A Sport With A Long History

I'll state for the record that I give less than a crap about most American sports. I do enjoy hockey, but that's Canadian. And Matt and I usually attend a single baseball game each year -- however, we tend to annoy both sides by rooting for whatever team is playing well at that moment (no favorites, no allegiances!) But I could easily spend the rest of my life sans football, basketball, golf, car racing, or any of the others and be quite happy. I have nothing against the games themselves, it's the attitudes of the players that get on my nerves. While American sports seem to be more about grandstanding and talking smack than anything else, sumo is a bit of timeless history, preserved in a modern and ever-changing world.
(photo by Ramona Creel -- click to buy)

Here's a little history that I learned at the sumo museum. The sport dates back more than 1500 years, and wrestling matches actually began as a religious ritual -- a way of asking the gods for a good harvest. Early sumo was a lot like Australian no-rules football -- you could box, poke, punch, pull hair, and generally do whatever it took to unseat your opponent. But the Imperial Court decided that cat-fighting in the ring was unseemly, and began assigning rules to the sport in about the 8th century. Nowadays, anything beyond pushing, shoving, and tossing is pretty much forbidden. Competitors are naked except for a silken loincloth called a mawashi -- 10 yards long by 2 feet wide, folded six times then wrapped around the waist. This wrestling diaper is actually the key to successful sumo technique  -- 70 winning tricks are directly related to how you grab the other dude's loincloth and maneuver him around the ring. Amazingly enough, no one lost his belt during a match (not that I was itching to see any of these men in the buff -- I got an eyeful of butt-cheek as it was, and sumo are living proof that women aren't the only ones who suffer from cellulite!) However, I have heard horror stories about wrestlers straining so hard that they had an accident mid-match (let's not even go there...)

Sumo is more than just a spectator event. It was also used as a means of training the military for warfare, and is the basis for some forms of martial art (for example, jujitsu is nothing but a samurai offshoot of sumo.) Then, as Japan became more prosperous, folks had the leisure time to sit around all day and watch two overweight guys fling each other about -- recreational groups began to form, and sumo became the national sport during the height of the Edo period. The fact that matches today are almost identical in form to competitions held in the 17th century is amazing (no western sport has survived the industrial revolution and information age so completely intact.) It's also one of the few remaining examples of traditional ritual and etiquette in a professional contest. Dignity, and respect are hallmarks of sumo wrestling. Any taunting is entirely ceremonial (there's a lot of ritual posturing called "shikiri," where competitors glare and slap their bellies and try to intimidate their opponents, but it's all done in good fun.) From what I saw, the wrestlers seem to treat each other with a great deal of courtesy outside of the actual physical contact during the match, and the audience expects no less -- smack talk in the ring is encouraged, but gloating over a win or bitching about a loss is simply unacceptable. It's the exact opposite of the staged foolishness that accompanies WWF matches -- Hulk Hogan and Rowdy Roddy Piper, these guys are not!

The Life Of A Wrestler

Another large difference between east and west when it comes to sports is the lifestyle of the athletes. While these guys are considered celebrities (they have fan clubs, can be purchased in bobble-head form, and are worshiped by children across the country), sumo maintain a measure of solemnity and reserve that American athletes seem to lack. And I think a lot of it has to do with the culture surrounding their chosen career. All professional wrestlers in Japan are required to live in communal sumo training stables or "heya." There are currently 53 heya, mostly in the Ryogoku district near the stadium (hang around this neighborhood and you are guaranteed to see wrestlers on the streets just about any day of the week!) These stables are run and regulated by the Japanese Sumo Association, which dictates every aspect of the "rikishi's" daily life -- from what and when they eat, to how often they practice, to how they dress. Wrestlers are allowed to marry once they achieve a high status, but I wonder if these aren't arranged unions -- since there is no partying, no philandering, no social life at all outside of training in the early years. The sumo's existence is highly regimented, based on strict tradition, and rikishi live more like soldiers or monks than superstars.

Most wrestlers are recruited straight out of school at the age of 15 or 16, so they have almost no experience in the real world as free-roaming adults before becoming sumo. Rikishi live in dorms and are not allowed to go out in public without being accompanied by their sponsor or stablemaster until they reach the top division. Junior members of a stable also face a rough schedule -- as the equivalent of an army "grunt," they do all the chores, wait on higher-ranking  sumo hand and foot, and are hazed on a daily basis until they achieve some measure of status on their own (there is, of course, a high drop-out rate!) The question of gender discrimination is also becoming a divisive issue in the sport. While female wrestling is practiced in the west, it is not recognized by the Sumo Association and is never allowed above an amateur status. Women are not permitted to enter or touch the ring for fear of violating its purity. Things came to a head in 2000-2008, when the  female Governor of Osaka protested being forced to either present the Governor's Prize from the walkway beside the ring or send a male representative in her place (the Sumo Association won out -- I think at that point I would have said, "Screw you, you can't have your prize!)

