Author: Josh K

Kirishima and the Sliding Doors Moment

Josh K Kirishima, Kotonowaka, Terunofuji (照ノ富士), Tobizaru, Yokozuna (横綱)
Let’s just hope he doesn’t start selling new age accessories on his online shop

Well, that was an unbelievable basho, in a lot of ways. It had everything, including some incredible individual moments and performances. It had the best guys in the sport putting up the biggest wins and the best results, it had both the predictable and the unpredictable. Probably the only real regrettable things about the basho were that Asanoyama and (predictably) Takayasu’s fitness couldn’t sustain themselves for 15 days. Asanoyama is otherwise in the yusho race or at least putting up a score that vaults him to the top of the rank-and-file.

Two of my other top moments were scenes you could just telegraph: Terunofuji reading Onosho’s tachiai perfectly to showcase his ability to win with the minimum of hit points to his beleaguered physique, and Hoshoryu’s perfect read of Takanosho’s in-and-under-the-arms tachiai into what has become his signature throw. Kirishima of course was involved in two of the most significant bouts of the tournament, against the other top dogs.

Sumo has a lot of these “Sliding Doors” moments, incredible victories that signal a turn in results or that have an impact on the banzuke or a rikishi’s career well into the future. Moments that could have well gone another way. These incidents are normally forgotten. In sumo, it’s not really about what almost happened, it either happened or it didn’t. You get no points for “almost.”

Heading into senshuraku, there was an altogether other set of events that could have occurred and profoundly altered the future of sumo in 2024 (and beyond) as we know it. But neither match broke in the direction that was required: Kotonowaka knocked off a stubborn Tobizaru to deal the flying monkey his makekoshi, clinching Kotonowaka his Ozeki promotion and – at least – a trip to the yusho playoff. Terunofuji, of course, won against the Ozeki Kirishima in dominant fashion to clinch his own playoff spot.

Kirishima entered the final day one off the pace, at 11-3. A win and a 12-3 record would not ordinarily be the kind of result that would set the weavers in motion, but had these results broken the other way, it would have landed him in a three way yusho playoff and with the chance to seal a second consecutive yusho (and third overall) which would have certainly established an overwhelming claim to promote him to the sport’s highest rank.

After all, Terunofuji entered this basho following a run of seven kyujo from his previous eight tournaments, and with increasing speculation as to his long term future in the sport. Most observers – including the NHK Sumo Preview team – didn’t seem to place much faith in him still being in the sport at year’s end, and with Terunofuji’s shisho set to step down in 2025 (upon reaching mandatory retirement age, presumably leaving the heya in the Yokozuna’s care after Ajigawa-beya’s recent branch-out), it is likely that there will be a need for a new Yokozuna sooner than later. It’s possible that a Kirishima defeat of the Yokozuna and his presence in a playoff (win or lose, but probably contingent on a win) might have been enough to see the Michinoku-beya man promoted and the long term future of the rank secured.

However, for that to have happened, Kirishima would also have needed Tobizaru to have secured kachi-koshi against Kotonowaka. While the feisty underdog put forward a spirited challenge, the Sadogatake man-mountain was simply immovable.

In the end, of course, Kirishima’s 11-4 restarts his challenge. But, it certainly is the best performance we’ve seen from a yusho-winning Ozeki under the circumstances since Terunofuji’s own yokozuna promotion. It is difficult to say that Kirishima didn’t take the challenge all the way to the death, although he is doubtlessly counting the cost of losses to Midorifuji and Tobizaru, which in the end are the reason why his promotion challenge was so cruelly undermined.

A reversal of Tobizaru’s fortunes wouldn’t have done much for his own standing in Osaka, but Kotonowaka would have been sitting on a less attractive 32 wins from the previous three basho. While there is no de facto standard for Ozeki promotion, it can be argued that the Kyokai might have asked for another strong tournament in light of the fact he’d only need to upgrade on the 9 wins in the tournament at the beginning of the run. As is, the 9-11-13 nature of improvement, all at the Sekiwake rank, and taking the Yokozuna literally to the edge (in a playoff that was in fact closer than it might have looked), was enough to get the job done.

While Kotonowaka will fight at least one more basho under the ring name of his father and shisho (before presumably succeeding to the vaunted name of his grandfather Kotozakura), the future propects of another man carrying the weight of his shisho’s shikona are less certain. Kirishima will again enter the Haru basho as one of the favourites, but now on level standing with three other Ozeki who will all have hopes of fulfilling the criteria to become the 74th Yokozuna this year.

