This is the second part of Justin’s article about his experience at Kyokutaisei’s sumo training venue. For the earlier post, click here.

Suriashi and Psychological Warfare:

Next came suriashi or “sliding feet”.  The goal is to combine that low posture from the squats with forward movement, keeping feet close to the ground. You should almost slide forward on the rough sand rather than step. The goal is to improve balance, strength, stability, and (or course) proper footwork. Each of us had to take our turns moving from the tachi-ai stance across the dohyo where we met up with Kyokutaisei standing at the other side.

This is where he introduced a bit of mischief. He was directing us which way to go along the perimeter of the circle. However, he was pointing in one direction while turning his body and head in the other, almost daring us to follow the wrong signal.

Already suffering from some leg exhaustion, it was not easy to maintain concentration and some slight missteps ensued – producing some laughter in the heavy air of the sumo ring. Still, it brought home an important lesson: sumo requires attention and discipline even during the most basic movements.

My son vs. Physics

My son is working on his undergraduate degree in Astrophysics. He knows the theory and loves math and explaining the fundamental rules that govern nature. He arrived with the equations. Kyokutaisei came with empirical evidence.

We had reached the part of the morning training called butsukari-geiko. This is where we had to charge forward from one end of the ring right into the chest of our opponent. They would receive the impact, and we would attempt to push them back to the other end of the ring and out. Of course, they did not make it easy. Our goal was to show our “explosive power” from the tachiai, our endurance and fighting spirit, and proper technique and footwork. 

My son considered this an exercise in “a supposedly unstoppable force against an immovable object”.  Of course, our force was not really that “unstoppable”. But his description was not far from the truth. First off, there is a bit of hesitation to collide with somebody and bury your face right into their chest. Be it sweat or timidity, you must quickly overcome it. Otherwise, you will not generate any forward power or momentum. And really, there is no substitute for this experience. We got to throw ourselves up against someone who had spent years training to resist this kind of forward onslaught. These retired rikishi still had the innate ability to lower their center of gravity and become that immovable object.

The exercise provided a tiny glimpse into what lower-ranked wrestlers experience daily: absorbing charge after charge while developing technique, toughness, and endurance. I now was feeling a lot more respect for the daily routines of my heroes in the ring. My feet were scratched, my knuckles bleeding from scraping the ground. Sweat pouring from my brow. My respect for those who have chosen this lifestyle was growing by the second.

I will take a brief timeout to mention that their staff took all these pictures and videos while we were training and enjoying the experience. Thus, we were not tethered to our cameras the entire time. Furthermore, they provided an interpreter. To be fair, I handled almost all the conversations in my rusty Japanese. However, if you did not learn Japanese from drunken old men in an izakaya 30-years ago, you can still fully enjoy the experience and get everything explained in English. Do not let any language barrier stop you from enjoying. Really, how many people around the world get to say they wore a mawashi, did morning training exercises and took sumo against real former top division rikishi?

They took each of us aside and gave us some instructions on technique. My son was given lessons in tsuki-oshi (aiming high chest and neck until you have the opponent at the edge of the ring and bending backwards, then go low towards the belly to finish them off). My wife was given hatakikomi (looking for the opponent to be low or off balance and slapping them down). To me, they gave uwatenage. I was told to keep my head in their chest, lower my center of gravity, and pivot using my hips to generate power while turning my entire body into the throw). Now, I do have some ancient jūdō background (I got a black belt from the Kōdōkan jūdō association in 1995). I was hoping to have some sort of muscle memory.

Speaking of that… Are We Actually Fighting?

Then we moved on to matches.

Let me preface all this by saying that my family and I are not fighters. While my son is captain of his university’s foil fencing team, we are not really into contact sports. I only got the black belt 30 years ago because the Master of the izakaya was 6^th degree and an elite teacher. There is no way I would have passed the exam, except for a secret technique he taught me the night before the test. That is a story for another time.

For a sumo fan, there are some moments that can bring an oversized amount of joy – such as performing the rituals you only ever watched from the stands. I was there, in the ring, and completed the chiri-chōzu – without a mistake. This earned the respect of the coaches. The movements are simple enough, but surprisingly more difficult to remember when you are confronting a rikishi. Doing the chiri-chōzu made me feel, just for a moment, a part of the long history and tradition of sumo. I consider my flawless performance a personal “kinboshi” of a sort. And now, here we were. Suddenly crouching at the shikiri-sen, preparing for tachiai against former professional wrestlers.

There is no going back now! Unlike the Sumo and Sushi experience, I am wearing a mawashi. I am going to have a proper tachiai. A real collision.

This was it!  This is a real sumo challenge. It was not easy for 50-something, non-athletic, scrawny guy to go up against even former Hakuyō (the referee in the pic). Let alone a former top division wrestler! So, they let us have some fun against them. The funniest moment came during my wife’s very first match. She is a fast learner. Drawing on my “technique” from the Sumo and Sushi match, she opened with a spectacular nekodamashi.

