent and humble before the Temple of Zeus. The crown of olive is placed upon their head as names, cities and events are announced. This is a holy rite of transition. These men are no longer simply competitors. They are now the closest a mere human can get to being a god. Everyone is brought back to the true meaning of the Olympic Games.

If you go right back to the sort of origins of Greek cosmology, humans aren't really supposed to be around on the world. So the gods allow them to sort of scrabble about and do the best they can, but there's no sense that the gods really are particularly interested in making life easier for these puny mortals. That said, some of these puny mortals can pull themselves up the ladder of getting closer to experiencing what it's like to be a god, if they try really, really, really hard. When this solemn ceremony is complete, the crowd showers the winners with flowers, small branches and leaves. The after parties commence,

as the richest and most famous victors compete to hold the most lavish feast. The next morning, the Olympic sanctuary clears as attendees make the often arduous journey home by sea or land. For the victors, the celebrations will continue as their home cities welcome their champions back in triumph. So one city, we're told, not only does the victor ride back in a chariot with confetti and rapturous welcome from everyone, they knock down the city walls so that he's got more space to come through the city. And I think it's just sort of symbolic, isn't it, that we don't need these walls anymore because we've got, you know, I think it's just sort of symbolic, isn't it?

That we don't need these walls anymore because we've got, you know, prize-winning athlete and we're now famous for the athletes that we produce. And the veneration doesn't end there. Poems will be written about the victories taught in schools for generations. Statues are created and worshipped. An Olympic win means huge prestige for a state

and far-reaching personal reward for the champion himself. created and worshipped. An Olympic win means huge prestige for a state and far-reaching personal reward for the champion himself. Once you've got an Olympic victory, you probably could have, if you wanted to, lived for the rest of your life on the kudos, the rewards that came from it. And we know that some of the sponsoring cities basically extended the privileges of an Olympic victor

to the victor's family that would extend possibly even beyond your lifetime. The Olympic Games remain the key event of the Greek calendar for over 1,000 years. This era sees much change in the ancient world. Between 146 BC and 27 AD, the Romans slowly conquer Greek city-states, heralding the beginning of Roman Greece. But instead of stamping it out, the Romans are greatly influenced by Greek culture and continue the Olympic tradition. Although there is a gradual move away

from the religious foundations and more focus on competition, the events remain the same. To the Romans, with their love of the gladiatorial fight to the death, the Olympics is seen as a more refined way to enjoy athletics. It is likely that loincloths are also introduced

for athletes during the Roman era. But respect for the godlike status of the winners is slowly eroded, and the battlefield skills that inspired original events become outdated. You had people saying, who's going to throw a discus on a battlefield? what transferable skill is involved there. And you have characters like Julius Caesar openly despising athletes as being quite useless on the battlefield. He'd much rather have, you know, guys who just know about military techniques and strategy and just roughing it with him on campaigns. So that kind of goes away as a justification.

Even so, Roman emperors love the power play and show of the games, and the sheer size of the event ensures its continued appeal. What happens at Olympia is not mass communication, but you reach a big audience. So, you know, you could go to Olympia and recite some poems and be sure that those poems are going to get carried around the sort of maximum area because all these people come from a long way and will go back with them and such like. So, you know, the Romans maintain it and then extend its cosmopolitan participation. So if you're a Roman citizen and you come from somewhere like Damascus or somewhere even further east in Asia Minor, you could turn up and compete.

Competitors come from across the empire, as far away as Asia Minor. Always keen to impress and with their penchant for hygiene, the Romans upgrade the facilities at Olympia. Wealthy and influential figures provide amenities such as running water, and gain great acclaim for these acts of public benefit. But despite the modernization of the physical space, as the centuries pass, the standards, quality and spectatorship of the games falls into a gradual decline. In 393 AD, the Christian emperor Theodosius I forbids celebration

of pagan cults, and that includes the Olympic Games. After this, the site of Olympia is abandoned, its shrines destroyed by earthquakes. The blockbuster competition of the Greek world has ended. Cultural festivities and athletic contests do continue in Greek-influenced provinces of the ancient world into the 6th century AD, but the exact location of the ancient Olympics is lost. Another millennia passes before English explorer Richard Chandler rediscovers what he thinks is the site. Archaeological digs begin a century later. In 1896, the Olympic Games is revived, but the new, sanitized version of the competition would be barely recognizable to the ancient Greeks.

They'd struggle to acknowledge any glory in achieving second or third place, and wonder why the losers aren't reviled. Certainly, it would feel strangely devoid of meaning, now its origins of sacred worship play no part. I think if they came back, they would probably think they were physically up to taking on modern athletes. Don't know how they would get on. Fascinating exercise in time travel. I think what they really would value about the modern Olympics, which has been a feature of the modern Olympics since I think the 1930s. But establishing a way of settling any kind of disputes about where your discus lands or, you know, did you cut a corner off in that race or whatever. I think the studious fairness of the modern Olympics, which can be technologically established.

of the modern Olympics, which can be technologically established. Our modern Olympics is a worldwide event and celebrates global unity. Sportsmanship is now fated more than struggle and hardship, but the legacy of the ancient Olympics is evident in the enduring cult of competitive sport. Our appreciation for fundamental human striving, for extreme agonies, that ancient Greek concept of the contest as struggle, remains. We really aren't so different to our ancient ancestors. If you've tried to achieve even just a small measure of it, You know how difficult it is and just how much hard work has to go into it. It's a marvel and that's I think the fascination of knowing that that marvel was understood and valued for what it was in times so long gone by.

I think the Olympics is best described as agony and ecstasy or paradise and hell on earth at the same time. Next time on Short History, I will bring you a short history of the modern Olympics. It fascinates me that an essentially late 19th century neo-Hellenic pagan cult of the amateur athletic gentleman has been able to survive 130 years and transform itself into both the center of governance of global sport as well as staging these unbelievable enormous sporting festivals and spectacles i find it fascinating that it has proved so ideologically lithe that it has managed to shed its skin on many occasions

and reinvent itself in new guises. I find that completely amazing about that. That's next time.