Chorus:
“A man raised a lion cub in his house. The cub was motherless but needed the teat. When young, it was gentle; it liked children a lot; and it charmed the old folks. The cub was often in the man’s arms, a normal thing for a baby of nursing age. It would set its bright eyes on the man’s hand and beg for its belly’s necessities.
In time, however, the animal exhibited its parents’ character. That is to say, in return for the household’s kindness, it prepared a feast no one had asked for by slaughtering the sheep with frenzy. The house was splattered with blood. The destruction was enormous and violent. A god is to blame for a minister of Disaster having been raised in the house.”
According to many accounts online, our modern marathon is somehow related to Pheidippides’ run to Athens after the battle against the Persians in 490 BCE. As the story goes, When he arrived before the assembled citizens, Pheidippides announced “we have conquered” (nenikêkamen) and then then expired.
The problem is that this story is total hogwash. There was no Pheidippides (except in Aristophanes’ Clouds, and he was obsessed with horses). No one is ever recorded saying in ancient Greek “we have conquered” after the battle. I know where some of this comes from (Plutarch and Lucian, see below) but I don’t know where the rest does. Although some authors do have a messenger announcing the victory, the present form of nikâo is used. And the name changes.
Furthermore, the message of the story changes radically from its different context. In the first account of running and Marathon, Herodotus tells of an Athenian Philippides who ran 140 miles to Sparta and back to try to get help:
Herodotus, 6.105-6
“First, the generals who were still in the city sent the herald Philippidês[1] to Sparta, an Athenian man, a long-distance runner [hêmerodromên[2]] who made a career of it. Pan appeared to him—as Philippidês claimed and reported to the Athenians—around the Parthenian mountain past Tegea. He claimed that Pan shouted out the name of Philippidês and ordered him to ask the Athenians why they were paying him no attention even though he was well-disposed toward them and was often helpful to them and would be again in the future. And because they believed these things to be true, since their affairs were going well, they established a temple to Pan on the akropolis and they honor him for that message with annual sacrifices and a race by torchlight.
When Philipiddes was sent by the generals, that time when he said that Pan appeared to him, he arrived in Sparta on the next day.[3] He went straight to the officials and said “Spartans, the Athenians need you to help them and not tolerate that one of the oldest cities among the Greeks fall into slavery at the hands of Barbarian. Eretria has already been enslaved and Greece has become weaker by the loss of a significant city.” He announced what he had been ordered to announce and it was to their taste to help the Athenians but they were incapable of doing so immediately because they did not want to violate the custom: for it was the ninth day of the current month, and they said that on that day they could not leave until the moon was full.”
This story is all about the Spartan failure to help the Greeks and the origin of a certain shrine to Pan. (In fact, in most authors who even mention this tale, it is the later aspect that draws attention: cf. Demosthenes 14.33; Pausanius 1.28 Libanius 11.1.9).
“For they say that when the Persians were attacking the Athenians sent Philippides the day-runner to the Spartans. When Pan encountered him in the Parthenian mountain he said “I will be present in the battle, tell the Athenians to honor me.” The Spartans did not come because of the full-moon festival, and the Athenians defended alone with many fewer Plataians.”
There is running from Marathon to Athens. But in Herodotus’ story, the entire Athenian army goes on a fast-march from the battle to defend the city against the Persian fleet:
Herodotus, 116
“The Persians sailed around Cape Sounion, but the Athenians went to help the city as fast as their feet were able; they arrived before the barbarians did and made their camp as soon as they appeared in the temple of Herakles, the one in Kynosarges. The barbarians, who had been at anchor near the Athenian port at that time, Phaleron, retreated and sailed their ships back toward Asia.”
This tale is actually more impressive and meaningful than the apocryphal one. The entire army ran the distance of 26 or so miles as a group to defend their homes. This isn’t about individual sacrifice or excellence, but rather about the collective will and glory of a city ruled by the people and for the people (to wax poetic a bit). This is, I think, a much more interesting and inspiring tale if it is taken seriously.
But sometime between the Peloponnesian War (421-404 BCE) and the Early Roman Empire (1st Century CE), the story changes. It takes on some of the elements of the false tale circulated widely. The two most well-known accounts are from Plutarch and Lucian. Plutarch, in typical style, distances himself from the tale by saying that one guy alleges that another guy says that…:
Plutarch, On the Glory of Athens, 347c (2nd Century CE)
“Heracleidês of Pontikos writes that Thersippos the Erkhian reported back about the battle of Marathon; but most say that it was Eukles who ran hot from battle in his arms and who, just after entering the gates could say only “Greetings” and “we are rejoicing” and then die.”
