University of Virginia English professor Mark Edmundson has written a fascinating essay entitled \u201cDo Sports Build Character or Damage It?\u201d\u00a0 The short answer is \u201cboth,\u201d or \u201ceither.\u201d\u00a0 In the course of his discussion, which draws on his own experience playing football, he points out Plato\u2019s observation that human beings have a need for thymos\u2013<\/em>the thirst for glory\u2013but that this passion needs to be subordinated to reason.\u00a0 Edmundson illustrates his points by contrasting the two major figures of Homer\u2019s Iliad<\/em>:\u00a0 Hector and Achilles.<\/p>\n In the Western heroic tradition, the paragon of the humane warrior is Homer\u2019s Hector, prince of the Trojans. He is a fierce fighter: On one particular day, no Greek can stand up to him; his valor puts the whole Greek army to rout. Even on an unexceptional day, Hector can stand up to Ajax, the Greek giant, and trade blow for blow with him. Yet as fierce as Hector can be, he is also humane. He is a loving son to his aged parents, a husband who talks on equal terms with his wife, Andromache, and a tender-hearted father. He and King Priam are the only ones in Troy who treat Helen, the ostensible cause of the war, with kindness.<\/p>\n The scene concentrates what is most appealing about Hector\u2014and about a certain kind of athlete and warrior. Hector can turn it off. He can stop being the manslayer that he needs to be out on the windy plains of Troy and become a humane husband and father. The scene shows him in his dual nature\u2014warrior and man of thought and feeling. In a sense, he is the figure that every fighter and athlete should emulate. He is the Navy Seal or Green Beret who would never kill a prisoner, the fearless fighter who could never harm a woman or a child. In the symbolic world of sports, where the horrors and the triumphs of combat are only mimicked, he is the one who comports himself with extreme gentleness off the field, who never speaks ill of an opponent, who never complains, never whines.<\/p>\n But The Iliad<\/em> is not primarily about Hector. It is the poem of Achilles and his wrath. After Hector kills Achilles\u2019 dear friend Patroclus, Achilles goes on a rampage, killing every Trojan he can. All humanity leaves him; all mercy is gone. At one point, a Trojan fighter grasps his knees and begs for mercy. Achilles taunts him: Look at me, he says, so strong and beautiful, and some day I, too, shall have to die. But not today. Today is your day. At another point, a river close to the city, the River Scamander, becomes incensed over Achilles\u2019 murderous spree. The hero has glutted its waters with blood and its bed with bodies. The river is so enraged that it tries to drown the hero. When Achilles finally gets to Hector, he slaughters him before the eyes of his parents, Hecuba and Priam, and drags his body across the plains of Troy.<\/p>\n Achilles is drunk on rage, the poem tells us. His rational mind has left him, and he is mad with the joy of slaughter. The ability to modulate character that Hector shows\u2014the fierce warrior becoming the loving father\u2014is something Achilles does not possess. Achilles, one feels, could not stop himself if he wished to: A fellow Greek who somehow insulted him when he was on his rampage would be in nearly as much danger as a Trojan enemy. Plato would recognize Achilles as a man who has lost all reason and has allowed thymos<\/em> to dominate his soul.<\/p>\n This ability to go mad\u2014to become berserk\u2014is inseparable from Achilles\u2019 greatness as a warrior. It is part of what sets him above the more circumspect Hector on the battlefield. When Hector encounters Achilles for the last time, Hector feels fear. Achilles in his wrath has no idea what fear is, and that is part of what makes him unstoppable.<\/p>\n