The upcoming Haru basho will be the final basho to take place with the current iteration of Michinoku beya intact, and Kirishima will not have be able to make the step up to the sumo’s ultimate rank before his stablemaster reaches retirement age: had the fates aligned differently, Kirishima II would have reached Yokozuna in Kirishima I’s final basho as head of Michinoku beya. If the Ozeki ever does make it, it will be under yet-to-be determined leadership at a different heya (presumably, one of the five other heya within the ichimon) at some point in the future.

Looking forward, Takakeisho will be looking for a repeat of his fourth yusho, which also took place in a basho he entered kadoban following a kyujo withdrawal from the previous tournament. Hoshoryu will have correctly decided that his late injury withdrawal from Hatsu will give him better chance to fully recover and challenge for honours in March. And Kotonowaka will want to prove worthy of the Kotozakura name. It will not be easy for Kirishima.

Going forward, we won’t think about another future that might have been possible. Takakeisho himself has had multiple near-misses over the years, but going into senshuraku a different future was very much in play. Instead, Kirishima’s 11-4 record is all that, more likely that not, will barely be remembered about this tournament. What might have been won’t matter when the next basho begins. This was a basho where Kotonowaka punched his ticket to the big time and Terunofuji let us all know he was still the man to beat. Everything else is just a subtext for those of us desperately seeking narrative in this mad world of sumo. And for that, let’s hope the next affair at the EDION Arena can match the outstanding tournament just gone.

Tachiai Returns to Fukuoka: Live Basho Report

Josh K Aki Basho 2022 , , ,

Hi sumo fans, it’s been a minute, but I’m happy to return with an on-the-ground report from the latest basho. If you’re new here, I’ve done quite a few of these over the years (click my name or the tags or something), but not so many recently, because some stuff happened in the world. But now we’re doing them again! Let us rejoice.

This was my first basho since March in Osaka, except for an intai-zumo event in-between, which doesn’t really count. One thing you don’t appreciate from watching this basho in particular on TV is that the Kokusai Center feels so much smaller than even Osaka or Nagoya, nevermind Kokugikan. So, in that sense, the Kyushu basho is the most intimate basho with the best views of the dohyo, although there are other tradeoffs. If you’re a viewing purist who wants the best possible viewing angles to watch sumo, then this is your venue.

As I had to rush in and out of Fukuoka owing to work commitments, I allowed myself the small luxury of a two person box to myself. I’ve been in 4 person boxes in Tokyo which weren’t much bigger. It was nice to relax and stretch out, which isn’t something you normally associate with the sumo experience. One downside of course is constantly having to put your shoes on and off whenever you leave the box, so slip-on shoes are advised.

The sellout banners were down, but how that’s possible I will never know. If you can dream it you can do it for sure, but niceties aren’t quite enough to make me believe that a half-empty arena is actually sold out. There was a huge proportion of empty seats, although judging by how many foreigners – and potentially Tachiai readers? – were in attendance, I’m assuming BuySumoTickets.com were responsible for a good percentage of those who were there. I was specifically shocked by how many foreigners were in attendance before noon (and how many that left during the 5pm news break). Anyway, Fukuoka probably has the best selection of seats of any basho: they have a small selection of arena chairs that provide good value for money. This is augmented by the Kokusai Center’s unique “Pairs Seat” which is a box-like seat, but at a bench and with a fixed table.

The macaron shall be golden!

If you’re someone who values other parts of the sumo fan experience that don’t involve what’s happening on the dohyo, you’ll want to also know that in Fukuoka, merch and food sales are also scaled way down. There aren’t a lot of snacks, for example, so if you are going later in the tournament I would suggest to bring your own. There are a handful of bento options, and they will sell out.

However, Fukuoka’s signature food trucks (aka, literally in Japanese, “kitchen car”) were back at the basho and dishing out various meals. I’m not sure whether you’ll be able to bring those food truck meals inside, almost certainly not the chanko. The food trucks are unquestionably the most unique part of the whole Fukuoka operation, as it means there’s a greater diversity of food in Fukuoka than at any other basho (apart from possibly Kokugikan), although there seemed to be a couple fewer trucks than there used to be before the pandemic. For those keeping score, the chanko on offer went for 700 yen (more than I’ve paid at any other basho), and was of the shio variety.