In Plutarch’s tale, the name of the runner is Eukles and he says χαίρομεν instead of anything about victory before dying. The full kernel of our modern canard can be found in the work of Lucian, a well-known fabulist.
Lucian, On Mistakes in Greetings (2nd Century CE)
“First, Philippidês the day-runner is said to have run from Marathon reporting the victory to the archons who were seated and awaiting news about the end of the battle, saying “Rejoice, we are victorious” and after saying that he died with the news, expiring with his greeting.”
What are we to make of this story? The Byzantine Suda has no patience for either Plutarch or Lucian. This encyclopedia, whose authors certainly knew of both, provides an account drawn entirely from Herodotus:
Suda (Byzantine Encyclopedia)
“Philippidês, an Athenian; day-runner: he ran 15 thousand stades in a single night and day (140 miles) as he traveled to Sparta. But the law did not allow them to go to war before the full-moon.”
What does it say about our culture and that of the second sophistic (the period of Plutarch and Lucian) that the individual tale is so much more attractive or that the Herodotean account is so quickly discounted?
The founding legends of modern sporting events often have little to do with truth, but I wonder about the individualistic and extreme versions popularized to the detriment of other possible stories. By Herodotus’ account, Philippides was a professional runner who could cover 140 miles in two days. Isn’t that impressive enough?
By Herodotus’ account as well, we should memorialize the extraordinary battle of Marathon as a collective act to safeguard democratic Athens. The story we choose to tell about Marathon in part reflects the story we tell about ourselves (and our past). Is it the story of one amazing ultra-marathoner or is it the tale of an army of citizens who suffered and triumphed together?
As a native of New England and a current resident of Boston, I find even more meaning in Herodotus’ account of the defense of the city since the Marathon bombing. Not all of us can be a Philippides–only one person can be first, after all. But we can stand (or, better, run) together as a group like those Athenian hoplites to defend and honor our home.
[1] How and Wells’s commentary on 6.105.1 “Φιλιππίδης, though only found in the second family of MSS., is supported by the other authorities (Paus. i. 28. 4, viii. 54-6; Plut. Herod. Malign. 26, &c.), and almost certainly right. It is a common Athenian name (C. I. A.), whereas Pheidippides is a witticism of Aristophanes (Nub. 67), which he would hardly have dared to make had the name been consecrated in the tale of Marathon.”
“There are some of those athletes who display such perfection of body that their opponents decline to face them and they are announced as victors without a fight….”
“Look at the kind of circumstance selected for murder: games, parties, and drinking.”
tempora quidem qualia sint ad parricidium electa vides: lusus convivii comissationis.
Plutarch, Life of Antony 28
“There, he used his leisure in the distractions of youth and childish games, spending and even wasting that most expensive currency, as Antiphon calls it, time.”
“There are some of those athletes who display such perfection of body that their opponents decline to face them and they are announced as victors without a fight….”
“Look at the kind of circumstance selected for murder: games, parties, and drinking.”
tempora quidem qualia sint ad parricidium electa vides: lusus convivii comissationis.
Plutarch, Life of Antony 28
“There, he used his leisure in the distractions of youth and childish games, spending and even wasting that most expensive currency, as Antiphon calls it, time.”
“The jumping-weight [halter] was a discovery of the pentathletes—it was developed for jumping [halma] where it gets its name. The rules which render the jumping rather difficult among the competitions urge the one jumping along with the flute and lighten him additionally with the jumping-weight. For, it produces a steadfast directional for the hands and regular and clearly-marked stride along the ground. The regulations clarify how much this is worth—for they do not permit measuring of the jump unless a clear footprint is obtained.
The greater weights of jumping help to exercise shoulders and hands while round weights serve to exercise fingers too. Both heavy and light athletes should practice with weights in all their activities except for moments of rest.”
I don’t want to attract the enmity of one part of the world even for the potential devotion of the other, but I have been a Red Sox fan as long as I can remember. In fact, I really can split my life up into four basic periods: before 1986, from 1986-2003; 2003-2007; and post 2007. And I am on the cusp of a fifth: now my children watch games with me. While they drift in and out of attention, they come back for every Mookie Betts at-bat.