Kyokutaisei froze for a split second, and before anyone could process what had happened, she had pushed him back and secured a quick victory.

The room erupted in laughter. Everyone recognized that she was also, apparently, a long-time fan to be able pull off such a move. I was told “your wife must definitely be watching some sumo with you, after all!” Among all the things I expected to witness that afternoon, my wife winning a bout with a trick was not one of them.

We had matchups against Kyokutaisei and Hakuyō. Photos would not do justice for my son’s match against Kyokutaisei. My son charged forward and collided with him with such speed that Kyokutaisei sidestepped, expecting my son to defeat himself and go out of the ring with his own forward momentum. As Kyokutaisei deftly moved out of the way, my son headed straight to the tawara with enough speed to carry him right out. But somehow, he slammed on the breaks at exactly the right moment, stopping himself at the very last opportunity.

Older folks like me would have easily stepped out. My son, however, immediately regained his balance, turned and re-engaged. That tenacity, him not giving up on the bout after nearly losing it, must serve him well in fencing, too! It is something I had not witnessed in him before. This real fighting spirit and tenacity to win. This match was far from over. My son re-engaged a second time and the same thing happened again.  His attack was wild and frenzied and almost carried him out of the ring, such that Kyoktaisei stopped fighting and just stood there. 

Big mistake. He was caught off guard by my son’s third engagement and was now on the edge himself. My son, with his feet still moving and his momentum now aimed correctly at a target on the edge of the ring completed a textbook oshidashi!  Photos could not capture these recoveries, the persistence, and my son’s determination that the bout would not be over until he won!  Congrats were seriously in order.

My wife was back, literally. Jumping on the back of Hakuyō attempting to pull off a hataki-komi.

I will never forget her jumping on the back of a sumo wrestler.  One of the funniest things I have witnessed.

Wearing a Keishō Mawashi

After our good workout, they were kind enough to take their photos with the family. First, all in our regular mawashi:

Then we had a chance to wear a keishō mawashi. A keishō is much more than decorative, it is a rikishi’s expression of identity, gratitude, sponsorship, education, tradition, and status. Only sekitori are allowed to wear them during the ring-entering ceremony, and it can signify reaching professional status and financial independence in sumo. In the Middle Ages, only the knights could have a coat of arms or heraldic banner. This is the sumo equivalent. For any sumo fan, it is a memorable and humbling moment to be given permission to don this attire.

The apron is surprisingly heavy. The connection to the wrestlers is the real treasure and turned out to be our best souvenir. In this case, we were literally wearing culture, not just observing it.

Conclusion: Sumo is more than a sport

This experience was a rare chance to interact directly with people who devoted their lives to this singular pursuit. I came expecting to sample sumo and share it with my family. We left with a better understanding of the daily lives and dedication of the wrestlers. We left with a better understanding of the spiritual side of the sport and felt a connection to the centuries of tradition and Shinto practice.

When we were reflecting on the experience later that evening, my wife and I came to a realization. We are not fighters. We are not violent people. Yet, in the ring, we were colliding full force with people we just met, holding them by the throat (nodowa), and pushing/slapping at them. We are just in a fight. Not an angry or violent fight intended to hurt someone, but a real physical contest that pushed us out of our comfort zones and to our physical limits.

Many visitors will come thinking they will observe a cultural activity, but the experience with Kyokutaisei is much more than that. You learn through experience. You push yourself more than you know, and your legs will hate you very much walking up and down all those Tokyo steps in the metro for the next few days.

Throughout the session you will also notice subtle reminders that these men had paid a high price for their careers. You notice the old injuries, the surgical scars, the lingering evidence of pushing their bodies to the limits. Their sacrifices for the sport are visible in ways not easily caught on camera.

We came to the understanding that these exercises are merely the beginning. First, a new entrant has to survive the training routine, then climb into the ring against someone twice your size, and then do it again tomorrow and the day after, and the day after that. This experience reminded me that underneath all of the glory of rankings, championships, and intrigue each bashō, there lies something much deeper: discipline, dedication, sacrifice, and a sense of community. If only an hour and a half of training left my legs shaking for the rest of the day, I can scarcely imagine the commitment required to make that life your own.

I would like to take the last words to express how grateful my family is to Kyokutaisei, Hakuyō, and Kyokuhikari. The other side of the violent, combat sport world coin is a calm kindness. Each of them was entirely patient with us, curious to know why and how foreigners came to know so much about sumo, and happy to note (with some pride) how we were all enjoying the experience. They helped us with the mawashi, gave us clear instructions, answered all our questions, and were glad to share their stories and their connections to the sumo world with us. We could not have chosen better guides to help us take those important steps into the culture and world of a sumo wrestler.

Thank you for reading. I plan on some article about viewing Tatsunami-beya’s morning practice a few days later.  And with a much greater appreciation for what we were to see there.  Look for it in the next few days.  If there is interest, I am considering an article about the Japan trip and our itinerary – for those who may be curious about what someone with some Japan experience 30 years ago recommended for his own family.