The Kyokai has made a couple crucial additions to the Kyushu basho experience though: there is a tented area where they host a “talk show” at 1pm (the guests on the day of my visit were former Tenkaiho and former Toyohibiki), as well as carnival games. I’d be curious to see whether these reappear at other tournaments.

If you thought the shooting gallery and ring toss type events would be tailor made for a carnival barker like former Asahisho, then you would be right, as he was running these stalls. I was encouraged by a couple excitable punters/super-fans to give it a go. The shooting gallery consists of a number of curry and chanko gift boxes you have to knock over from about 6 feet with a plastic dart gun. 500 yen gets you five shots, and it’s a good way for the kyokai to offload old merch. Each target hit gives you more prizes, ranging from old programs to toilet paper rolls and tote bags. I knocked down 3 of 5 targets for the bog roll but the real prize was a photo with Kiriyama-san himself.

Atmosphere wise, I would call Kyushu the relaxed basho. The dohyo-iri was good fun, Fukuoka isn’t a particularly raucous crowd but it was good to see beleaguered rikishi like Shodai and Kotoeko get a clap. Not that I’d ever be the guy not to clap a rikishi but the upper division really does have a lot of names worth cheering for these days. Ura’s cherry-blossom-pink-fringed kesho-mawashi (the other rank and filers have mostly white or gold) is really something. It does stink to go to a basho that doesn’t have a Yokozuna dohyo-iri though, you just really miss something special of the sumo experience.

I was a little let down by the torikumi on the day, as there wasn’t a lot of stuff in the undercard that I felt was “must watch.” I think this is a byproduct of many of the recent top prospects reaching the cusp of, if not the top division.

As for the Juryo guys, Shishi looks to have stepped up a bit. I didn’t get the feeling he has the most street smarts in the ring, so I had circled his bout against the wily Chiyoshoma as one to watch, but it ended up being fairly straightforward for the Ukrainian. Onosato, meanwhile, needed a torinaoshi to get past Daishoho. Undoubtedly Onosato will develop but I think that the anticipated monster prospect of mass destruction has not totally materialised. He may go on and zensho and get promoted and make me look foolish, but I think he may have a more gradual ascent even to the top division.

What else? Akua, as usual, provided the most drama televised or otherwise, winning, knocking out a shimpan, causing an opponent to require the big wheelchair and of course his recently developed ritual big salt throw, which I would say is not quite as impressive as Terutsuyoshi’s. Hopefully Hitoshi is ok. His injury made me recall that I’ve been at quite a few matches where a rikishi has been seriously injured (Ura, Takayasu, Hokutofuji, etc.) or pushed into retirement (Kisenosato), so I must be the bringer of doom.

The top division needed something to hold the almost half empty arena to life and fortunately Tamawashi provided it with a thunderous eviction of Tsurugisho, care of a vicious nodowa. A couple bouts later, the place took the volume up higher as local favourite Sadanoumi took out Oho in a see-saw battle, before Kotoeko despatched Hiradoumi (and nearly the gyoji) in a spirited Kyushu derby.

I hope Mitakeumi is ok, his knees completely gave out on the edge of the dohyo in losing to Atamifuji and I wouldn’t be surprised to see him go kyujo later. That match felt very much like a changing of the guard, it’s very rare to see anyone have a crowd that’s louder than Mitakeumi’s audience but Atamifuji’s burgeoning stardom meant the crowd – including the ladies waving a newly-bought cheer towel in the next box – was very much behind the younger man. Mitakeumi will be 31 next month and just doesn’t appear to have the strength that he used to have.

Endo, meanwhile, still has a very comfortable number of brand partners getting behind his matches, no shortage of kensho, and the crowd was completely behind him against Hokuseiho who – for some reason – doesn’t seem to be able to capture the fans’ imaginations. That may be due to his sumo style (which admittedly is not always enthralling) or other non-sumo matters.

Hokutofuji vs Tobizaru with Konosuke on the call was the kind of fantasy match you’d draw up, although we didn’t get quite the duration of antics I might have hoped for. From there, pretty much all of the top matchups were absolute bangers. I actually found it hard to pick a rikishi to cheer, because in many cases I liked them both.

By the way, Gonoyama is for real! He went all the way, twice, with Daieisho. It looked in the arena without the benefit of TV that he lost twice, but he ran Daieisho really close. To me he looks like a sanyaku regular, and probably will be by this time next year.

