Ryogoku Sumo | Mike Grist

Sumo is the traditional Japanese sport, beloved of retirees and tourists alike. On any tournament day at the Kokugikan in Ryogoku you can see them lining up for tickets at the single ticket box; the old folks nose-deep in their rikishi listings, the tourists in their guidebooks, coming up for air every now and then wide-eyed with anticipation, wondering if something awesome is happening around them, secretly hoping to see something as cool as Edmond Honda’s hundred-hand slap or torpedo head-butt.

Well, I can dis-abuse them of that hope. To the sumo novitiate without 15 days to kill watching hundreds ofÂ fat men shove each other around a ring, sumo is about as dull as watching bugs fly into an insectocutor- a sharp surprise for the first few, a puff of steam, then the same again and again until all the bugs are dead.

Sumo Royal Rumble.

Let’s be clear though- I’m not down on sumo. I respect it now more than ever. I accept that the ‘fat guys’ are actually athletes stacked with muscle, skilled and highly trained in their unique form of ritualized combat. I can watch a bout and enjoy the sudden explosive violence, the intense torsion of two giants bracing their full mass and force against each other, the heartbeat difference between a slight wrong move and victory.

All that aside- to the casual observer- sumo is just dull.

Slim Sumo fighting on the walls of the Kokugikan.

Sumo is dull like cricket is dull. Can you imagine sitting down and watching cricket for just a few hours, or even just a day, and getting much out of it? You’d only get to see one team bat, and possibly only a few players at that. You wouldn’t get theÂ scope of the game, nor would you be able to appreciate the true nature of the marathon-like competition of Test Match cricket, up to 5 matches each lasting up to 5 days.

Sumo is like that.

Outside the Kokugikan- old people and Australian tourists (in town for the Rugby) wait for tickets.

Think about football/soccer. One game lasts 90 minutes. Even within the superstructure of a tournament like the World Cup, you can sit down and watch one game and get involved in the narrative. 2 teams battle each other for the duration, there are ups and downs, and at the end a victor. A closer example would be boxing- with one bout lasting up to 12 rounds of 3 minutes each- with a narrative between the two men that you can easily follow and understand.

A sumo in traditional dress (mandated) carries his lunch to work.

Compare that to the structure and nature of a sumo tournament. 15 days, 100’s of sumo in a grand knockout competition, every sumo fighting once a day only (though lower ranks fight once every two days), each match lasting on average only about 5 seconds. There is no narrative within one day. No trends, no ups and downs, no story to follow. The only narrative is across the 15 days, as the victors continue to win, and each of their subsequent matches become charged with the tension of potential loss at this stage, potential acquisition of a 15-0 record and the position of yokozuna.

It really is a marathon, not a sprint, and generally speaking marathons are not spectator sports- and if they are it’s only with the highlights on TV, a few representative shots of runners, and the finish line.

Inside the kokugikan- the dohyo (ring) awaits.

People line the route of the Tour de France not to see any exciting action happen on their watch, but just to be close to the phenomenon for a short time. It’s like that with sumo- certainly for casual viewers. Get in, see your first few explosive fights, the atmosphere is charged, then very quickly it’s just more of the same.

2 new guys come on, stamp around, fight and finish in about 5 seconds.

Again, again.

Ready for combat.

So- I’m not attacking sumo. I’m just saying- it’s a marathon, that requires a marathon mind-set to fully enjoy as a spectator.

This sumo event however was different- a one day special exhibition of some regular sumo, comedy sumo, and singing sumo, with interviews of top sumo folks- organized by NHK. I went along with Su Young- who had never seen sumo before.

Beating a drum before the fighting begins.
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Circled around, the sumo sing to get warmed up for fighting.
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A little guy purifies the ring (lays the sand?) with water.
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A guy using a fan as a microphone to announce the names of the battling sumo.
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Kimono-clad referees over-see the action.

I’ve been to see sumo before- maybe 4 years ago, with enough people that we decided to get our own box. It was decidedly uncomfortable, sitting on tatami mats with no space tpo stretch out and nothing to lean against- and we compounded that mistake by going mid-afternoon, when the lower rikishi are still battling in their lower leagues. The big guns only fight at the end of the day, around 6pm. I imagine we left before then.

Tussling for the toss-out. Sumo is won by forcing the opponent either out of the ring, or to touch the ground with any part of the body other than the feet.
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Squatting to fight. Sumo squat behind their lines, lay their fists on the dirt before them, and when both sumo have laid both fists down, they go at it.
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Before that though there is generally some stretching and tossing of salt (to purify the ring, give better grip).

How a man stretches.

Skinny white guy fights valiantly, loses. He got big cheers for effort though.
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Going for the under-grab.
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Over the top.
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Prepping for a fireball.
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Ha–dou-ken!
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Stay down!

After an hour or so of exhibition matches- after 20 minutes or so of which the two Australians sitting next to us left- they had some speeches, then started in on comedy, which I loved.