As Cambridge Professor of Classics Mary Beard, one of the smartest women in recorded human history, wrote in her blog the other day,
The ancient Olympic Games were considerably more modest than our own -- and no synchronised diving, thank heavens. But the Greek cities made even more of a fuss than we do about their victorious, medal winning (or rather olive-wreath winning) athletes.
The classic ceremony was to have the victor enter his home town in a four-horse chariot through a hole in the city wall specially demolished for the occasion. Who needs walls, after all, when you’ve got splendid young men like this victor?.
The follow-up rewards included a state pension (in the form of free meals for life), front row seats at the theatre, and maybe a poem in celebration of the success.
The obvious idea here is for Peter Gelb to give Mr. Phelps a lifetime subscription to the Met, then beg him to come over to New York for the premieres as often as he can -- and, if at all possible, bring some of his teammates. No need to wear suits for our Olympians. Or even, shirts, actually.
I'm sure the Greeks would approve.