But, beyond a particularly pathological obsession with a single team, I really love do baseball. One of my greatest regrets for my life is that I was not blessed with a good eye and fast hands: I did not record a single hit in my entire little league career.
During the spring, the author Guy Gavriel Kay (who hassles me before for loving the Red Sox and has suggested the authorities be notified of my brainwashing of children) was discussing the highs and lows of fantasy baseball on Twitter. I cannot play fantasy baseball because I can’t handle the stress. Somehow, our brief discussion turned into a contemplation of Homeric heroes as baseball players.
#Achilles would be Mike Trout but faster; #Odysseus masquerades as a knuckleball pitcher who secretly has s Mariano-esque cut fastball. #HomericBaseball
This conversation combines two things I love (Homer and baseball). It also comes close to an activity I wanted to run a few years back in a leadership course. My idea was that we would have students play basketball together in teams but in the personae of Homeric heroes. (The activity name was “Hero-Ball”.) Some ‘refs’ were going to randomly impose rules (gods); there would be fans, etc. The reasoning behind this lark was that we too often fail to think about how who we think we are shapes the way we engage with others.
(The activity was vetoed by my department chair at the time as exposing the university to too much liability. I have similarly considered a D&D style role playing game).
So, I spent all day trying to do other work and thinking about this absurd topic. Here’s what I have. First, if we try to select the best heroes from each side and give them positions somewhat akin to their ‘skills’, the Achaeans are clearly ‘stacked’. I made Odysseus a starting pitcher, but I am open to changing him out. The Achaeans have a DH, because they come from a wealthier, younger league.
This is an especially appropriate thought experiment for an All-Star Game because each side of the war is like a roster of All-Stars gathered from the best ‘teams’ all over Greece and Asia. Indeed, for ancient audiences the setting of the Trojan War was like a mythical All-Star game bringing together local heroes in one fantastic spectacle. Think of the catalogue of ships in the Iliad as an elaborate line-up announcement.
[N.B. For baseball haters or agnostics: one could play this game with any sport!]
Bench: The Myrmidons; Epeios (PH), Antilochus (INF/OF)
Coach: Nestor; Pitching Coach: Calchas
Some details and justifications: I generally made those famed for missiles (archery or spears) into pitchers. Odysseus, as I tweeted, reminds me of a wily veteran who leans on junk and the knuckleball but can bend your knees and break your back when he wants to. Agamemnon, on the other hand, is a player coach who throws only garbage but thinks he’s got both power and finesse. The archer Teucer is, obviously, their best option for closer. Thersites is in the bullpen as a crazy specialist.
The hitters are as follows: Achilles, Idomeneus, Ajax, and Diomedes all have obvious power and are distributed according to strength and speed. Patroclus might not be a natural left-fielder, but he’s not standing any where but near Achilles. Sthenelos is a poor man’s Patroclus and Oilean Ajax is sneaky, nasty, and fast, so an obvious shortstop. Menelaos? Well, he is in the middle of everything, thinks he’s in charge, and is the only person the other Atreid will pitch to.
The Trojans have some heavy hitters and one high-priced free agent (Sarpedon), but their team is overwhelmingly stocked with sons and relatives of Priam.
The Trojans have some power with Hektor at 1B (after a shift from Center field to prolong his career), Sarpedon at 3B, and Aeneas in Center. Glaukos and Polydamas are good players, but I don’t see them making the HOF. Dolon, like his Achaean counterpart, is fast and smart. When he goes down with a ‘collision’ injury after facing Diomedes in the basepaths, the Trojans are going to have to put some random son of Priam in there. This won’t work out so well: Deiphobus is already second, but that was Helen’s decision. At Catcher we find Helenos–he sees everything on the field and calls it like it is (often spending the time on the bench talking over signs with his sister Kassandra).
The real Trojan weakness is pitching. Paris “The Prince of Troy” Alexandros throws the prettiest curve ball this side of the Skamander. His fastball is there too–but he can’t seem to keep his focus on the field. He also really kills team morale, and sometimes he disappears in between innings. Their bullpen is strong, but just wait until Achilles gets a chance to face Lykaon with the bases loaded. I am going to call that shot for him.
She'd be like, "hold this" (hands over baby), "I guess I do have to do everything myself."
