Day at a Sumo Tournament

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There are six Grand Sumo tournaments and three of them happen here in Ryogoku. The hierarchy of sumo wrestlers is quite complex and requires quite a bit of study. Not anyone who wins a tournament could be elevated to yokozuna or grand champion status. Criteria for promotion from ozeki to yokozuna requires winning at least two consecutive tournaments and even then, they are still subject to deliberation. The complexity of the hierarchy is matched by the simplicity of the rules in a sumo bout: a wrestler loses the match when he either steps outside the ring or touches the ground with anything other than the soles of his feet. Sumo wrestlers also lose if they use an illegal technique or fail to show up for their match.

I reached to Kokugikan Stadium, where three of the six annual Grand Sumo tournaments were held. The place could accommodate over ten thousand visitors and as it was sumo season, it was packed to the rafters with spectators, each one proudly rooting for his or her favorite wrestler.

I took my place and watched the two wrestlers slam into each other in the initial charge. In less than two minutes, one of the wrestlers slammed his fist into the ground and the referee waved his gunbai or umpire’s fan in the direction of the winner.

I glanced briefly at the young woman seated to my right. She was seated with her back ramrod straight and not even touching the seat. Her unwavering dark blue eyes were fixed on the ring, her features expressionless. Yet, there was a touch of fierceness in the way she regarded the match. Like me, she seemed more Western than Japanese.

Suddenly, she turned to me and I looked down at my shoes awkwardly. It was one thing to glance at a beautiful woman, to be caught staring was almost mortifying.

"Do you watch these matches often?" she asked me, her accent distinctly British.

I shook my head. "No, this is my first time. I have been fascinated with the world of sumo wrestling as a boy and have always wanted to witness one firsthand."

I realized I was babbling and felt myself flush. See, this was why I didn’t go out often. I often lose the ability to maintain a sensible conversation with members of the opposite sex.

She nodded and smiled. "I only recently learned about sumo. I came across it in one of the books I read while I recuperated."

"You were ill?"

She shook her head and I noticed how shiny and soft her dark brown locks were. "No. I was injured during a rehearsal for The Nutcracker."

The Nutcracker. No wonder she had such control over her body. She was a ballerina.

"In a way, sumo wrestling is like a dance," she continued. "And it is not by his size alone that the winner is determined."

"You’re right," I smiled and offered her my hand. "My name is Daniel."

She cocked her head to the right, her blue eyes boring into me like a curious sparrow’s. My heart pounded in my chest in the seconds it took before she reached her hand out for mine to shake. "I am Ellaine."

The match between two ozeki was announced and I reached for the chance, afraid that if I did not take it, it will have passed me by.

"How about dinner after this match?" I blurted out.

Without taking her eyes off the match, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, she answered in that quiet voice of hers, "Chanko nabe sounds fine."

I smiled and enjoyed the next match. It was over in two minutes.

There were many things to be gained while traveling. New experiences, new knowledge, and sometimes, our paths cross with those who are parts of our souls but are a long way from our origins.

There are six Grand Sumo tournaments and three of them happen here in Ryogoku. The hierarchy of sumo wrestlers is quite complex and requires quite a bit of study. Not anyone who wins a tournament could be elevated to yokozuna or grand champion status. Criteria for promotion from ozeki to yokozuna requires winning at least two consecutive tournaments and even then, they are still subject to deliberation.

The complexity of the hierarchy is matched by the simplicity of the rules in a sumo bout: a wrestler loses the match when he either steps outside the ring or touches the ground with anything other than the soles of his feet. Sumo wrestlers also lose if they use an illegal technique or fail to show up for their match.

I reached to Kokugikan Stadium, where three of the six annual Grand Sumo tournaments were held. The place could accommodate over ten thousand visitors and as it was sumo season, it was packed to the rafters with spectators, each one proudly rooting for his or her favorite wrestler.

I took my place and watched the two wrestlers slam into each other in the initial charge. In less than two minutes, one of the wrestlers slammed his fist into the ground and the referee waved his gunbai or umpire’s fan in the direction of the winner.

I glanced briefly at the young woman seated to my right. She was seated with her back ramrod straight and not even touching the seat. Her unwavering dark blue eyes were fixed on the ring, her features expressionless. Yet, there was a touch of fierceness in the way she regarded the match. Like me, she seemed more Western than Japanese.

Suddenly, she turned to me and I looked down at my shoes awkwardly. It was one thing to glance at a beautiful woman, to be caught staring was almost mortifying.

"Do you watch these matches often?" she asked me, her accent distinctly British.

I shook my head. "No, this is my first time. I have been fascinated with the world of sumo wrestling as a boy and have always wanted to witness one firsthand."

I realized I was babbling and felt myself flush. See, this was why I didn’t go out often. I often lose the ability to maintain a sensible conversation with members of the opposite sex.

She nodded and smiled. "I only recently learned about sumo. I came across it in one of the books I read while I recuperated."

"You were ill?"

She shook her head and I noticed how shiny and soft her dark brown locks were. "No. I was injured during a rehearsal for The Nutcracker."

The Nutcracker. No wonder she had such control over her body. She was a ballerina.

"In a way, sumo wrestling is like a dance," she continued. "And it is not by his size alone that the winner is determined."

"You’re right," I smiled and offered her my hand. "My name is Daniel."

She cocked her head to the right, her blue eyes boring into me like a curious sparrow’s. My heart pounded in my chest in the seconds it took before she reached her hand out for mine to shake. "I am Ellaine."

The match between two ozeki was announced and I reached for the chance, afraid that if I did not take it, it will have passed me by.

"How about dinner after this match?" I blurted out.

Without taking her eyes off the match, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, she answered in that quiet voice of hers, "Chanko nabe sounds fine."

I smiled and enjoyed the next match. It was over in two minutes.

There were many things to be gained while traveling. New experiences, new knowledge, and sometimes, our paths cross with those who are parts of our souls but are a long way from our origins.