In the West, we have our "sport of kings," while in
Japan, they have their "sport of emperors."

Sumo, a unique type of Japanese wrestling, draws perhaps the
largest fan following of any native sport and yet, relatively
little is known of it or its champions outside of Japan.

A fellow American once described sumo as "two fat guys charging at each
other until one falls down!" He of course thought this description a clever
"punch line" sufficient to totally dismiss any further discussion of the sport;
however, I feel that, in light of its importance as a traditional aspect of
the ways of Japan and the high esteem in which its practitioners
are held, a bit more needs to be said.

Let me begin by saying that I am not a defender of sumo nor am I a fan.
For me, sumo lacks the excitement and tension of a three and two count
on the hometown slugger in the bottom of the ninth inning with the tying
run on base or the alternating interplay between offense and defense on a
muddy gridiron but, a sport or any activity for that matter that stretches
back more than 1500 years certainly deserves more attention than
simply dismissing it as "two fat guys charging at each other!"

Accounts of sumo matches between the gods can be found in the legends of
Japan's creation. Several hundred years ago, it was a form of deadly combat ,
then a sport and an art with a good deal of military and religious significance.
Even today, the sport is deeply steeped in ritual; the tossing of salt by both
participants before the match to purify the ring, the stamping of feet to dispel
demons, the raising of hands, palms upward, hairstyles of the fighters, loincloths
they wear ("mawashi") are all bound up in tradition and rituals long past.

Let us then concede that sumo today is a popular athletic contest between two highly
trained men of skill, strength and stamina. Most of the wrestlers who weigh in excess
of 300 pounds are powerful, muscular and agile; the additional weight that contains
this package is the force that gives motion, stability and balance to the whole.

Some recent champions like Akebono weighed in at 516 pounds, Musashimaru at 447
while the dimuntive Terao was only 257. These participants wage their struggle, not
in a ring with ropes but on a platform made of clay, raised two feet off the ground
and circled by a rope like material forming a ring atop the platform. Within this
"ring," fifteen feet in diameter, the ritual and contest take place.

The opening ceremonies of a match, the salt tossing, foot stamping, hand raising,
go on for ten or fifteen minutes whereas the match itself may end in a few seconds
- don't blink! How disappointing to those of us who like to eat at least two hot
dogs and have a cold drink even before the end of the first inning!

The victor in the match is the one who forces his opponent to
touch the floor inside the ring with any part of his body except
his feet or if he forces his opponent out of the ring.

Sumo wrestlers train for many years with the hope of reaching that exaulted rank, that
apex of the sumo pyramid, "yokozuna", grand champion and most never achieve it.

Is this less than the work of a poet, an actor, an artist?
Does it not merit at least understanding if not respect?
Or, should it merely be dismissed curtly as the clash of fat men?

There are complex strategies in sumo, many different holds
and countless techniques but like my friend who once gave
it such a brief description, I will give you my "spin" on it.

Dedicated men train for years, building their bodies up through special diets
and exercise regimens in preparation for that single, brief moment when all
of it comes into focus as they charge at another who has been similarly
trained and prepared. The unleashing of such powerful forces,
physical. mental and perhaps even spiritual, all focused upon
offense for that single instant of contact! A zen moment indeed!

Might there not be, after all, something more profound and noble about it,
this sport of sumo, than simply "two fat guys charging at each other!"

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