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Beverly Claire L. Fangonon.
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Grand Sumo
Face to Face with a Legend: Page 2
Once a year, in hot July, the sumo basho (tournament) comes over to Nagoya. In 1999, I was seized with a photography urge, and what better to shoot than the extreme sport and glorious pageantry that is sumo? More than that, before taking on photography I've already became a screaming, loyal sumo fan, so why not attempt to see the greatest sumo guy of them all, Chiyonofuji, in flesh and blood? Sure, I could no longer oggle at him in his semi-naked glory. But that's beside the point. I just wanted to get near this guy, to feel his aura and be blown away by his mere presence. I've come to the point where there was no turning back: I've read all about Chiyonofuji and seen the mags and publications with him on it and watched his videotaped matches and listened to my Japanese sumo fan friends recount memories of him and tell of his legend. Boy, was I in awe of the man Chiyonofuji. Since the sumo tournament was coming over to my backyard, why not seize the chance to see him up close?
Angle screens inside Nagoya TV.
Buttons and levers and switches...oh my!
It so happened that I know several people--engineers--who work for the Nagoya Broadcasting Network. It meant that I could have access to the place as a guest. Being the nice guys that they are, they invited me over to the studio to watch the live recording of "Sumo Digest", a TV program that wraps up the day's matches. Here, former sumo guys do the match analyses. The program went on for the duration of the tournament (15 days), and on the last day, it was always Chiyonofuji/Kokonoe-oyakata who took the mike.
With great excitement, I made my way to the Nagoya TV studio. Before the recording started, my friends gave me a tour of the whole place. It was awesome. I enjoyed looking at the sets and machines and all the other stuff that make up a television station. At around 9 PM, the studio set for Sumo Digest got lighted up. My friends ushered me in, but had to leave me soon after because they had to man the controls.
Jun Imai mans the control room.
All wired up at Nagoya TV.
So there I was, sitting inside the studio, facing the set. Although giddy with anticipation, I sat very quietly, quiet as a mouse, without blinking an eye or moving a muscle. I waited, heart pounding. The television men were discussing Chiyo. "Did his deshi (sumo pupils) win today?" one of them asked worriedly. "No, both his top deshi lost. I suppose he won't be in a good mood tonight", the other one replied. Wow, I thought. Chiyonofuji, whether in the dohyo or out of it, was the kind of person who made people worry and just a tad scared.
And then HE came. Chiyonofuji entered, and I had to suck in my breath because his mere walking in already generated this powerful force that blew away everyone within five meters of him. The guy, known far and wide as "the Wolf", was in his wolfiest that night, frowning, impatient. I held my breath and stared. He wasn't big. He was nearly a decade into his retirement, and so had gotten somewhat flabby. But that face. And those eyes. I was only a few meters away and could see those eyes. Sharp, intelligent eyes that sized up those around him. Eyes that, when he was an active sumo dude, could turn an opponent into Jell-O.
Set of a noontime cooking show.
Popular talk show set.
Chiyonfoji might have gotten older, but those killer eyes remained bright and keen and dangerous. He had an incredible aura about him, a mixture of knowing that he was one of the strongest men to grace the face of the earth, that he was in the books and in people's memories a sumo legend, that he was the greatest of them all. And that he had done all this on his own, through a will of steel and a fearless soul.
Set for a news program.
He was still every inch The Wolf. The atmosphere he created around him was the kind that made men--and women--go down on their knees.
That night, at the Nagoya TV station, Chiyonfouji strode to the oversized chair, settled himself, then looked around the room. And saw me, three meters away, cowering behind a table.
