In 1894, exactly 1,500 years after the ancient Olympics ended, a French baron named Pierre de Coubertin (koo-buhr-TAN; 1863-1937) resurrected them. Coubertin saw the Olympics as a way to bring the nations of the world together in peace. He presided over the first modern Olympics at Athens in 1896. Except in 1916, 1940, and 1944 (during the two world wars) the Games would be held every four years thereafter, with the addition of Winter Games in 1924. (Starting in 1994, the Winter Games were held in even-numbered non-Olympic years.)
By the 1980s and 1990s, however, the Olympics began to be plagued by a series of problems. On several occasions, nations boycotted the Games—that is, they refused to participate as a form of political protest. There were concerns that athletes were cheating by taking drugs to help them perform. Many observers feared that the Games had been taken over by wealthy corporations and powerful politicians. People longed for a simpler time; what most did not know, however, was that the problems of the modern Olympics were not new.
The Spartans initiated the first sports boycott in 420 B. C. By attacking Athens and thus resuming the Peloponnesian War, they broke the Olympic truce. The Olympic truce stated that no city should attack another during the Games. Rather than pay a fine to the temple at Olympia, Sparta kept its athletes at home. A few years later, a tyrant named Dionysius the Elder (die-uh-NISH-uhs; c. 430-367
(241 kilometers) away, with a message that the Athenians needed reinforcements. The runner's name was Phidippides (fi-DIP-uh-deez), and by the time he returned to Marathon, the battle was over. The commander needed someone to carry the message of victory to Athens, which was about to be attacked by Persian ships, so he sent Phidippides. The latter is said to have run at top speed, gasped out the message as soon as he reached Athens, and died. Though this story may be part legend, it certainly marks the origins of the marathon, a 26-mile race that became an Olympic event.
Darius longed to repay the Greeks for Marathon, but he did not live to do so. The job fell to his son Xerxes, who marched a vast army against Greece in 480 b. c. Three key battles followed in the space of about a year.
B. c.) convinced an athlete from another city to compete for his own town of Syracuse. The athlete, Dicon (DIE-kahn), might be considered the first "free agent" in history.
After Dionysius, more and more kings and wealthy men began trying to get a share of the Olympic athletes' glory. Some brought their royal horse teams to the chariot races, where their wealth gave them the advantage. Few had the honesty of Alexander the Great, who competed as an ordinary athlete and tied for first place in a sprint competition. At the other extreme was the Roman emperor Nero, who attended the a. d. 68 Games. Because Rome controlled Greece, Nero could demand any prize he wanted. Therefore he won the chariot race even though he was thrown from his chariot. Between the Olympics and
Other contests such as the Pythian Games, Nero won more than 1,800 first prizes as an athlete, singer, harpist, and actor.
In A. D. 394, nearly 1,200 years after the Olympics first began, the Roman emperor Theodosius I banned them because, as a christian, he considered the Games a pagan (PAY-guhn) festival. By then, however, the Olympics had long before ceased to hold the importance they once had. The city of Olympia died out. Its stadium and hippodrome (HIP-uh-drohm, a place for chariot races) were destroyed; so was the statue of Zeus. Robbers carried off the gold and ivory. After an earthquake in the 600s, a nearby river flowed over the site of the Games, covering all traces of its former glory.
The first battle took place at Thermopylae (thuhr-MAHP-uh-lee), a narrow mountain pass on the coast of Boeo-tia. The Persians, helped by a Greek traitor, managed to attack the Greeks both from the front and the rear. The Greek commander, Sparta's King Leonidas (lee-oh-NIE-duhs; r. 490?-480 B. C.), recognized the impossibility of the situation. He ordered his entire force of about 7,000 to retreat—except for his 300-odd Spartan hoplites. Some 700 Boeotians chose to remain with them. Together the thousand warriors—Leonidas included—fought to their deaths. Despite the bravery of Leonidas and the others, the Persians won at Thermopylae, but only with a heavy expense in casualties.
Xerxes and the Persian army next marched to Athens, which they found deserted: the residents had been removed to
The tiny island of Salamis (SAH-luh-mis) off the western coast of Attica. An angered Xerxes ordered the city burned. But the Greeks had a secret weapon, and it sat waiting for the Persians in the narrow strait that separated Salamis from the mainland. This was a fleet of triremes (TRY-reemz), a highly mobile type of warship with three rows of oarsmen and a bronze battering ram on the front.
The Athenians had built the triremes at the urging of the archon and general Themistocles (thuh-MIS-tuh-kleez; c. 524—c. 460 B. C.), who now posed as a traitor and sent a message to Xerxes, advising him to trap the Greeks in the strait by closing off both ends with his warships. It was a brilliant piece of strategy. By blocking the entrances, the Persians kept themselves from bringing in reinforcements, whereas the light and maneuverable triremes moved back and forth with ease, simply going around the Persians' bulky ships. Xerxes, who had ordered his throne placed in a spot where he could watch his fleet's victory, instead witnessed its defeat. Soon afterward he left Greece, never to return.
In the following year, 479 b. c., an outnumbered Greek force led by Spartan hoplites overwhelmed Xerxes's son-in-law Mardonius (mahr-DOH-nee-uhs) at Plataea (pluh-TEE-uh) on the coast just north of Salamis. A few days later, in a sea battle at Mycale (MI-kuh-lee) just off the Ionian coast, the Greek navy completed the defeat of the Persians.