I love the bits you’ll never see on TV, like the old man doing shiko at the top of the arena along with his hero as as a local favourite enters the ring. Or how the young lady taking photos calmly for six hours becomes overwhelmed with emotion when her favourite rikishi Shodai inevitably hits the deck. Or the flower arrangement accompanying the poem that has been placed as an art installation (seen above) near the front of the venue.

All of these things go into the culture of sumo, and while you don’t get any slow motion replays, you do get a lot more. Those are the moments that make me come so far and come back again and again and again once again. See you all next time.

Ichinojo: A Curious Intai

Josh K Ichinojo (逸ノ城)

Sometimes you get news in your life that makes you gasp audibly. I am sure if you are reading this, you have had a moment like that. Maybe it was something you saw on the news, or that you heard from a family member. I am not too proud to admit that I had that kind of reaction upon hearing of the shock retirement of Ichinojo.

Ichinojo is – or was – not a rikishi for whom there is a universal opinion. He performed his entire career – even after winning a yusho – in a constant state of “the jury’s still out.” He prompted us – and I need to give Bruce credit here – to often ask: “is big a strategy?” But, at the same time, we all knew that somewhere in there, inside of whatever you called him… boulder, behemoth, bridge abutment… there was a hell of a technically proficient sekitori.

I don’t often intend to set out to write something on sumo topics just for the sake of it – and Andy, blessedly, was on the spot to cover the news when it broke. But I just have this feeling about Ichinojo’s retirement that I haven’t had about other recent intai – even Ikioi’s, who was my favourite rikishi and whose haircut I will attend in a few weeks.

Most retirements are easy to analyse. Maybe the rikishi was old, fighting at a diminished capacity, or in danger of tumbling out the salaried ranks. We see that a few times a year these days. Maybe it’s a Yokozuna who can no longer perform at the required level, due to age or injury. Maybe it’s a bright talent like a Yutakayama who calls it quits because injuries have blighted his career to the extent that he may or may not achieve the type of ceiling he might have hoped, and wants to have a healthy “second life.”

Ichinojo, to be sure, had his injury problems. But, especially with rest, he was still a top, top performer on his good days. That was always part of the issue with Ichinojo, the feeling that he was just wasn’t dialled in all the time, or that he wasn’t motivated to make it to the highest level, or that he didn’t know how to manage his body to keep himself consistently on the dohyo.

This past year, however, has seen some of the best sumo of his career. His age 29 year brought his first makuuchi yusho in which he racked up an incredible 9th kinboshi (while his mentals were often questioned, he was known to always rouse himself for the bouts with big kensho stacks on the line). Following a suspension for off-dohyo alcohol-related behaviour, he stormed back in the most recent basho to claim a near-perfect yusho in Juryo and clinch a return to makuuchi, upstaging the higher ranked former Ozeki Asanoyama’s own redemption arc.

In one respect you can say that, with a yusho and a stunning kinboshi tally banked, the man’s potential was achieved. On the other, the current up-for-grabs state of the sumo world means the final counting stats for Ichinojo could have yet been greater. In a world where sports analysis is increasingly mobilised to be black-and-white, we need to acknowledge that Ichinojo’s career lived in the grey space in between. It is possible to applaud his career-end achievements while also lamenting what could have yet been.

No one doubts that injuries have taken their toll on the man, but it’s hard therefore to believe that, coming off the back of one of his most convincing basho (albeit at the second level and facing only two top division opponents), they were what definitively caused his intai. One suspects a more full version of the truth will emerge over the long run.

It’s also difficult to reconcile the lurid tabloid reports of his bar room antics with the gentle giant who we have come to see, or the reputation he’s had as a loner in the sport, even among his compatriots. Perhaps this won’t have been helped by difficult relations with his shisho. But unless we know for sure, all we can do is speculate.

For many followers of the sport, the reporting of his extra curricular activities was surprising because he had long been associated with the term “gentle giant.” One of our last memories of the man in the ring will have been his enduring sportsmanship, especially in holding Takakeisho from falling off the dohyo in a bout where it seemed the Ozeki had suffered a head/neck injury.

Of course, Ichinojo entered makuuchi as a zanbari-clad prospect of unbelievable potential. But nine years on, much of that potential was actually still there. Having claimed that first yusho, and in a period lacking reliable Yokozuna and Ozeki, he certainly would have been primed for more success. He didn’t seem cooked, and that’s part of what makes it feel off. This isn’t like Aminishiki retiring, this feels like we might still have missed out on something good. Intai moments are rarely satisfying, this one particularly not so.