You might wonder how wrestlers pack on all that weight -- do they snack all day long, or eat huge amounts of fatty foods? Actually, no. The major meal of the rikishi is called "chanko" -- a highly nutritious and healthful stew made of meat and vegetables (Matt and I had some for lunch at the stadium, and it was delicious!) It is usually eaten with rice and washed down with beer, which could certainly put on the pounds -- but the real trick is in when and how sumo consume their food. Wrestlers do not have breakfast, they eat a very large lunch, then take a long nap in order to convert nearly all of their calories into fat. Let that be a lesson to those of you who skip the morning meal and stuff yourself until you fall asleep at mid-day -- you'll end up looking like a sumo, if you're not careful!

Of course, this way of life takes a toll on the body. A sumo's life expectancy is more than 10 years shorter than the average Japanese male, and wrestlers are plagued by diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, liver problems, and arthritis. It's also an injury-prone sport -- nearly every one of these guys is taped together like a child's toy that has been badly abused by its owner (knees, shoulders, elbows, and ankles seem to take a particularly hard beating.) Why would anyone want to devote themselves to a sport that does so much damage and kills you before your time? The easiest answer is that it can be very lucrative for top sumo -- Yokozuna (the highest rank) earn more than $30,000 a month plus bonuses after every tournament. I'm sure the idea of becoming a celebrity is attractive to some. Others may see the sport as a religious commitment, or a way of performing a service to the community. Beyond that, I can only respond by pointing out professional football players in America are just as self-destructive -- a recent study showed that 19 out of 20 NFL players are being diagnosed in their mid-50's and early-60's with a long-term brain degeneration similar to Alzheimer's, directly linked to concussion and contact-related traumatic brain injury. On both sides of the world, the lure of fame and riches clearly outweighs common sense -- but what good is the money and attention if you're so broken-down you can't enjoy it?

Attending A Match

Matt and I had the good fortune of being in Tokyo during a Grand Tournament -- it's sort of like the World Series or Super Bowl of sumo. We worried about being able to get tickets (I did not relish the idea of attempting to negotiate with a scalper in Japanese!) However, it was easy as pie -- we got in line an hour before the festivities began and bought general admission to the nosebleed section. There isn't a bad seat at a sumo arena, and I'm frankly not sure I would want a box cushion anyway. Season-ticket holders crouch cross-legged on a mat, and those in the front run the risk of finding a 400-pound wrestler in their laps (when those bad boys go flying, they can do some serious damage!) Is it considered good luck to be crushed by a sumo?
(photo by Ramona Creel -- click to buy)

A single ticket buys admission to an entire day's worth of wrestling (several hundred matches between 9 AM and 6 PM -- not a bad deal for 2,100 yen!) Each match takes only a few minutes (in some cases, seconds, if one wrestler completely blows the other out of the water.) It's like most sporting events -- 90% getting ready and 10% action. However, when they do get moving, it's a fairly exciting and intense couple of seconds. A really good match is one that involves a hold-off -- either two wrestlers in a deadlock or a lot of shoving back and forth across the ring before someone is taken down in a violent and painful manner. For 15 straight days, these guys come back again and again, fighting a different opponent each time. When you think about the fact that each person competes only once a day, you realize how flipping many wrestlers are a part of this sport -- over 800 professional sumo, all told. And while competitions are held exclusively on this small island in the Pacific, you do not have to be Japanese to participate. An unprecedented 55 wrestlers (19 of which competed in the higher division matches we watched) were foreign-born, with a large number of Russian and Mongolian sumo holding top spots. A few more fun facts -- the biggest sumo in the league weighs a staggering 555 pounds and stands at 6'2" tall (God help the spectator or judge that guy falls on during a match!), and the top rikishi had won 807 matches (or "basho") thus far in his career. That's a lot of belly bumping!

The rules are ridiculously simple. Two athletes meet in the dohyo (a clay stage covered in a thin layer of sand.) Each stands on a mark inside of a 15-foot ring, and his goal is to either throw the other one down or force him out of the circle. Whichever wrestler touches any body part (aside from his feet) to the ground or steps even one centimeter outside of the circle loses the match. While punching your opponent is prohibited, it seems that a fast girly sort of slapping is entirely permissible (but not really recommended, as everyone I watched engaging in a smackdown lost his match -- apparently this tactic opens too many windows for a good shove from the other side.) A wrestler will be disqualified for hair-pulling, eye-gouging, choking, or kicking (this clearly is not the Japanese version of the WWF!) It's also unacceptable to grab the part of the front part of your opponent's loincloth, although going for the thong seems to be encouraged (I don't understand how every one of these guys isn't walking around with a permanent wedgie!) However, anything else goes. Plow into your opponent with your belly, ram your shoulder into his solar plexus, trip him, pick him up and slam him to the ground -- it's all good!