Game takes forever because pitcher can't throw until he and the batter have rattled off their ancestry and deeds to each other, a la Glaucus & Diomedes
Still thinking that one through. I think that the batting order might just, you know, "send the son of Atreus and shining Achilles apart in strife" or something like that…
Lineups: (This is an issue of contention: Achilles wants to bat 3rd followed by Ajax. He also thinks Patroclus should bat 5th, but they have to keep the Cretan contingent happy. Agamemnon has different ideas: he wants to put Achilles in his proper place for his speed.) Note: The Achaeans use a DH because they have a younger league and more men.
The Trojans just don’t have the late game flexibility of their opponents. They top the lineup with some shifty speed, followed by an unknown quantity, and then a trio of power who would intimidate anyone smarter than Agamemnon. The problem with their power-trio is that it is really hard to keep them on the field at the same time. Sarpedon and Hektor get injured; Aeneas’ mother keeps pulling him out of games.
Now who would like to give me a box score for this game?
Some tweets
Protesilaus was much touted pitching prospect and #1 draft pick but a torn rotator cuff in his debut outing effectively ended his career before it had begun.
Achilles is the victim of a very low-and-inside pitch, with tragic consequences. Diomedes has a truly bizarre fling with a fan during the game. Idomeneus hits a sacrifice fly, but regrets it…like a lot. Odysseus is a smart guy, but takes a very long time to reach home plate.
In honor of the World Cup Semi-final Match today between the former Roman Provinces of Britannia and Dalmatia, we wrote a slightly farcical post for the SCS blog. Here are some passages that did not make it into the post.
Vatinius to Cicero, Letters 5.10c c. November 45 CE
Caesar is hurting my feelings right now. He has not yet introduced anything about my Supplications and my Dalmatian victories, as if I had not actually accomplished deeds worthy of the best Triumph! Must this not be expected until I complete the whole campaign? Dalmatia has twenty ancient towns and in addition there are more tan sixty admitted at a later time. If no Supplications are allotted to me unless the fighting is over, then I am in a very different state that the rest of the generals.
Caesar adhuc mi iniuriam facit. de meis supplicationibus et rebus gestis Dalmaticis adhuc non refert, quasi vero non iustissimi triumphi in Dalmatia res gesserim. nam si hoc exspectandum est, dum totum bellum conficiam, viginti oppida sunt Dalmatiae antiqua, quae ipsi sibi adsciverunt amplius sexaginta. haec nisi omnia expugno si mihi supplicationes non decernuntur, longe alia condicione ego sum ac ceteri imperatores.
Suetonius, Divus Augustus 22
“[Augustus] closed the temple of Janus Quirinius which since the founding of the city had been close only twice, and he did it three times in a shorter period of time once he made peace on the sea and land. He he entered the city in an Ovation twice after the war at Phillippi and again after the Sicilian War. He also held Triumphs for his conquests in Dalmatia, Actium, and Alexandria on three days in a row!”
XXII. Ianum Quirinum semel atque iterum a condita urbe ante memoriam suam clausum in multo breviore temporis spatio terra marique pace parta ter clusit. Bis ovans ingressus est urbem, post Philippense et rursus post Siculum bellum. Curulis triumphos tris egit, Delmaticum, Actiacum, Alexandrinum continuo triduo omnes.
Velleius Paterculus, History of Rome 2.78
“During this Period, [Tiberius] Caesar, in order that the great foe of discipline—leisure—not ruin his army, was trying to keep his army hard through facing danger and experience of war by leading frequent expeditions into Illyricum and Dalmatia.”
Caesar per haec tempora, ne res disciplinae inimicissima, otium, corrumperet militem, crebris in Illyrico Delmatiaque expeditionibus patientia periculorum bellique experientia durabat exercitum
This re-post is in honor of our friends running today in Boston. Sorry we couldn’t arrange for warmer and drier weather!
According to many accounts online, our modern marathon is somehow related to Pheidippides’ run to Athens after the battle against the Persians in 490 BCE. As the story goes, When he arrived before the assembled citizens, Pheidippides announced “we have conquered” (nenikêkamen) and then then expired.
The problem is that this story is total hogwash. There was no Pheidippides (except in Aristophanes’ Clouds, and he was obsessed with horses). No one is ever recorded saying in ancient Greek “we have conquered” after the battle. I know where some of this comes from (Plutarch and Lucian, see below) but I don’t know where the rest does. Although some authors do have a messenger announcing the victory, the present form of nikâo is used. And the name changes.
