Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Odysseus finds himself washed up on an island ruled by King Alcinous, where he is told

We’re hardly world-class boxers or wrestlers, I admit,
but we can race like the wind, we’re champion sailors, too,
and always dear to our hearts, the feast, the lyre, and dance
and changes of fresh clothes, our warm baths and beds,
so come– all you Phaecian masters of the dance–
now dance away!  So our guest can tell his friends,
when he reaches home, how far we excel the world
in sailing, nimble footwork, dance and song.

So, this is an island of men who are not keen on sports, but are well-groomed, snazzy dressers who like dancing and dance music.

Huh.

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