by Chris Bartlett
My only prior exposure to sumo was via a programme called Trans World Sport. Broadcast on British Channel 4 television, this weekly show gave me a glimpse of diverse sports from sumo to the annual Cheese Rolling Festival, in other words, sports not given much mainstream airtime. From this I garnered the basic rules of the sport, though little of the accompanying spectacle. And if it wasn�ft for the action preceding each contest, the sumo outing could�fve been accomplished in about half an hour. I�fd been to baseball and football games in Japan, but sumo was something quite different.
Upon arriving at Kokugikan station, we braved the rain to take our seats, way up in the rafters of the arena itself. One of the first things that struck me, apart from the initial emptiness of the stadium, was that it was built purely for sumo. (In 1909, so that sumo could occur in any weather.) Unlike many arenas, which serve for two or more sports, or double up as music venues, the Kokugikan is just for sumo bouts. From my high vantage point I looked down upon the serried ranks of zabutons, where spectators slowly filtered in to their sumo souvenir-adorned places. There were already fights going on, but these lower ranked rikishi received the barest minimum of attention, except if their fights lasted for more than twenty seconds. As the afternoon progressed, while the actual battles didn�ft last much longer, the pre-game build up definitely increased.
Perhaps the best part for me was at the beginning of each series of battles between East and West, the dohyo-iri. The respective teams filed in, circled the ring wearing elaborate coloured aprons, kesho mawashi, then waved and clapped before retiring. I admit to being somewhat oblivious to the symbolism, but it was an entertaining moment. (I later found out that they do this to show that they have no weapons and will fight fairly.) As we were sitting in the Eastern section, and later realising that Kanagawa is in the East of Japan, I sided with the Eastern team. My only caveat was to support the wrestler with the greater girth. With my limited experience of sumo, I felt a bit cheated when chaps came in who had less than imposing paunches. That didn�ft prove an infallible guide though, and I had no real scientific way of picking the winner. Perhaps the more experienced sumo-goers knew the wrestlers by name or reputation, but I was reduced to cheering for �ethe guy in the light blue fundushi�f or �ethe guy with the Elvis burns�f and so forth.
As the afternoon swept on, and I�fd finished my rather substantial sumo bento, more spectators took up their seats and zabutons for the big fights of the day, including the yokozuna himself. These consummate performers would spend a good while stretching their legs (shiko), crouching and facing each other down (sankyo), clapping in unison (chiri chozu), and throwing salt into the ring (kiyome-jio), before returning to their corner for more chikara mizu. When they started slapping themselves in the face, throwing a seriously big wad of salt, or playing to the crowd, then you knew it was finally time to rumble. Aside from a couple of early contests that lasted a long time, most bouts were decided in thirty seconds or less. Perhaps the best was an early fight when one of the combatants nearly lost his fundushi and the two guys had to stay locked in their grip while the referee (gyoji) helped him maintain his dignity.
So what to make of sumo? Judging from the comments of some of my Japanese colleagues, it is a sport in decline, watched only by a rich elite and foreigners. That definitely seemed the case as many non-Japanese faces all levels of the arena. Still, I�fm glad I got to experience the Kokugikan itself, with images of past champions staring down at me. Having sneaked a glimpse from the lower level, I was able to appreciate the size and strength of the sumo wrestlers themselves. As with any sport, it seems as though only the top tier get substantial benefit. This could be seen in the number of sponsors�f banners paraded before each bout. Some poor chaps had one, perhaps two, while the yokozuna had to wait a good couple of minutes while the plethora of banners circumnavigated the ring. One thing�fs for sure though, it�fs not like anything we�fve got in the UK, and I�fm glad I took the opportunity to attend. Could have had more cheese rolling though�c