Furthermore, the message of the story changes radically from its different context. In the first account of running and Marathon, Herodotus tells of an Athenian Philippides who ran 140 miles to Sparta and back to try to get help:
Herodotus, 6.105-6
“First, the generals who were still in the city sent the herald Philippidês[1] to Sparta, an Athenian man, a long-distance runner [hêmerodromên[2]] who made a career of it. Pan appeared to him—as Philippidês claimed and reported to the Athenians—around the Parthenian mountain past Tegea. He claimed that Pan shouted out the name of Philippidês and ordered him to ask the Athenians why they were paying him no attention even though he was well-disposed toward them and was often helpful to them and would be again in the future. And because they believed these things to be true, since their affairs were going well, they established a temple to Pan on the akropolis and they honor him for that message with annual sacrifices and a race by torchlight.
When Philipiddes was sent by the generals, that time when he said that Pan appeared to him, he arrived in Sparta on the next day.[3] He went straight to the officials and said “Spartans, the Athenians need you to help them and not tolerate that one of the oldest cities among the Greeks fall into slavery at the hands of Barbarian. Eretria has already been enslaved and Greece has become weaker by the loss of a significant city.” He announced what he had been ordered to announce and it was to their taste to help the Athenians but they were incapable of doing so immediately because they did not want to violate the custom: for it was the ninth day of the current month, and they said that on that day they could not leave until the moon was full.”
This story is all about the Spartan failure to help the Greeks and the origin of a certain shrine to Pan. (In fact, in most authors who even mention this tale, it is the later aspect that draws attention: cf. Demosthenes 14.33; Pausanius 1.28 Libanius 11.1.9).
“For they say that when the Persians were attacking the Athenians sent Philippides the day-runner to the Spartans. When Pan encountered him in the Parthenian mountain he said “I will be present in the battle, tell the Athenians to honor me.” The Spartans did not come because of the full-moon festival, and the Athenians defended alone with many fewer Plataians.”
There is running from Marathon to Athens. But in Herodotus’ story, the entire Athenian army goes on a fast-march from the battle to defend the city against the Persian fleet:
Herodotus, 116
“The Persians sailed around Cape Sounion, but the Athenians went to help the city as fast as their feet were able; they arrived before the barbarians did and made their camp as soon as they appeared in the temple of Herakles, the one in Kynosarges. The barbarians, who had been at anchor near the Athenian port at that time, Phaleron, retreated and sailed their ships back toward Asia.”
This tale is actually more impressive and meaningful than the apocryphal one. The entire army ran the distance of 26 or so miles as a group to defend their homes. This isn’t about individual sacrifice or excellence, but rather about the collective will and glory of a city ruled by the people and for the people (to wax poetic a bit). This is, I think, a much more interesting and inspiring tale if it is taken seriously.
But sometime between the Peloponnesian War (421-404 BCE) and the Early Roman Empire (1st Century CE), the story changes. It takes on some of the elements of the false tale circulated widely. The two most well-known accounts are from Plutarch and Lucian. Plutarch, in typical style, distances himself from the tale by saying that one guy alleges that another guy says that…:
Plutarch, On the Glory of Athens, 347c (2nd Century CE)
“Heracleidês of Pontikos writes that Thersippos the Erkhian reported back about the battle of Marathon; but most say that it was Eukles who ran hot from battle in his arms and who, just after entering the gates could say only “Greetings” and “we are rejoicing” and then die.”
In Plutarch’s tale, the name of the runner is Eukles and he says χαίρομεν instead of anything about victory before dying. The full kernel of our modern canard can be found in the work of Lucian, a well-known fabulist.
Lucian, On Mistakes in Greetings (2nd Century CE)
“First, Philippidês the day-runner is said to have run from Marathon reporting the victory to the archons who were seated and awaiting news about the end of the battle, saying “Rejoice, we are victorious” and after saying that he died with the news, expiring with his greeting.”
What are we to make of this story? The Byzantine Suda has no patience for either Plutarch or Lucian. This encyclopedia, whose authors certainly knew of both, provides an account drawn entirely from Herodotus:
Suda (Byzantine Encyclopedia)
“Philippidês, an Athenian; day-runner: he ran 15 thousand stades in a single night and day (140 miles) as he traveled to Sparta. But the law did not allow them to go to war before the full-moon.”
