Sumo!

Sumo hiatus – Many of you know that I worked in Japan for three years before I married and moved here to Honolulu. That was 28 years ago! I had a wonderful time there and immersed myself in the culture, history and language – my wife (girlfriend at the time) helped a lot – but I also studied Japanese archery and became fascinated with sumo wrestling on my own. Just this year we started to subscribe to NGN, Japanese TV, and so now, every two months I am lucky that I can watch the Grand Sumo Tournament.

The tournaments are held six times a year, for 15 days. During this time, I watch every night from 9 PM to 11 PM – thus, my hiatus from this blog. No time to watch movies!

This is exciting stuff for me, but borders on ridiculous boredom for my 23-year-old son. That's okay, I love the ritual and the history of the sumo, so indulge me while I jot down some of my impressions. If you watch sumo, indulge me further for any inaccuracies:

The feeling this ancient sport conveys is, to me anyway, complex and deep. The sumo wrestlers train in stables (clubs) and have very specific rank. They are professionals – they earn salaries. The Higher ranked wrestlers are treated like royalty. Even the referees, judges, the hair groomers, and the men who sweep the ring, have ranks and belong to different clubs or stables. Sumo is a sport of hierarchy. Sumo is a sport of tradition.

The matches between the 300 to 400 pound gladiators take place on an elevated platform made of hard packed earth. When it is their turn to fight, the wrestlers come out from the locker rooms and sit patiently, on their own private pillow below the ring, waiting for their name to be called. The caller, usually a tiny little Japanese man, is dressed in a plain workingman's kimono, but when he comes to the center of the ring, everyone goes quiet. The audience listens to his powerful voice as he sings the wrestlers' names.

The wrestlers step onto the platform, into the circular ring, wearing their traditional sumo belt – this covers about as much as a Brazilian thong, but it is thick and strong around the belly. Facing each other, they bow, stomp their feet, and show their outstretched naked muscular arms – a signal that they are unarmed, but ready to fight. Make no mistake about it, these are big, strong, muscular men. The wrestlers strut slowly to their designated corners – the East and the West. They are given purified water to drink from a fellow wrestler, and from an attendant, a cloth to wipe their sweat.

After a few moments of contemplation, they grab a handful of salt from an overflowing basket, face the center of the ring and toss it high into the air – purifying the ring. Moving to the center, they face off just a few feet from each other, squat and stare into each other's eyes – sizing up the competition. Usually the higher ranking of the two will break the stare, stand up and turn away, like a bull who knows he is superior in every way. This facing off ritual repeats itself four more times, until finally they come to the center ready to do battle. The suspense builds. Some audience members yell words of encouragement to their favorite.

The referee, dwarfed by the tremendous bodies of the warriors, stands between them dressed formally in a colorful kimono – one that rivals the most beautiful garments worn by Japanese women. He holds a lacquer fan at just the right angle, signaling the wrestlers that he is ready to judge their bout. There's no starting bell ring, gunshot or whistle – the wrestlers know instinctively when to begin. Suddenly, the wrestlers slam together, like huge buffalo during the rut.

"Wham!" They slap, push, grab and pull with all of their considerable weight and might, trying to throw each other on to the ground or out of the ring. Most matches last only a few seconds. They sacrifice their entire bodies for the win, often flying off the earth platform into the audience at the same time. The man who touches the ground first, loses. The crowd cheers loudly if it has been a good fight. Sometimes when the highest-ranking wrestlers lose to a lower ranking wrestler, the crowd will jeer and throw their pillows into the air – either showing their dismay at the loss or their joy at the upset.

When the match is over, the wrestlers return to their respective side of the ring. The loser bows and leaves the arena. The referee announces the winner with a resounding flourish, and often gives him several envelopes – cash reward for a job well done. The commentators chatter incessantly, analyzing every detail of the match. There are hundreds of ways to describe the winning technique. They speculate on injuries and the next day's matchup.

The sweepers ready the ring. The caller announces the next match. The sumo continues...