Rising To The Top Ranks

While these guys clearly do have muscles under the flab, mass is as important as strength in determining the winner of a match. And there are no weight classes or limits in sumo -- a skinny little 220-pounder could easily find himself facing an opponent twice his size. Speed and agility are  key for smaller wrestlers (sidestepping and allowing the other guy's forward momentum to trip him up seemed a popular and effective technique), and we did see a few pipsqueaks fling a big moosie to the ground -- but little and muscular still has a hell of a time shoving a 400-pound mountain with D-cup man-boobs out of the ring! What looks like a lot of flailing to a westerner actually involves a bit of strategy (as I learned from the English broadcast of the final matches.) The announcer (who sounded like Ky Risdall from NPR's "Marketplace") explained the difference between a toss-down and a twist-down, grabbing the pits versus reaching around your opponent, and a win that results from pushing the other wrestler out of the ring as compared to one involving someone hitting the dirt. The play-by-play was just like watching a baseball game on television (without the commercials!)

The tournament is not based on elimination, but on ranking. A wrestler doesn't have to beat every other opponent to come out on top -- he simply needs to have the best record of wins versus losses in order to walk home with the Emperor's Cup on the last day. Awards are also given for the rikishi who has upset the most champions, for those who show exceptional "fighting spirit," and for technique. But most important are the rankings. Sumo start out as trainees, then work their way through the lower division (Jo-No-Kuchi, Jo-Ni-Dan, San-Dan-Me, Makushita, and Juryo), and then the upper division (Maegashira, Komusubi, Sekiwake, Ozeki, and the highest rank of Yokozuna.) Referees are assessed in a similar fashion, and only high-ranking refs can officiate over a top match (I sort of presume that the way you rise in status is by consistently NOT being flattened by the guys you're overseeing!) It is a huge honor to be named a Yokozuna -- in 300 years, only 69 wrestlers have achieved this rank. Being a Yokozuna is like becoming a tenured professor (they can't demote you, no matter how badly you perform later on!) You can tell a sumo's rank by his hair style -- a less experienced wrestler has a simpler 'do, while the higher-ups get a more elaborate o-icho-mage (styled after a ginkgo leaf.) And the always-practical Japanese treat their top-knots as a safety measure, as well (padding if you are dropped on your head in the ring.)

The entire process is surrounded by tradition. Before each round, there is a colorful "entering-the-ring" ceremony, in which rikishi wear aprons made of silk and circle the stage in a ritual blessing. As wrestlers prepare to compete, they go through a series of steps -- symbolically rinsing their mouths and wiping down to cleanse their minds and bodies, scattering a handful of salt to purify the ring, clapping to attract positive attention from the gods, then lifting each leg and stamping it hard on the ground to drive away evil spirits. The referees or "gyoji" wear a traditional Shinto priest's hat and a kimono patterned after samurai garb from 800 years ago. They sing the rather poetic and flowery sumo name for each wrestler (many times ending in "-yama" for mountain, "-gawa" for river, or "-umi" for sea) in a high-pitched and warbly voice. Each ref has his own signature tune, and sings the names in the same intonation each time (several of them even had very vocal groupies in the audience!) Although the ref does call the winner, his main purpose seems to be the chanting of encouragements during the match -- assessment of technique is done by four judges, one on each side of the ring, dressed in black kimono. And the end of a day's matches are signaled by a dance in which a specially-chosen wrestler performs an intricate routine with a twirling bow -- it's meant to symbolize a sense of satisfaction on behalf of those rikishi who were victorious in their matches (similar to the prancing around football players do when they get a touchdown!)

A Day Of Fun

Matt and I sat in the stands and munched on soy-flavored nuts, wasabi rice crackers, and soft-boiled eggs (God bless my dear husband for looking closely at the "trail mix" -- the first one he picked up had little dried fish heads mixed in with the nuts!) We drank Kirin beer (each seat comes with a bottle opener) and had chanko for lunch. As the matches progressed to higher ranking sumo, there was a lot more shouting from the crowd -- but since it was hard to discern smack talk from "Go team go!" However, it's clear from the occasional chorus of teeny children's voices directed at one wrestler or another that this is a very family-friendly sport. I can't help but wonder if every pudgy little boy I see isn't dreaming someday of being a famous sumo!
(photo by Ramona Creel -- click to buy)

Should you desire a souvenir, there is no shortage of sumo-themed goodies available for sale (the Japanese have firmly embraced the western idea of merchandising!) You can buy sumo figurines and drink cups, autographed handprints in the , playing cards and posters, sumo-shaped cookies and chocolates, even a towel printed with squat little rikishi marching around in circles. For those who have a favorite competitor, you can have your picture super-imposed into a fan portrait thanks to a special digital photo booth in the lobby (this is the only one I really considered, but it was 2,000 yen, and I didn't know any of the guys anyway!) I'm happy enough having walked away with my memories and my photographs -- all of which are for sale, by the way!