What does it say about our culture and that of the second sophistic (the period of Plutarch and Lucian) that the individual tale is so much more attractive or that the Herodotean account is so quickly discounted?
The founding legends of modern sporting events often have little to do with truth, but I wonder about the individualistic and extreme versions popularized to the detriment of other possible stories. By Herodotus’ account, Philippides was a professional runner who could cover 140 miles in two days. Isn’t that impressive enough?
By Herodotus’ account as well, we should memorialize the extraordinary battle of Marathon as a collective act to safeguard democratic Athens. The story we choose to tell about Marathon in part reflects the story we tell about ourselves (and our past). Is it the story of one amazing ultra-marathoner or is it the tale of an army of citizens who suffered and triumphed together?
As a native of New England and a current resident of Boston, I find even more meaning in Herodotus’ account of the defense of the city since the Marathon bombing. Not all of us can be a Philippides–only one person can be first, after all. But we can stand (or, better, run) together as a group like those Athenian hoplites to defend and honor our home.
[1] How and Wells’s commentary on 6.105.1 “Φιλιππίδης, though only found in the second family of MSS., is supported by the other authorities (Paus. i. 28. 4, viii. 54-6; Plut. Herod. Malign. 26, &c.), and almost certainly right. It is a common Athenian name (C. I. A.), whereas Pheidippides is a witticism of Aristophanes (Nub. 67), which he would hardly have dared to make had the name been consecrated in the tale of Marathon.”
I don’t want to attract the enmity of one part of the world even for the potential devotion of the other, but I have been a Red Sox fan as long as I can remember. In fact, I really can split my life up into four basic periods: before 1986, from 1986-2003; 2003-2007; and post 2007.
But, beyond a particularly pathological obsession with a single team, I really love do baseball. One of my greatest regrets for my life is that I was not blessed with a good eye and fast hands: I did not record a single hit in my entire little league career.
Spring is the season of rebirth when baseball returns! We somehow forget 162 or so bullpen implosions; we suppress the wild expenditures and strange pace of game; we endure the cost of live television and the countless commercials as we wait for those moments of frustration, joy, and, sometimes, relief.
Yesterday, the author Guy Gavriel Kay (who has harassed me before for loving the Red Sox) was discussing the highs and lows of fantasy baseball on Twitter. I cannot play fantasy baseball because I can’t handle the stress. Somehow, our brief discussion turned into a contemplation of Homeric heroes as baseball players.
#Achilles would be Mike Trout but faster; #Odysseus masquerades as a knuckleball pitcher who secretly has s Mariano-esque cut fastball. #HomericBaseball
This conversation combines two things I love (Homer and baseball). It also comes close to an activity I wanted to run a few years back in a leadership course. My idea was that we would have students play basketball together in teams but in the personae of Homeric heroes. (The activity name was “Hero-Ball”.) Some ‘refs’ were going to randomly impose rules (gods); there would be fans, etc. The reasoning behind this lark was that we too often fail to think about how who we think we are shapes the way we engage with others.
(The activity was vetoed by my department chair at the time as exposing the university to too much liability. I have similarly considered a D&D style role playing game).
So, I spent all day trying to do other work and thinking about this absurd topic. Here’s what I have. First, if we try to select the best heroes from each side and give them positions somewhat akin to their ‘skills’, the Achaeans are clearly ‘stacked’. I made Odysseus a starting pitcher, but I am open to changing him out. The Achaeans have a DH, because they come from a wealthier, younger league.
[N.B. For baseball haters or agnostics: one could play this game with any sport!]
Bench: The Myrmidons; Epeios (PH), Antilochus (INF/OF)
Coach: Nestor; Pitching Coach: Calchas
Some details and justifications: I generally made those famed for missiles (archery or spears) into pitchers. Odysseus, as I tweeted, reminds me of a wily veteran who leans on junk and the knuckleball but can bend your knees and break your back when he wants to. Agamemnon, on the other hand, is a player coach who throws only garbage but thinks he’s got both power and finesse. The archer Teucer is, obviously, their best option for closer. Thersites is in the bullpen as a crazy specialist.
The hitters are as follows: Achilles, Idomeneus, Ajax, and Diomedes all have obvious power and are distributed according to strength and speed. Patroclus might not be a natural left-fielder, but he’s not standing any where but near Achilles. Sthenelos is a poor man’s Patroclus and Oilean Ajax is sneaky, nasty, and fast, so an obvious shortstop. Menelaos? Well, he is in the middle of everything, thinks he’s in charge, and is the only person the other Atreid will pitch to.
