Recently I’ve fallen in love – with sumo.
Things got serious over the winter, on a Sunday in January, fourteen days into my first basho:
I’d spent all morning loading-in at a Midtown theatre for a play I was working on, scheduled to start rehearsals the following day. My parents were in from Detroit – for 36 hours only [to watch my partner perform the lead in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical!]. Over post-matinee pad thai, I told my mom and dad the Tale of Tochinoshin.
Halfway across the world in Tokyo, this 30 year-old sumo wrestler (“rikishi”) from [the country of] Georgia – an “outsider” in sumo culture – was crafting one of the most inspiring sports stories of my lifetime. – And I say that as someone who witnessed THIS GAME in-person (:::goosebumps forever:::) (#Ricardo).
Thanks to the internet, I told my parents, we could all watch to see if Tochinoshin’s tale would reach its crescendo that night in the top division (“Makuuchi”) tournament he was hoping to clinch.
Around 11PM – each of us exhausted from our respective days of air travel, performing in back-to-back Broadway shows, and manual labor – my parents, Jon and I gathered on our living room couch around a laptop screen. Bundled in well-worn sweats and clutching a stuffed Scooby-Doo, parents and Jon at my sides, I watched with bated breath as Tochinoshin stepped into a ring and claimed a moment. (:::more lifelong goosebumps:::) In doing so, he become a hero.
I was hooked.
At the conclusion of the 2018 Hatsu Basho, I tracked down the previous four tournaments, watched them all, and am presently three days into my eighth (2018 Nagoya Basho, July 8-22). I now consume sumo at a pace that rivals my most serious TV addictions (The Shield; Breaking Bad; The Wire; Game of Thrones): I find it captivating as a forty-two character-drama, with new seasons every other month and – BIG silver lining – super-low odds of “spoilers” from your friends.
It starts with a ring.
Inside the ring is an opportunity to seize a moment. Do you want this one? Remove your clothes, get your hair out of your face, show some respect and step inside.
The obstacle: someone who entered the ring as you did, from the other side – similarly stripped down and singularly-focused on owning this moment. Though clearly another body, it feels too like a symbolic reflection of self – one that epitomizes self-sabotage and exposes weakness.
Exchange direct eye contact with this adversary. Then, take a moment to prepare mentally and spiritually.
Prepare. Focus. Fight. – Always, always in that order. (After all: one of the most effective ways to conquer an obstacle is to develop first-hand knowledge of how it behaves when attacked.)
Fights come down to literal push-and-pull, assessing the moment using a customized combination of physics and willpower developed through years of disciplined training: no two rikishi strategies are exactly alike, and each one evolves constantly – because so does each body.
The ring offers a series of individual moments available for the taking, presented one-at-a-time. Unique as snowflakes, no moment appears twice.
Claim as many moments as your body will allow to build success – which is fleeting:
Continued success in sumo requires maintenance of the standard attained. There are no lifetime appointments, and status fades fast: it’s not just “how many moments have you claimed,” but “how many moments have you claimed lately?” (How recently have you used your near-naked body to connect with the gods?)
Sometimes winning and losing look really similar. When this happens, outside sources enter the ring to debate. Listening and clear communication are critical. Initial designations of “winner” and “loser” can change. Even still: mistakes happen. Move on.
Sport is essentially a metaphor for deciding a conflict, in which one side imposes its will on the other.
I appreciate sumo as the purest form of sport and, in doing so, see it as the purest form of conflict resolution:
The ring is every field and stage and page and law and election and war and religion.
Win or lose: Bow. Reflect. Go again tomorrow.
Some Sumo Similes
When asked about a deeper source of my sumo love – and I’m always asked, I respond by linking sumo to another interest I know my audience and I share. Find common ground.
For fun, I made a list of a dozen sumo-related comparisons I’ve made this year. It’s a poem!
| Sumo is Like / Sumo Has |
Sumo Simile | Corresponding Rikishi (Wrestler) |
| Comic Books | Like Daredevil, my strength grows in the darkness | Harumafuji |
| Revolution | Like Paul Revere, found ways to speak through fire | Tochinoshin |
| World Cup soccer | Like Ronaldo I am better when I feel beautiful | Endo |
| The Wire | Like Stringer Bell I learned to stay straight on the wire | Sōkokurai |
| Sports Hate | Like Tom Brady I gain power when you hate me | Goeido |
| Frustrating Politicians | Like Ted Cruz I’ve got a face you want to smack | Shodai |
| Nicolas Cage Movies | Like Nic Cage, who knows what the f**k I’m capable of?! | Asashōryū |
| Injured Favorites | Like Adele, my fans sure hope that I come back | Ura |
| Swimming | Like Michael Phelps, my skeleton defines me | Hakuho |
| Ballet | Like Misty Copeland: won’t be told what I can’t do | Abi |
| Detroit / the art in it | Like Diego Rivera my message fills a gallery | Ichinojo |
| Game of Thrones | Like Arya Stark I’ll find a way to follow through | Kakuryu |
…I could go on – happily: feel free to share with me something you’re into and I’ll share your Rikiski “patronus”!
