Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, May 2, 1993 TAG: 9305030236
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By TERESA WATANABE LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: TOKYO LENGTH: Long
It's 8 a.m. on a Friday. I am in a room with 10 men averaging more than 300 pounds each, their corpulent bodies covered with dirt and sweat as they crash and collide. They are bone naked except for loincloths; their hair is covered with thick grease and pulled into topknots.
Smack! The room is dead silent except for heavy breathing and the slap of flesh. It is unadorned, except for a dirt ring. There is nothing to break the intensity here of man against man, pitting muscle and might in what adherents consider a sacred blend of sport, religion and art spanning more than 2,000 years.
I feel as if I have stumbled backward in time to some primitive village where tribal rites of initiation into manhood are being performed. In fact, I am in the middle of Tokyo, in a district called Ryogoku that is the center of Japan's sumo world - a world that is drawing international attention for its glamour, novelty and breathtakingly brute athletics.
You won't find the area listed in standard tour guides, but here you can watch the sumo wrestlers' morning training, browse through sumo souvenir shops, eat lunch or dinner at a sumo specialty restaurant, visit the sumo museum at the National Sumo Stadium. You even can shop for king-sized jeans or the 13-inch-long Japanese thongs worn by Akebono, the native Hawaiian-American who recently became the first foreigner to win the crown of "yokozuna," or grand champion. When the 23-year-old sumo king, whose given name is Chad Rowan, was awarded sumo's top honor, it gave a kick to the sport's growing profile in the United States.
Only a five-minute train ride from Akihabara, the electronics district, neighboring Ryogoku is a throwback to Japan's timeless and feudalistic past. While Akihabara, whose clutter of consumer temples selling high-definition TVs, postage-stamp-size tape recorders and palm-sized computers represents Japan's most futuristic face, Ryogoku offers a glimpse into a fascinating aspect of Japanese culture that has not changed appreciably over centuries.
The district itself is located in Tokyo's older section, a down-home, working-class neighborhood of small homes, shops and factories crammed together in a 30-block area bounded by the Sumida River to the west, the Toei Asakusa subway line to the north and the Tozai subway line to the south. The main action, however, is centered in about a 10-block area radiating out from the Ryogoku train station.
If you actually want to see sumo, Ryogoku is the place to try buying tickets before each of the three tournaments staged annually in Tokyo during January, May and September. Tickets range from about $25 for the cheapest seat to $600 for a ringside seat on the same side of the stadium where the emperor sits.
A day in Ryogoku starts early, but you won't regret the lost hours of sleep. For unknown to most outsiders, several of the district's approximately 20 sumo stables allow visitors to watch their morning training for free.
The wrestlers themselves are up as early as 5:30 a.m. and in the ring knocking heads from about 6:30 to 9:30 a.m. Not quite as ambitious, I don't make it to the Ryogoku train station off the Sobu Line on the eastern side of Tokyo until 7:45 a.m., where I meet Los Angeles Times researcher Chiaki Kitada. We've decided to visit the Azumazeki Stable, next to the Honjo Fire Station off Mitsume Road in the district's northeast section (4-6-4 Higashi Komagata). It's headed by the sumo world's only foreign-born stable master, the former Jesse Kuhaulua of Hawaii. The jovial sumo pioneer was the first foreigner to win a tournament, and recruited sumo stars Akebono, Konishiki and other Hawaiians to the sport.
The stable's sign in bold black calligraphy was penned by former Japanese Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone. We enter the training room, a sparse but airy enclosure of blonde-wood walls surrounding a dirt ring. There before us, like ancient gladiators, are huge, heaving, male bodies, wrapped only in brown training belts. While two wrestlers face off in the ring, the others jog around them, do stretches, lift weights. Some of them shoot us inquiring looks. No wonder: We are the only women in the room.
The male energy is overwhelming. I feel slightly embarrassed and extremely conspicuous. Sumo is a man's world, where women are not allowed even to step into the ring.
But the Japanese manager, Kokichi Karimata, is extremely friendly. He tells one of the junior wrestlers to get cushions for us to sit on.
Akebono, the 462-pound sumo champion who towers over everyone else at 6 feet, 7 inches, strides into the ring. He takes on two other wrestlers alternatively, making short work of them, pushing them out of the ring in seconds. Sweat pours down his face; heat rises from his back. (In sumo, the objective is to propel one's opponent out of the 15-foot ring or cause him to touch the ground with some part of the body other than the soles of his feet.)
Between matches, Akebono clowns around. He burps loudly, and laughs. He playfully spits water on a junior wrestler, who doesn't flinch. Befitting his rank, Akebono is endlessly catered to, as junior wrestlers scurry to wipe his back, serve him water and retie his belt.
Not all sumo stables accommodate visitors. Your best bet may be to call before going down. Most sumo books, as well as the English-language Tokyo-based Sumo World magazine (which can be found at some hotels and most bookstores), list stables and their telephone numbers.
And do observe sumo etiquette when watching practice. According to Sumo World publisher Andy Adams, visitors should not use flash bulbs, talk or approach the wrestlers during practice. Always ask for permission before taking photos. And, in deference to the sport's male tradition, women should wear pants and sit with legs folded under or to the side, never cross-legged.
And what's a trip to Ryogoku without stocking up on sumo souvenirs? Head south on Ryogoku 3-Chome until you hit National Road No. 14 and head east on the national road.
A few blocks down on the left side is the Hoshi no Ojisama gift shop, whose windows are filled with roly-poly sumo dolls in all sizes. They also sell T-shirts, piggy banks, lighters and ballpoint pens, and hand out free maps of Ryogoku, although they are in Japanese.
From its inception two millennia ago, sumo has been closely related to Shintoism, Japan's animistic native religion. In the "Kojiki," Japan's oldest account of its mythical traditions and historical events, the first sumo champion, Nominosukune, was worshiped as a god.
As we climb into a cab, the taxi driver is listening to the sumo broadcast on the radio. Barely able to contain himself, he blurts out the latest news. "Kotobeppu got hurt," he breathlessly announces. Then, "Who do you like? Ah, Akebono? He's big, isn't he? Second biggest to Konishiki. Really huge. You saw Mitoizumi? Ah, he's a round kid, isn't he?"
We know we are in Ryogoku.
by CNB