There's Something About Sumo

When one thinks of sumo wrestling, the first image that springs to mind is a massive man, clad only in a loincloth, wrestling another man dressed just as sparingly. To some of us, this sight is baffling; to others, it is thrilling; to the Japanese, it is business as usual. Sumo wrestling is, after all, the national sport of Japan, and even the ancient Japanese…

Okay, this is how my latest article – "Sumo Summa Summarum", sumo wrestling in a nutshell – begins. Since I’ll be staying here in Japan for a while, I figured I might as well try to write some articles in my notebook about local curiosities and see if I could sell my stories somewhere.

A penniless writer must seize earning opportunities with an open mind. I spent a day acting as a scarecrow in a rice farmer’s field, and as a reward for my trouble, I received a free ticket to a local sumo event. During my long years of lifelessness, I haven't shown the slightest interest in any national sports whatsoever, but since a free ticket is a free ticket, here I am, in the highest seats of the sumo arena.

When asked what sumo wrestling is, one could just as easily ask what sumo wrestling is not. Sumo is a way of life, it is a tradition, it is the way, the truth, and…

Boring! When does the match actually start? The audience is trickling into their seats at a snail's pace. I have already nearly finished all my rice balls. Fortunately, I was able to smuggle all sorts of snacks into the arena under my robe, so I’m moving on to the rice omelet next. I’m certain that even if I pulled a whole grilled wild boar from under my hem, no one would care – whereas at a certain Finnish movie theater, that earned me a years-long ban.

There is a sense of a great sporting spectacle in the air. The calm before the storm, the surge beneath the surface. As they search for their seats, numerous spectators are packed together tightly, but miraculously they remain serene and patient, their thoughts already on the sumo. 

While waiting, there is time to examine the arena. The clay wrestling ring looms in the distance, and in its immediate vicinity stand officials dressed in traditional attire, clutching floor brushes. The referee is apparently dressed in a colorful silk coat and a stately hat, accessorized with a sword – and a fan? Hmm… why?

Should I consider a bit more colorful clothing myself, or even accessories? On the other hand, I don't have a face for hats, and the sheet billowing over me emphasizes my best features well enough. Simplicity is the key to elegance, as Coco Chanel once taught me. Though, she might have been talking about intelligence…

The audience of thousands is dressed in their best. For some, it means traditional Japanese attire with stylized topknot hairstyles, and for others, T-shirts and promotional caps adorned with their employer's logo. Although the spectators seem restrained and controlled at first glance, as the competition progresses, they throw their reservations onto the tatami with the force of a kimarite and roar their favorite wrestlers' names in unison. The more epic the match, the more deafening the shout – sumo unites landowners and peasants, geishas and empresses alike.

Now something seems to be happening. The sumo wrestlers march into the ring. Ceremonial hand-waving follows. They leave. The rice omelet is finished. Two wrestlers return to the ring. Ceremonial bowing follows. The wrestlers throw salt into the ring, stretch out their arms, slap themselves, stomp the ring with their feet, deep squat – that squatting position would certainly be felt in my own knees – and take their positions. Time stands still.

Now the match begins!

Sumo is a combat sport where a wrestler tries to force the opponent out of the ring by throwing, pushing, or toppling them. In sumo, the greatest possible body mass is preferred, as the more substantial the wrestler, the harder it is to be thrown, pushed, or toppled. However, mass alone isn't enough to succeed in sumo; it requires technique and experience, cunning and timing.

And now the match ends. It lasted about five seconds. The winner pushed the loser out of the ring like a small bulldozer. The loser bows and departs; the winner receives a handful of papers. Money, perhaps? I can’t see clearly from this far away. I’ll try to edge closer.

The holy sumo wrestling ring, or dohyō, is always rebuilt before every tournament from the sacred clay of the Arakawa River. Constructing the ring takes three days, and its inauguration involves numerous sacred ceremonies. After the tournament, the dohyō is dismantled, and fans take pieces of it with them as a memento of the event. Whether a sumo wrestler's match ends in triumph or defeat, the noble traditions of sumo and the clay itself continue their eternal cycle.

There are plenty of spectators in front of the ring, but if I squeeze myself into some gap, I’ll see better. Excuse me, madam, sumimasen, just passing through quickly, oops, my apologies, sir… There is clearly a free spot here in the front row; I’ll sit down calmly and confidently so no one starts complaining. Fortunately, the Japanese are so polite that they won’t say anything, and if someone does, I’ll pretend not to understand.

My view improved significantly! The tension is practically palpable, then again, one throw in the wrong direction in the ring and a sumo wrestler would be palpable too. Surely not, though; they can’t fly all the way here, can they?

Now two officials are synchronously sweeping the sand on the surface of the ring with brushes. Wow, I love sweeping; I could watch it for hours. These numerous ceremonies are fascinating. My understanding is that, among other things, they are used to ward off evil spirits. Japan is full of otherworldly residents, and naturally, even sumo wrestling has its own spirits. I wonder where they are hiding?

To be a sumo wrestler! Plenty of food, traditions, prestige, and admirers... and work for only seconds at a time. What a profession! That reminds me:

Women also practice sumo wrestling, specifically as a hobby, as professional status is forbidden to women for religious reasons. As in so many sports, there is plenty of work to be done for equality in sumo as well. In the opinion of the undersigned, the guidelines for all sports should be updated to suit the modern world. I would happily offer my services as a scribe for the revised rules, naturally for a suitable fee…

If we are being completely honest, I feel a sense of fuzziness while watching the sumo-ness. I thought I was going to a wrestling match, but I ended up in the middle of ancient ceremonies and strange rituals. Hmm, maybe I could write an entire book about sumo? Expand my article, perhaps sign up for a summer job with the sumo association? I would reveal the secrets of the sport to the general public. I almost ought to write said book simply so that I myself would understand something about sumo.

Once again, a new match is about to begin, but I don't have time to follow it now, as writing inspiration strikes:

Sumo is a fascinating sport, even for those who would rather pick up writing tools than sporting gear. In sumo, the passing moment stands still, and both wrestlers and spectators travel back in time to the origins of the sport. Read more in my latest book, where we plunge headlong into sumo…

Hmm, what is that shadow being cast onto my notepad? It is a sumo wrestler thrown from the ring, falling on top of me, estimated weight 175 kilograms. Clearly, it wasn't worth angering the spirits of sumo by squeezing into a front-row seat under false pretenses.

Why couldn't I have gotten a free ticket to an ikebana course?

THUD!

 

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