What the world needs now is sumo, sweet sumo / No not just for some, but for everyone!
*MY* RIKISHI “PATRONUS”: TOCHINOSHIN
On the Surface
Due to my gender and nationality, when it comes to Makuuchi sumo, I am considered an OUTSIDER – Hell, I can’t even enter a ring. Sumo culture is unlikely to welcome my passionate presence and interest to commentate with open arms unless and until I become “THE BEST…A-ROUND!” over years of dedicated study and respect for the culture. So that’s my plan.
Tochinoshin may not have a vagina, but he’s not too far behind in terms of bearing a genetic OUTSIDER status in the sumo world. As a European with his current rank? He’s one of three – ever. (A reminder: sumo has been around more than 2,000 years.)
Under the Hood
I wake up each day a lifelong athlete in an injured body – one I’ve worked incredibly hard to rebuild and maintain. Recently my body broke – again (labrum tear, right hip): the injury cost me a job I’d worked hard to earn, temporarily removing the stability I’d anticipated for my future.
It’s OK, though: struggles seem to trigger my superpowers. Same goes for Tochinoshin.
In July 2013, after working his way into the Makuuchi (top) Division, Tochinoshin suffered a massive ACL tear: the injury cost him his place in Makuuchi, knocking him down two divisions – to the unpaid Makushita.
The man wanted to marry and start a family: this would not do.
Tochinoshin’s 16-month recovery and rise back to Makuuchi is the stuff of every great sports movie montage, complete with four lower-division championships – three of them undefeated, the other ending in a playoff. He rose 182 ranks in eight months. I’m talking Rocky – but if, when Rocky had gotten to the top of the steps and raised his arms, Apollo Creed was there in short-shorts and they raced to the beach – where they learned to crane kick with Mr. Miyagi – before finally making it to the ballpark just in time to lead the New York Knights to the pennant. AND HE’S BLIND.
Tochinoshin’s storyline is that satisfying. (This is my brain on sumo, btw.)
From November 2014 on, Tochinoshin has continued entering the ring and claiming moments. In January 2018, he won his first Makuuchi Division basho – completely unaware that, a world away, my parents, my partner and I were huddled around a seventeen-inch laptop screen crying in celebration of his victory. (Watch for yourself: match starts at 5:30.)
But a “win,” of course, is fleeting. There are other “Day 14s” – take this one, just four months later: when a moment – and with it a storyline – is lost because of a loose of piece of silk.
What does he do? Takes a second – a literal second – to mourn the defeat in a way the ring can feel: he strikes the clay with a fist. Then:
Bows. Reflects. Goes again tomorrow.
P.S. This is my first time writing about sumo.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed learning about Tochinoshin, who served as my gateway into the sport: the rikishi who won the first tournament I watched and simultaneously won my heart.
I can’t wait to share my love of other rikishi – like Hakuho, the greatest to ever enter a dohyo; the Babe Ruth of sumo. And Ura: an exceptionally graceful wrestler working his way back from a severe knee injury. And Ichinojo: the six-foot-four, 500-pound Mongolian mountain that blew my mind wide open in considering the appearance of an athlete’s body. And Takayasu: a real-time case study in changing your technique to fit new limitations of your body. And Chiyonokuni: who wrestled the match of his life just yesterday (on his 28th birthday) – against Takayasu. And Abi: the long-limbed kid too young to know he shouldn’t be this good yet. And recently-retired Haramafuji, who gave me a window into sumo’s dark-side. And Asanoyama – a personal favorite of mine in the recent freshman class. And Endo: “the sexy one.”
In future posts, I’ll write about sumo through my eyes, explained to the best of my ability – acknowledging at the outset that I am new to the field and driven primarily by an enthusiasm to learn and a deep love of studying other cultures. (We’ll learn together.)
– To address the, uh, “elephant [trunk]” in the mawashi, so to speak:
The Makauuchi Division is male-only. In fact, there are a number of stringent policies limiting female access to the sport. As a result: in pursuit of my studies, my gender will prevent me from experiencing certain parts of sumo culture. (Tale as old as time / Song as old as rhyme: sexist in the East. …Also in the West.) I’ve made my peace with it and do not intend to actively “push the envelope” on this issue. This particular door is not mine to kick down.
Hakkeyoi!
Direct private comments to me by email: I’d love to hear from you!
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