Sumo is the Best

Tuesday, Jan 19, 2016

After the unexpected snowfall on Monday, we were back to a sunny—albeit windy and cold—day for sumo. I was excited.  I’ve always been fascinated by it, but after watching several bouts on TV I’ve become a huge sumo fan and couldn’t wait to experience the whole only-in-Japan event.

Tickets are available as either box seats or western seats (chairs) in various amounts of money. Box seats were out of the question for many reasons—the main one being that they consist of only cushions on the floor within a very tiny piece of real estate. Our Japanese friends told us these areas are mostly for the older, traditional (and tiny) Japanese fans. Regardless, I knew there was no way I could sit on a pillow for longer than ten minutes so we went for the cheapest reserved seats (about $45pp). There are cheaper $25 seats available for previously unsold seats if one wants to arrive on the day of the event around 8am, and hope something is available—but I wasn’t taking any chances of missing out, so we opted for the reserved options. Here’s the official link to purchase tickets: http://sumo.pia.jp/en/.

With a pre-purchased ticket one has the option of going to the sumo hall anytime after 8am when the doors open with the bouts starting at 8:30am. However, few people come that early since it’s only junior wrestlers in the early part of the day. The top division of wrestlers doesn’t start until 3:45, and the division directly under them—the Juryo—doesn’t start until 2:20pm. We got there about this time and the stadium was still pretty empty.

I didn’t care that we were early, in sumo-viewing terms, however. I wanted to explore the stadium and the sumo museum, and take advantage of any and all the available photo ops (of which there were blissfully quite a few), and to fully absorb the whole experience.

And there were lots of fun surprises starting at the subway station of Ryogoku Kokugikan. Here there were huge paintings of some of the top wrestlers, a display featuring their handprints and autographs, and lots of posters for the tournament. It was obvious we were in the right place and about to see sumo.

Exiting the station, there were a few tables selling sumo trinkets, and a small stone statue of two wrestlers.

Turning right at the statue, past some Chanko Stew restaurants—which makes up the official sumo diet—we headed towards the flags flapping in the wind. Or one can just follow big boys in top-knots and kimonos shuffling in that direction.

In this area between the station and the stadium there are more vendors for gifts and food. We stopped to have a nibble of fried chicken pieces and hot sake before heading to the stadium. Near here is also the South Gate where all but the highest-ranked wrestlers enter the stadium which makes it a great chance for photos of the rising stars.

After picking up our tickets at will-call, we went on through the gates and directly found some fun photo opportunities.

Then we entered the stadium, and on the right, just past the huge cardboard cutouts of the sumo champions (more photo ops), is the small sumo museum which is currently featuring the life of a champion who recently died. Facing this main entrance is a huge display case of past trophies, and going left we found food and gift stalls.

After buying a few things, we then went upstairs to where we could enter for our nosebleed seats. On this level there were more food and gift stalls as well as a photo booth to get a photo with your choice of a top-division wrestler—which, of course, we did.

Finally we entered the hall itself and I was surprised at how empty it still was, but by later in the afternoon when the higher division wrestlers began, the place was filled.

Though there is an option to rent a radio that announces everything in English, I actually enjoyed the fact I couldn’t understand what was being said and was able to just listen to the cadence of the announcer’s words. When the sponsor’s flags were marched around the ring I didn’t know that he was probably saying something along the lines of ‘This is brought to you by the dried soup sponsor…’ I got to hear it as melodic sounds and it was much more aesthetically pleasing.

The afternoon was filled with ancient history and modern-day sponsor flags. It was beyond interesting and so much fun watching and listening to everything: the announcements of the wrestlers names as they all entered at once, climbed up into the ring, circled it, then raised their arms and their ceremonial aprons; the wrestlers getting ready to fight; the men who came out before each bout to sing its announcement; the referee’s calls; the Shinto dances of the top champions; the excitement of the quick bouts; and the crowd calling out the names of their favorite superstar. Some of the wrestlers took longer to get ready to fight then the bout lasted. They would puff up their chests, and stomp and slap themselves, then throw out handfuls of salt to purify the ring, and the crowds would cheer their bravado. Sometimes they would do it multiple times, then face off, and a few minutes later one—sometimes both—would be on the ground and one declared a winner.

It was awesome and I’d go again in a minute. And that’s saying a lot from one who doesn’t much like sports.

Sumo

I understand the basic rules of sumo wrestling but I don’t get the nuances. I wish I did. Here in Tokyo, we are in the middle of two weeks of matches and they are being televised. I watched a few hours yesterday. Regardless that I don’t completely understand it, I’m hooked. Most of these guys are huge, with an added bonus that the bouts are short—which is perfect for people like me with short attention spans. It’s like watching Godzilla and Mothra in a fast knockdown.

The two wrestlers come out, step onto the raised platform and stand in their corners. They each toss salt onto the fighting area—which is to purify the ring—then squat, before stepping into the clay ring, which is surrounded by a circle of rope. Once in the ring, they again squat across from each other, then go to squat and crouch on each side of two lines with 1-2 feet separating them. In this area of separation, the referee stands—but adjacent, and out of their way.

The referee signals with a fan that they may begin but I never notice when it happens, because I’m so engrossed in watching the hulking wrestlers. While in the ring, squatted across from each other they may stand up, then squat back down a few times, perhaps stomp their feet once or twice, then squat back into a pre-fighting stance, and look at each other. Sometimes they lunge at each other right away or at other times one will jump up and walk away. What unseen message or look from one to the other causes the wrestlers while both posed in a pre-fight stance and staring at each other, to jump up and walk back to their corner, slap themselves on their butt or thighs, throw more salt into the air, glare at each other, then step back into the pre-wrestling stance? I don’t understand.

The loser is the first one to touch any part of his body to the floor, or to step outside the ring and the size of the wrestler doesn't seem to matter. It’s exciting to watch when the two hulks of flesh smash together. Sometimes it’s over quickly, while other times they just stand there pushing against each other for a minute or two. Suddenly, an extra shove or subtle change in the mathematical equation of their weight/mass/momentum causes one or the other to fall to the ground with a massive thud. Occasionally, one or both will go flying out of the ring and into the laps of the crowd below. I’m guessing that watching four-hundred pounds of flesh flying towards you would be a life-flashing-before-your-eyes kind of moment.

Though big, these men are nimble but they’ve got to have some massive bruises at the end of the night. A lot of the wrestlers come out to fight already covered with assorted bandages and wrappings on their feet, knees and legs from previous injuries. It’s a rough sport, especially when there’s so much weight behind each fall. Yesterday, one guy smacked his face on the ring and came up bleeding.

After each bout, the TV cameras then cut to the announcers talking about either past performances, or current, and they sometimes show old footage of past fights. One of the announcers was clearly an ex-wrestler and he very shyly and with a minimum of words added to the discussion about something, though I know not what. Once again, I wish I understood Japanese so I could understand what they were saying because I’m sure it was enlightening.

The sumo wrestlers intrigue me, too. They never smile even during post show interviews, and always maintain a look of quiet introspection. They’re the ultimate big, strong men of few words. And they are definitely comfortable with their bodies. I mean, to be able to go out there in front of so many people wearing only a loincloth when you weight over 400 pounds? You go, guys!

Next week we head for Ryogoku—the sumo district of Tokyo—to enjoy a day of matches! I hope to get a picture with one of the wrestlers to see how big they really are. Regardless, I’m really looking forward to it.