Sumo
11/27
I showed up in Fukuoka with B in tow around
11AM for the sumo tournament that was to last all day, or so we heard. Rule
number one of sumo is you don’t talk about sumo - apparently even to other JETs
who have never been. So of course, no one told us that the real event wouldn’t
begin until around 4 that afternoon. So we entered the area to the cheers of...
10 people, maybe? Some wrestlers were sitting around the center rink while two
wrestled in the middle and a crowd of about 5 people filled the stands to cheer
them on. It was a little sad but then I remembered that the event had sold out
of tickets so we quickly put two and two together and realized we must just be
early. So we took the opportunity to snuggle up close to the rink and take a
ton of pictures since there was no one around to block our view then we left
the building for some more interesting events (like people watching in
Fukuoka).
After a few hours of window shopping in
what struck me as bearing a strong resemblance to an American outdoor mall, we
returned to the sumo tournament. I wish I could tell you about everything I saw
there but, honestly, the videos will have to suffice. I didn’t understand the
sumo tournament or rules in the least and the people I shared seating space
with talked the whole way through about this or that or the other and didn’t
pay much attention to the ring. Overall, the experience could have been vastly
improved had I been sitting with B and/or with people who were actually
enjoying the events we all paid good money to enjoy.
Enough bitching though. I was surprised by
the amount of foreigners that were present in the tournament; and I don’t just
mean white people. There were a good number of Chinese and Indonesian
wrestlers, who put up a valiant effort against their smaller but more agile
competition. In the end, though, the Japanese won out. I am told this is a rare
occurrence though. I certainly would not have guessed the smaller
fluffy-looking Japanese man would win over the biggest Bulgarian man I had ever
seen in my life. The Bulgarian was so buff he had abs on top of his belly fat.
But apparently pure strength means little in a small salt lined ring where the
slightest misstep will see you face up on top of a small, brightly colored
referee. It almost happened once, actually.
But while I understood that part of the
match, once they finally grabbed a hold of each other and starting trying to
throw one another outside of the ring. It was the soap opera-esc drama that
preceded the actually throwing that had me confused. They would arrange
themselves facing each other, stare into their opponents eyes, and then touch
their fists to the ground. But more often than not, one player reached the
ground just a split second sooner than the other and they would both stand and
walk around the ring again, throwing salt and preparing for another face off.
The more advanced the players, the more of this cat and mouse game they played
until it got to the point where I thought they would never begin the match.
When I consulted another teacher a few days
after the match about the play-drama that preceded the wrestling he informed me
that in recent years it has turned sumo into more of a joke than a sport. A
mind game of wits matched with hundreds of kilos of nabe filled tummies while they spew venom through their eyes at one
another. I had to agree with his assessment when I thought back to how after a
few bouts of play fighting I was sick of watching at all and I quickly lost
interest in the matches.
Overall though, I have no regrets about going,
although you likely won’t see me at sumo again this year, and I think it is
something everyone should experience. Go get your culture on, then make sure
you wait a year to tell people about it! Love.
