The Spondophoroi: Hidden Heroes of the Ancient Olympics
The ancient Olympics emerged from a desire to end bitter conflicts nearly 3,000 years ago. But before the Games could begin, it required the diplomatic savvy of brave and charismatic messengers…
This is the introduction to February’s edition of the Off-Field newsletter, curating monthly tales from the fringes of sport and society. Read it here.
Around the ninth century BC, a desperate King Iphitos sought to bring an end to the civil wars raging around him. As ruler of Elis, an ancient district caressed by the Ionian Sea on the Peloponnese peninsula, his efforts to end the conflicts that were slowly destroying Greece led him to the high priestess at the Temple of Apollo.
The Oracle of Delphi told him exactly what to do. He should arrange a grand sporting spectacle and invite every Greek state and colony to take part. Crucially, he should declare a month-long truce to allow all participants and spectators safe passage.
The terms of the truce were to be engraved on a bronze discus and displayed in the Temple of Hera, in the sacred precinct of Altis. They forbade any states from taking up arms, pursuing legal disputes, or meting out the death penalty. Heavy fines would be levied on anyone failing to meet the conditions.
Iphitos had no hesitation in taking the Oracle’s advice. The ancient Greeks adored their sport, and he was confident that funnelling their catharsis into competition may bring a halt to the carnage.
For the plan to work, the king needed to spread word of the truce, and the contest, among tense and hostile territories. He chose three of his bravest and most charismatic Eleans to be messengers, entirely reliant on their skills in diplomacy.
The three heralds became known as the Spondophoroi: truce-bearers. Carrying only a staff in their hands and an olive wreath on their heads — a symbol of peace and reconciliation — they travelled unarmed between rival states, risking their lives to announce the ceasefire. Once their peaceful intentions were established, their job was to extend an invitation to the new sporting games being held in an ancient city in southern Elis, surrounded by green mountains and dense forests: Olympia.
To the king’s delight, the Oracle’s plan worked. Not only was his fragile truce upheld, but it was extended to three months as the Olympic Games drew pilgrims and athletes from all over Greece and its Meditteranean colonies.
The success ensured that the Games would be repeated every four years. Then, just as now, the leading competitors would become celebrities, famed for their athletic prowess. From Croton in southern Italy came the formidable wrestling champion Milo. Leonidas of Rhodes would finish his running career with 12 Olympic wreaths. Melankomas of Caria was a relentless boxing champion renowned for being able to fight for two continuous days and win without landing a single blow.
But while the champions took centre stage, the Games would continue to rely on the fearless and trailblazing Spondophoroi, and their ability to spread the word of the Olympic Truce without a drop of blood being spilled.
Nearly 3,000 years later, 140 characters and a well-timed press release will do the same job. Nobody needs to wear a wreath, carry a staff, or walk into harm’s way to announce the date of the next Olympic Games. But sport is still dependent on its hidden legends and forgotten icons, toiling in the background to benefit those in the foreground.
This month’s Off-Field newsletter features just a few of them, alongside overlooked greats from medicine, polar exploration, and space travel. Enjoy the selection.
This is an excerpt from the Off-Field newsletter. Subscribe, for free, here
