blog de Wrestlingfan14

Another of my favorite texts is "The Epic of Gilgamesh". This beautiful poem from Mesopotamia describes an amazing fight between Gilgamesh and Enkidu before they become friends. Here is one of my favorite parts:

“The men rejoiced: ‘Now Gilgamesh has met his match. This great'one, this hero whose beauty is like a god, he is a match even for Gilgamesh. ’

In Umk the bridal bed was made, fit for the goddess of love. The bride waited for the bridegroom, but in the night Gilgamesh got up and came to the house. Then Enkidu stepped out, he stood in the street and blocked the way. Mighty Gilgamesh came on and Enkidu met him at the gate. He put out his foot and prevented Gilgamesh from entering the house, so they grappled, holding each other like bulls. They broke the doorposts and the walls shook, they snorted like bulls locked together. They shattered the doorposts and the walls shook. Gilgamesh bent his knee with his foot planted on the ground and with a turn Enkidu was thrown. Then immediately his fury died. When Enkidu was thrown he said to Gilgamesh, ‘There is not another like you in the world. Ninsun, who is as strong as a wild ox in the byre, she was the mother who bore you, and now you are raised above all men, and Enlil has given you the kingship, for your strength surpasses the strength of men.’ So Enkidu and Gilgamesh embraced and their friendship was sealed.”

When I was a kid I read "The Iliad" and when I finished reading the following part, I became a big fan of Alpha Males who like fighting each other. I became a truly admirer of male strength and virility.

«Then he (Achilles) announced the bout: ‘Rise now, whichever pair of warriors will try their skill.’ At his words, Telamonian Ajax stepped forward, and cunning Odysseus also got to his feet, a man of many wiles. When they had both prepared, they entered the ring, and came to grips, clasping each other in their mighty arms, locked together like the sloping rafters that some skilled craftsman sets in place on a tall house, to resist the winds. Their backs creaked under the pressure of their strong hands, and the sweat ran down in streams, while many a blood-red weal appeared on their shoulders and ribs, as they strove for the ornate tripod and the glory. Odysseus could no more trip Ajax, and floor him, than Ajax could move powerful Odysseus’ firm stance. But when they began to weary the watching Achaeans, Ajax spoke quietly to Odysseus: ‘Zeus-born son of Laertes, Odysseus of the many wiles, you’d best try lift me, or I you, and let Zeus decide the matter.’
So saying, he tried a lift, but Odysseus knew a trick or two. He kicked Ajax hard in the back of his knee, and toppled him backwards, falling on his chest. The spectators looked on admiringly, as they stood and noble long-enduring Odysseus in turn tried a lift, raising him off the ground a fraction, then failing to lift him further crooking a leg round Ajax’s knee, so they fell side by side, smothered in dust. They sprang up ready for a third round, but Achilles restrained them: ‘No more, don’t wear each other out. You were both victorious, and shall have identical prizes: there are other events now for competition.’ With this, they readily retired, and wiping the dust from their bodies, donned their tunics.»