Background
I have been a sumo fan for more than 30 years. I attended the Las Vegas Koen in 2005 (where I met a young Hakuhō and Ama/Harumafuji wrestling in the lazy river of the Mandalay bay).
I have participated in Konishiki’s Sumo and Sushi’s “Get in the Ring” event and pulled off a victory.
After more than three decades of following sumo, I thought I had a reasonable understanding of what rikishi do and a good understanding of how to make a sumo-themed izakaya.
The bottom line is that I thought I “knew” sumo. I know the terminology, the kanji, the banzuke, the statistics. I can call (poorly) the kimarite in a bout. After Sumo and Sushi, I even thought I knew what “taking sumo” felt like. There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom, and part of that is derived from experience.
During my family’s recent trip to Japan (May/June), we had a chance to take a mini-morning training exercise under the guidance of former top division’s Kyokutaisei (旭大星). For those who do not recall, he was subject of a French Documentary in 2009.
This experience is what gave me and my family the chance to learn more about sumo. Since the experience, I see the sport differently, and in a much more appreciative way. Please allow me to explain.
We booked the opportunity to participate in former maegashira Kyokutaisei’s sumo training experience. Kyokutaisei was supported by former rikishi Kyokuhikari and Hakuyō. After only a few minutes, the contrast was stark: watching sumo and living even a tiny fragment of it are entirely different things. The training regime is brutal and one does leave their blood, sweat, and tears in the ring. By the end of the session, my family had gained an entirely new level of respect for the men who dedicate their lives to this sport.
A Peek Behind the Curtain
Sumo remains one of the most unique corners of Japanese culture. The more you study it, the more you realize you have left to learn. Almost every one of us has encountered sumo via streaming, online videos, live TV or (if you are lucky to get tickets) from the seats of the Kokugikan. Unlike many other sports, for non-Japanese, it is almost exclusively observed from a distance.
Let’s be clear, my wife and son were good sports for joining me on this adventure. As the family’s resident sumo obsessive, I was the obvious enthusiast. They were willing participants. Let’s also say that they have had 30 years of second-hand exposure to sumo, so they did not walk in completely unawares.
Nevertheless, at the end of the day, my wife summed up the experience better than I could. She called it a “peek behind the curtain.” Ironically, she had no idea that the English translation of makunouchi (sumo’s top division) is often given as “behind the curtain.”
Peeking behind the curtain is exactly what this experience offered.
The experience began with our arrival and introductions. Right away, everyone was approachable and quite appreciative of meeting foreign fans that were not typical tourists. I knew the wrestlers and their histories. Kyokuhikari was impressed that I recalled his debut was in 1992 and Hakuyō was shocked to hear that I knew his stable (Isenoumi) and that he had only retired within the last year. I explained that I would do a write-up for the blog, and everyone was amenable. Of course, these are now businessmen, selling a product and it must have been very different for them, men who had spent years inside the closed and demanding world of the heya system, to welcoming complete amateurs into their world. We could tell that we were in for something special. This experience is different.
The Mawashi Moment
Perhaps the first surprise was having a mawashi put on.
I had imagined it would feel impossibly tight everywhere. Yes, I mean everywhere. Men know what I am talking about. Instead, the tightness was concentrated around the waist and it remained quite comfortable. Yes, we had to wear shorts and t-shirts, nobody wants to use second-hand mawashi. So, they keep it clean.
The mawashi fabric was remarkably sturdy and heavy. It was more substantial than I had expected. The moment you grab one, you can quickly understand its purpose. A mawashi isn’t simply clothing, it is sumo’s main tool. A grip on the mawashi is all it took to realize how easily it would assist in moving, lifting, or controlling your opponent. Feeling and using that leverage in your hands is entirely different than watching a yorikiri battle on TV.
It seemed they were more prepared to host larger tourist or corporate events, not a small family of three. But they were all happy to spend the time with us to get us prepared.
Fate Decides Your Shiko
Then came our first “asa-geiko” training. As expected, the first exercise was shiko. However, they did not present us with any ordinary shiko. They came around with a box and we had to draw lots to determine how many repetitions we would do. Every draw felt like a lottery in reverse as nobody wanted to get the high number.
There were ping-pong balls numbered 5-50 in increments of 5. I got 30, my son 15. My wife, who usually has good luck, got the 50. Of course, they did have some mercy on her. One of the instructors mentioned that wrestlers may perform hundreds of shiko—sometimes around 500 in a training day. An order of magnitude less should have been easy for an amateur, no? No!
No matter how many stomps were assigned, every one of us had legs that were starting to turn to liquid.
As an amateur, surviving a small sample felt like an accomplishment. For a rikishi, it’s simply a small portion of their regular morning routine.
That was just the start. We then had to go through our second round of “test your luck”. We had to draw the ball that determined how many seconds we would have to hold a squat position.
If the shiko hurt, the squats were another level entirely. Once again, due to their mercy on my wife’s high draw, it was down to me to handle 20 seconds of the squat (15 for my son). I noticed that within moments, my thighs began quaking. The wrestlers noted, too, that my legs were trembling. A burning sensation spread higher and higher until maintaining the position became an exercise in willpower more than strength.
And then came the moment of enlightenment: professional rikishi do this every day and they do not get the luck of a small ping pong number. They must do this for minutes, tens of minutes at a time. Everyday.
Part II coming soon – with Surashi, Butsukari-geiko, and learning some kimarite.