It’s not a massive surprise that he won’t enter the kyokai. He appeared to be a very unlikely leader, and with Minato-oyakata still a decade from mandatory retirement (by which point Ichinojo would be 40), the stable won’t be needing someone to inherit it anytime soon.

I don’t know much of Ichinojo the man, but over time I became a fan of Ichinojo the rikishi. As fans, I hope we can know someday what really led to his exodus from the sumo world. As people, I hope we can all agree to wish him the best whatever those reasons were, as he navigates at a younger age than most, his new life.

The Updated Haru Basho Experience

Josh K Haru Basho 2023, Ura (宇良) , ,

I’ve long been open about the fact that I view the Osaka honbasho as one of the more definitive sumo experiences. While the hallowed ground of the Kokugikan in Ryogoku is the ultimate destination for any pilgrim seeking dosukoi action, the EDION Arena in Osaka in some ways showcases the most romantic elements of sumo. Or at least it did.

Before the pandemic, the Osaka tournament was notable for many things. Among them, the raucous nature of the Kansai match-going fanbase, and also the proximity of spectators to the rikishi as they emerge from the shitakubeya and make their way down the hanamichi to the side of the dohyo.

This last feature was also a staple of the year-end Kyushu basho in Fukuoka, but the EDION Arena’s layout had long been unique for the fact that souvenir shoppers in the hallways would likely end up intoxicated from the scent of binzuke as combatants of all shapes and sizes made their way to and from the arena throughout the day. It was not uncommon for fans to mix it with rikishi or even get handshakes, autographs or photos with sekitori at the business end of the torikumi.

And speaking of intoxication, before the edict to “cheer inside of your heart” went into place as a mitigating strategy in the fight against the spread of the coronavirus, you’d often find dyed-in-the-wool (or dyed-in-the-cotton-cheer-towel) supporters of a particular rikishi or heya screaming out messages of support or instruction to “GANBATTE!” for hours on end from the pacy schedule of Sandanme right through to the lengthy rituals leading up to a top division bout.

Before the basho, I remarked on these pages that I had some trepidation for what I might find. Osaka has always been my favourite basho. Maybe it lacks of a bit of depth compared to the three Tokyo tournaments in terms of the fan experience that you can find inside the venue itself. But the personality, feeling and emotion of the basho – never more showcased than when a Kansai native mounts the dohyo in front of a full house, lights and cameras – for me is more than worth the annual pilgrimage. I had ringed the first week of the tournament on the calendar ever since Japan announced its reopening to foreign visitors, and could not wait to reintroduce it as a staple of my travel calendar.

So, what did we find?

A bit of a mixed bag, truth be told, but it was mostly a return to the experience I knew and loved. Some elements were missing, while others improved on my past memories.

First let’s talk logistics. I flew directly into Osaka’s Kansai International Airport from elsewhere in Asia and this was the correct decision. Post-pandemic, Japan has had mixed reviews for the entry experience into the country. In some places it is easy, others convoluted, and some ports like Tokyo’s Narita have been plagued by hours-long queues. Entering the country at Kansai was a relatively smooth experience, amplified by an express train taking me to my hotel 2 blocks from the venue near Osaka’s Namba hub in the Naniwa district of the second city.

Tickets were procured through Tachiai’s partner BuySumoTickets.com. I’ve long been a user of their service and could not be happier with the seats or the special gift bags we received for our business. I had the tickets delivered directly to the hotel in Osaka on the day before my arrival, and after presenting my detailed delivery confirmation from Japan Post which BuySumoTickets provided, the front desk team was able to track down the envelope in the back room.

A word here about sumo tickets – they are the equivalent of cash, and can only be issued once, so coordination and attention to the package is key. A lot of first time visitors to a basho really seem to struggle with this. We’ve heard stories of people losing or failing to turn up with tickets, bringing their receipts and expecting to have it honoured by the Kyokai. They won’t. But once inside, they are very accommodating of foreign visitors and brought us directly to our box.

I went back and forth before the basho about whether to order the “Arena S” seats (hardback chairs with a removable cushion) or a 2 person masu-seki. I don’t find the boxes to normally be comfortable for a full day’s viewing, but the 2 person box is a great feature of Osaka’s venue. Most fans that I know don’t travel in groups of 4 and don’t have a need for the 4 person boxes which are most prevalent across the venues. While I was a little worried about the distance from the box to the dohyo, I shouldn’t have been. BuySumoTickets managed to secure an absolutely outstanding view from our seats.

