A pair of rikishi battle in a sumo contest.
In July last year, I finally had a chance to experience Japanese sumo-wrestling first-hand.
Not in the ring, mind you (that would be mental), but as a spectator. The venue would be in Nagoya (which I raved about in my blog post here), and I would be travelling with my good friends and fellow Kagawa JETs Jasper, Arran and Chaz. As Jasper would imminently be leaving Japan at the end of July, he was keen to see as much "culture" as possible, and sumo was definitely on that list.
Wrestlers perform a small ceremony in preparation of a bout.
Two rikishi square off.
Two rikishi square off.
We would be watching the Nagoya Basho tournament, one of six honbasho professional sumo tournaments held annually. The honbasho differ from exhibition tournaments in that these are the only tournaments which count in terms of official rankings. Honbasho are fifteen days long, and we would be arriving on the first day at the start of the tournament for a full day of watching sumo.
However, all was not quite well. Whilst travelling down on the night bus with Arran and Jasper the evening prior, I was shocked to discover that I'd left my ticket at home, as I'd been using it as a bookmark in a book which I had forgotten to pack. I was more than a little anxious. Jasper did his best to reassure me; Chaz would be arriving the next day, whose Japanese was far beyond our own abilities. Jasper had the receipt for four tickets, and we'd be arriving with three out of four of them. Surely it wouldn't be a problem?
Fingers crossed.
Chaz snipes some shots from the sides.
After arriving in the early morning and going for a brief stroll through local shrines and temples (and Family Mart for breakfast, naturally), we made our way to the sumo arena in time for the beginning of the tournament. As Chaz had not yet arrived, I opted to wait outside so he could help explain the ticketing fiasco with me, rather than attempt to clumsily explain my lack of a ticket and simply be rejected. Arran and Jasper went in ahead of me while I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World on my iPad (just as well I'd downloaded it the evening before, I reckon). Chaz arrived within around an hour, and after calling in the lads inside, the four of us explained the situation and I was provided with a replacement ticket with minimal hassle. I have to say kudos to Chaz, who communicated our situation effortlessly. Without competent language abilities, I doubt I would have been able to have made it in (a motivation to continue studying Japanese if ever there was one).
The lads at the sumo.
Sake and sumo. Nice.
Sake and sumo. Nice.
I couldn't help but marvel a little at seeing rikishi (sumo wrestlers) for the first time in real life. These unique athletes were somewhat mythological to me at this point - so embedded in the iconography of Japan but also with a rarity and mysterious allure. Watching the initial sumo bouts unfold felt a bit like being in the uncanny valley. The sensation passed, however, and it wasn't long before I was enjoying opening of the tournament with a wide grin on my face.
A group of rikishi in preparation for the afternoon bouts.
Jasper tries to blend in.
After a brief exit for lunch, we witnessed a parade of rikishi walking by, adored by a league of fans.We stepped inside and witnessed a spectacular change. Where previously the stadium had been fairly empty, it had drastically filled, now bursting at the seams almost without enough seats to cater for everyone. It was quite literally packed. We fought our way back to our seats (with another bottle of sake in tow), and soaked up the atmosphere (and, of course, the alcohol).
The full arena, now packed.
Grappling for glory.
Sumo matches themselves proved to be a very unique spectacle. The match is preceded by a lengthy ceremony which encompasses many Shinto elements. The rikishi throw salt over their shoulders and try to intimidate each other with posturing, with salt used for purification. The grappling itself is over rather quickly, with the two opponents normally finishing a match within around ten seconds or so. The thrill, for me at least, is partially in the speed. After so much build-up, witnessing two opponents charge at one another with such speed and intent is really quite a spectacle.
In recent years, sumo has become a much more international sport with many overseas competitors, primarily from other Asian nations. It's interesting to see a sport so closely tied to Japanese identity and culture opening it's borders to foreign participation. While the sport is intrinsically Japanese, it is gratifying to know it is not embedded with nationalism and has developed along with the country's move to globalization.
A sleepy Jasper catches up on lost hours prior to another night bus.
While I wasn't aware of what the overall matches meant in terms of league table or overall importance to the tournament, these rounds themselves were mesmerizing. If you happen to be in Japan during a sumo tournament, make a point of tracking down some tickets. You'll be wrestling with regret if you fail to do so.
