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The sand under the wrestler's feet felt coarse and grainy, hot under the beating rays of

the sun.

The grains clung to his body held in place by the sweat coating his bare skin.

His heart pounded and he gasped for breath, blood filling his arms and shoulders, making

them feel heavy and exhausted.

His opponent, circling just a few strides distance across the square, looked as bad

as the wrestler felt.

Blood streamed from a squashed nose and he stepped gingerly on an ankle that had twisted

as he fell to the ground early in the match.

Both had fallen twice, the sand stuck to their backs and patches, and a third fall would

crown the wrestling match's victor.

Though neither man could hear it through the fog of pain and adrenaline, the crowd had

reached a fever pitch of shouting and cheering.

To the victor would go all the accolades, the fame and the glory.

People across the Greek world would know his name, everywhere from Athens to Corinth

to Syracuse.

The first wrestler ground his teeth together and lunged forward, grabbing a hold of his

opponent and wrapping his arms around the man's back in a crushing hug.

He tried to lift him off the ground, but the other man was too strong.

The second wrestler shucked his arm off, twisted his hips and tossed his foe toward the

...