The Trojans have some heavy hitters and one high-priced free agent (Sarpedon), but their team is overwhelmingly stocked with sons and relatives of Priam.
The Trojans have some power with Hektor at 1B (after a shift from Center field to prolong his career), Sarpedon at 3B, and Aeneas in Center. Glaukos and Polydamas are good players, but I don’t see them making the HOF. Dolon, like his Achaean counterpart, is fast and smart. When he goes down with a ‘collision’ injury after facing Diomedes in the basepaths, the Trojans are going to have to put some random son of Priam in there. This won’t work out so well: Deiphobus is already second, but that was Helen’s decision. At Catcher we find Helenos–he sees everything on the field and calls it like it is (often spending the time on the bench talking over signs with his sister Kassandra).
The real Trojan weakness is pitching. Paris “The Prince of Troy” Alexandros throws the prettiest curve ball this side of the Skamander. His fastball is there too–but he can’t seem to keep his focus on the field, he really kills team morale, and sometimes he disappears in between innings. Their bullpen is strong, but just wait until Achilles gets a chance to face Lykaon with the bases loaded. I am going to call that shot for him.
She'd be like, "hold this" (hands over baby), "I guess I do have to do everything myself."
Game takes forever because pitcher can't throw until he and the batter have rattled off their ancestry and deeds to each other, a la Glaucus & Diomedes
Still thinking that one through. I think that the batting order might just, you know, "send the son of Atreus and shining Achilles apart in strife" or something like that…
Lineups: (This is an issue of contention: Achilles wants to bat 4th and wants Ajax in the game. Agamemnon has different ideas: he wants to put Achilles in his proper place for his speed.) Note: The Achaeans use a DH because they have a younger league and more men.
The Trojans just don’t have the late game flexibility of their opponents. They top the lineup with some shifty speed, followed by an unknown quantity, and then a trio of power who would intimidate anyone smarter than Agamemnon. The problem with their power-trio is that it is really hard to keep them on the field at the same time. Sarpedon and Hektor get injured; Aeneas’ mother keeps pulling him out of games.
Now who would like to give me a box score for this game?
Some tweets
Protesilaus was much touted pitching prospect and #1 draft pick but a torn rotator cuff in his debut outing effectively ended his career before it had begun.
Achilles is the victim of a very low-and-inside pitch, with tragic consequences. Diomedes has a truly bizarre fling with a fan during the game. Idomeneus hits a sacrifice fly, but regrets it…like a lot. Odysseus is a smart guy, but takes a very long time to reach home plate.
Euryalus (a Phaeacian youth) has just claimed that Odysseus looks more like a pirate than an athlete.
Very-clever Odysseus glared at him and then answered in response
“Friend, you don’t speak well. You’re like a reckless man.
The gods don’t give good things to people at once in this way–
Not in form or brains or in ability to speak.
For one man is not exceptional in looks
But a god crowns his form with words. People delight
As they see him, and he speaks without hesitation in public,
With sweet reverence, and is conspicuous among those assembled,
And they gaze upon him like a god when he goes through the city.
Another is equal to the immortals in his appearance
But no charm sits well upon his words—
Just so, your shape is excellent, not even a god
Could make it differently. But your mind is limited [apophôlios].
You have raised the spirit in my dear chest
By speaking against what is right. I am no novice in sports,
As you at least claim, but I think I was among the best
When I could trust my youth and my hands.
But now I am overcome by evil and pains. I have endured much
Surviving the wars of men and the harrowing waves.
But, even so, after suffering much, I will play your games.
Your speech gnaws at my heart: you have pissed me off by speaking.”
“it is the Homeric custom to get a sense of the manner and character of someone you meet from their words. [This occurs elsewhere] for Telemachus: “you are of good blood, dear child, based on the way you think.” This is because he believe that being well-born and educated necessarily go together and he says everything appropriately. But Odysseus, for he did not maintain strongly that he is reckless, but says that he is like someone who is, because of his response and what he said.”
“Apophôlios properly means one who is not worthy of being included in the number of men, for they lack words and deeds at the right time. They call the primary schools phôleus. The one who has not frequented schools is called un-schooled.”
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