Hidden legends, forgotten pioneers, and a nod to the Spondophoroi
#7: Behind the scenes at the Super Bowl, a snowy centenary, the quiet brilliance of storming Norma, and a corned beef sandwich in space...
Tales from the fringes of sport and society…
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.
Super Bowl Rings: A Glitzy History of NFL Bling
In 2023, the NFL accounted for 93% of the most-watched TV shows in the USA. To say that it’s bucking a trend in linear television is the sort of subtle understatement that belongs nowhere near America’s favourite sport. It’s big, brash, and unashamedly patriotic. The production bursts with swishing graphics, fanfare trumpets, and studios so glossy they make Match of the Day look like it’s being recorded from Gary Lineker’s shed.
A week on Sunday sees the sport’s jewel in the crown, as the Kansas City Chiefs get the chance to win a third Super Bowl in five years, up against marginal favourites the San Francisco 49ers.
Expect the pazazz to be ramped up a notch this year. Not only is fidgety popstar Usher in charge of the half-time knees-up, but it’ll take place in the world’s capital of gaudy pomp, Las Vegas. Oh, and a certain Taylor Swift will be in attendance, too.
If there's one item that symbolises the decadent growth of the NFL and its aversion to understatement, it's the ostentatious jewellery awarded every year to the winning team. Today’s championship rings are as wide as they are tall, and if you want to know all about the history of these diamond-encrusted knuckle dusters and meet the colourful jeweller who designs them, tuck into my piece for Reader’s Digest published ahead of last season’s showpiece.
Snow Whisperers
January saw the Winter Olympic Games celebrate its centenary, with the first edition having taken place in snowy Chamonix in 1924. Held at the foot of France’s beautiful Mont Blanc, the Games saw nearly two metres of snowfall over the valley just days before it was due to commence, meaning that organisers were forced to clear the snow at venues - such as the ice rink - where it wasn’t welcomed.
Today’s Winter Olympic facilitators are rarely required to shift an excess of snow. By contrast, the ongoing effects of climate change mean that they’re regularly tasked with finding or even creating the white canvas on which the wintery elite can perform. This episode of Unsung features some of those responsible for this meteorological magic act.
Virginia Kraft: Sports Illustrated's Forgotten Pioneer
It's not been a stellar month for Sports Illustrated, as one of America's finest journalism institutions announced a raft of layoffs amid an uncertain future. Fingers crossed it survives an increasingly fraught media landscape, and I wish the affected staff the best of luck in finding new posts.
Long Lead’s wonderful piece on Virginia Kraft, who writer Emily Sohn suggests might be the most influential sports journalist nobody has ever heard of, is a reminder of the calibre of journalism SI built its reputation on.
“She was the first woman to race in a major dogsled event in Alaska, the first woman and first foreign journalist to hunt with General Francisco Franco of Spain, and likely the only mother of four to traverse six continents to take down all of the Big Five trophy animals. Yet despite the enduring reputation enjoyed by her male contemporaries at SI — including George Plimpton, Frank Deford, and Roy Blount Jr. — her work has since faded into obscurity.”
Behind the Scenes of the Most Spectacular Show on TV
If you, like me, will be foolishly forgoing your eight hours kip next Sunday night in favour of midnight snacks, warm drinks, and a masterclass from Usher Patrick Mahomes, you might be interested to read this New York Times Magazine story on the mammoth production involved in beaming an NFL game into the homes of millions across the world. Per game, this includes a broadcasting workforce of 200, a convoy of 10 trucks, a backup generator, and hundreds of miles of fibre-optic cables.
I especially enjoyed the insight from the audio engineer who essentially acts as an in-game DJ, ensuring we get everything from the grunt of the quarterback to the doink of the football hitting the goalpost "like a giant tuning fork".
Norma Izard Obituary
Last summer's Ashes double-header was a fantastic showcase for the women's game, especially as it proved to be just as dramatic and closely fought as the men's series, and watched by record crowds to boot. Much of the credit for the rise in English women's cricket - which remained entirely amateur until the 1990s - must go to Norma Izard, the team's former manager who died last month aged 90. A World Cup winner in 1993 and one of the first women to be admitted to membership at Lord's, ‘Storming’ Norma's quiet influence from behind the scenes is tenderly reflected in this Guardian obituary written by Raf Nicholson.
Australia’s Unsung Hero
Ever heard of George Hubert Wilkins? No, I hadn't either but I didn't feel too bad because, according to this story about him in Australian Geographic, neither had a majority of people in his homeland. It turns out that Wilkins was a polar explorer, pioneer aviator, war photographer, environmentalist, and a champion for the rights of Indigenous Australians. As well as describing his many remarkable achievements, this article from adventure historian Jeff Maynard reveals the intriguing reasons why Wilkins has been overlooked and forgotten by so many for so long.
Illustrators are the Hidden Heroes of Medicine
The job of the medical illustrator is to draw what can’t be seen and watch what’s never been done, according to this fascinating article from Fast Company. Historical medical illustrations from ancient Egypt and the Renaissance period are referenced, but perhaps what comes as more of a surprise in the age of virtual reality and AI, is that hand-drawn sketches of human anatomy are still very much in demand. One such drawing even went viral during the Covid-19 pandemic.
Remembering the Astronaut Who Smuggled a Sandwich Into Space
John Young, who died aged 87 in 2018, was the longest-serving astronaut in NASA's history. Not only did he spend 835 hours in space, but he’s even among the 12 people to have walked on the moon. And yet, in the annals of space exploration, Young has gone down as the man who sneaked a corned beef butty into space.
According to this fun write-up from Atlas Obscura, Young was reprimanded for risking the safety of his spacecraft, and he’d later bemoan the fact that history won’t remember him for his amazing deeds, but instead for a daft prank that sounds like a guerilla marketing stunt from Greggs.
The Boys in the Boat, Daniel James Brown
“Standing there, watching them, it occurred to me that when Hitler watched Joe and the boys fight their way back from the rear of the field to sweep ahead of Italy and Germany seventy-five years ago, he saw, but did not recognize, heralds of his doom. He could not have known that one day hundreds of thousands of boys just like them, boys who shared their essential natures—decent and unassuming, not privileged or favoured by anything in particular, just loyal, committed, and perseverant—would return to Germany dressed in olive drab, hunting him down.”
Daniel James Brown tells the true story of the University of Washington's rowing team and their quest for gold at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. As ever when it comes to the best of historical non-fiction, I read this in awe of the hours of research and reporting it must have taken Brown to uncover this level of detail, before being able to flick a creative switch to portray life during the depths of the Great Depression in such evocative, lyrical prose. Originally published in 2013, the book is likely to enjoy a renewed appreciation due to the George Clooney adaptation out in cinemas now.
Thanks for reading February’s edition of Off-Field. If you know of anyone who might like any of this month’s picks, why not forward them this newsletter or hit the share button below.
If there’s anything you read, listen to, or watch over the next month that you’d like to recommend for a future edition, do let me know via alexisnjames@gmail.com.