How to Wrestle a Centaur
Much has been said about the Elgin Marbles. But it was not until I toured the British Museum myself that I understood their true significance, and especially that of the Acropolitan Metopes. In fact, these sculptures, “acquired,” according to the British Museum’s website, during Lord Elgin’s stay in Athens, are the greatest surviving resource about the venerable, long-lost art of Centaur Wrestling.
Centaur Wrestling is referenced in passing in many classical texts, and catalogues suggest that central episodes in the lost Aetheopis and Nostoi prominently featured this art, but the Metopes go beyond reference or description to provide the foundational principles of Centaur Wrestling, which must have formed the basis of meditation for practitioners of all levels of the art.
For example:
Kalliphrenos knows that centaurs, while very dangerous in front, cannot turn at the waist as readily as humans. As a result, centaurs are very vulnerable when grabbed by their jaw. Kalliphrenos is especially clever, here—the centaur has been stabbed in the back, and wants to pull to the right, while Kalliphrenos pulls its jaw around to the left. The centaur sure is in trouble now!
Kakiphrenos, on the other hand, is trying to knee this centaur in the groin. Unfortunately for Kakiphrenos, centaurs keep their reproductive equipment between their rear legs. Looks like Kakiphrenos is in trouble—hopefully his eye gouge will be enough to break the centaur’s hold on his windpipe! Unfortunately, Kakiphrenos seems to have forgotten about the centaur’s rear-hand weapon. Oh no, Kakiphrenos!
And here, Kakiphrenos is in even worse trouble! He thinks he’s safe because he has a shield, but even though he’s blocked the attack of the centaur’s right arm, the centaur has a wine jug in his left hand—not to mention two plunging hooves about to drive straight down into Kakiphrenos’ unprotected midsection! Remember, friends: centaurs have four attacking limbs when confronted head-on.
Ariston is doing very well! Rather than letting the centaur bear him down, Ariston has waited for the centaur to rear—then stepped in between the centaur’s hooves to punch it in the face. Good work, Ariston!
Kakiston, on the other hand, tried to retreat from the rearing centaur—but he did not look behind himself first, and has tripped over a wine jug! Based on the condition of this carving, it’s hard to tell what the centaur himself is doing, but things don’t look good for Kakiston.
Castor has tried to punch the centaur from a crouching position—but he is out of distance to land a solid hit against the centaur, and his crouch has made him vulnerable to the centaur’s plunging hooves!
Pollux has a better idea: he has kicked out the centaur’s leg, then leapt upon him from behind. The centaur is trapped, and looks to be in very serious trouble. Go Pollux!
The comprehensive nature of this guide to centaur self-defense suggests an ulterior motive for Lord Elgin’s appropriation of the Marbles. Perhaps, given centaurs’ propensity for attacking royal marriages, Lord Elgin believed the royal family of the United Kingdom was at risk. Is there a secret centaur population in the United Kingdom? Certainly it would explain the existence of the Horse Guard—what horses are they guarding against, anyway? Surely a clear and present centaur threat would be a greater incentive to Grand Theft Acropolis than “well, you know, they just looked so pretty I had to take them.”
Regardless, I suggest anyone who plans to wrestle a centaur in the near term consult the Acropolitan Metopes. I know of no more comprehensive resource on the subject!