One note about the layout of the EDION Arena is that unlike in Tokyo, which has the faux-cherry blossom lined chaya-michi alley where the various tea-houses supply luxury gift packages to tanimachi and other fans, the section of the EDION Arena housing the chaya’s booths is actually outside the main gate of the arena. Osaka tickets grant you one re-entry, so if you have ordered a lunch set or gift set and don’t pick it up on the way in, you will have to use your one re-entry in order to go out the front gate and retrieve it. After this, you won’t have any more exit and entry privileges.

Our gift sets came replete with a very generously portioned bento, a traditional dessert, program, various other souvenirs including sumo chocolates, and of course, the famous sumo yakitori. While I normally will want to sample food from the venue throughout the day, this package was simply so filling that there was no need to report on other options available within the venue. I can report however that the various gift shops were full with the usual omiyage gift boxes of sumo themed cookies and snacks, and yakitori, chips and drinks were available at points in the venue. Chankonabe did not however appear to be available in the venue, at least as far as I could tell.

The Arena’s hallways, so well-known for its previous ability to interact with rikishi, had been re-organised since the pandemic. Rikishi walkways to the hanamichi had now been fully segregated, with all of the previous shopping areas in the vicinity of the shitakubeya moved to other areas of the venue. This is obviously meant to limit casual interaction between rikishi and members of the general public, although it is still possible to linger outside the shitakubeya entrances from a distance. But there is no longer any casual engagement with sumotori that’s possible inside the venue. It’s possible that those wishing to engage with very low rankers could have more luck earlier in the day, but punters should be aware that there is a security presence in this area. You will, however, still see lower-rankers entering and leaving the venue throughout the day by the front entrance.

While rikishi are less-spotted, oyakata are still very much milling around and tending to their various duties. Once inside, the very first blue-jacketed-giant we came across was Tomozuna-oyakata, the recently retired Brazilian fan favourite Kaisei. He was happy to pose for photos with fans in the hallways. Word also travelled around the venue that former Sekiwake Okinoumi was performing fansa in an effort to drum up interest and ticket sales ahead of his forthcoming danpatsushiki, although I didn’t personally see him.

As I’ve said many times, Osaka’s atmosphere, for me, is unmatched. The crowd warmed up gradually throughout the day until eventually exploding into life late on. I can’t say it was exactly like the basho that I used to know, but you could see flashes of it here and there. It’s not sumo without a heavily drunken uncle veering between punching the air, slumping over half asleep or effing and blinding in reaction to the day’s events. Happily, the next box contained a local karaoke bar owner who was happy to oblige in all of these things and also engage in some spirited banter about which rikishi had been bad boys in recent years for their misadventures in the company of deep-pocketed sponsors or in gambling dens or with alcohol or ladies or all of the above. Some of the conjecture was too hot for TV, but you’ll just have to believe me.

I attended Day 3 of the basho, and its first week coincided with Japan’s loosening of mask restrictions. While mask observance was obviously still heavily prevalent throughout the venue (and Osaka and Tokyo generally), it was also clear that fans were starting to feel more comfortable eating, drinking, socialising and cheering in the public space. After a couple years of tournaments plagued by a lack of real fan engagement and cheering, where drinking beverages apart from water had been forbidden and thunderous winning moves were met with timid clapping, it was good to see the arena sparking back to life.

While the sumo continued on for several matches after, I think the highlight in terms of atmosphere will have been the match contested and won by Osaka native Ura. As I have said already, I felt in this basho that he rubber-stamped his position as heir-and-successor to Osaka’s Ikioi as local hero. While this may have felt obvious for sometime, it just isn’t right to see an exciting victory met by golf claps. The magic of Osaka is when the venue explodes into life as the flashbulbs pop from the side of the dohyo at a moment that fills the fans with pride for the performance of a native son. The sakura-tinted mawashi wearing man from Kise beta duly obliged to ensure no matter what else took place, the locals would be sent home happy.

All in all, it did not disappoint. It would be inaccurate to say that I felt the frisson that I used to before going to a basho. But I think that will come, perhaps whenever I am next able to visit the Kokugikan. I think more than anything the prevailing feeling was one of relief, of being able to return to something we used to know and love. Of feeling thankful to be back at sumo again.