Would you like to link to
this website? Please use
one of the buttons below. Thank you!
Webdesign & contents
by ClaireWorks.
Copyright 2000-2001
Beverly Claire L. Fangonon.
All rights reserved.
All graphics & photographs
by ClaireWorks,
unless otherwise indicated.
Grand Sumo
Osaka Basho and How Anticipation Killed the Cat 09 March 1999
There is
such a thing as too much anticipation and too little planning. Me, I know this
well. Perhaps too well.
Six times a year a grand sumo tournament is held. Each tourney, called a
basho, lasts for fifteen days, and each day, about 3 hours of action is
broadcast on TV. So between the hours of 3 and 6 PM, millions of
Japanese and gaijins (foreigners) in Japan position themseleves in front
of their TV sets for some great, close-up, live sumo action. I am among the
millions.
Today, the much anticipated Osaka tournament opened, and I was so
excited I made sure that I woke up in the morning to do all the day's chores,
which included buying a sack of munchies and candybar six packs to pig on while I
watched sumo in my hog heaven of a rabbit hutch. I did the buying with great
excitement, and anticipated the eating with even greater excitement,
and the matches themselves with the greatest excitement.
Kotonowaka (middle) shuffles along for the makuuchi dohyo-iri or ring entering ceremony. The ceremonial apron he wears, called kesho-mawashi, is made of heavy silk and gold brocade, and can cost up to 400,000 Japanese yen. They're usually given by sponsors and supporters as a gift to the sumo dude. Sometimes the lower part of the apron is embroidered with the giver's name or company. The higher-ranking the sumo guy is, the more kesho-mawashi he has. Click to view the whole photo.
However, probably with this overburden of anticipation, I was asleep by noon,
with the alarm clock set at 3:45 (the TV coverage was to start at 3:50 PM). I
think you can guess what unfortunately happened.
Okay, so it wasn't just the waiting that tired me out in the end. The night
before the opening day, I was up all the while and in cyberspace, adding text to
my web diary about this upcoming sumo tourney and netchatting with some friends
about the prospects for this particular basho (tournament): who's hot,
who's not, whom we were betting on, etc.
These, along with the rush of activities in the morning, caused me to, heaven
help me, overextend my afternoon nap. By the time I got off of Z-land I knew,
without even looking at any of the several clocks set strategically all over my
apartment, that I missed it. Crawling at lightning speed toward the TV remote
control, I switched on to Channel 3, and right in my face was, heaven help me,
Kotonowaka. Sekiwake Kotonowaka, a high-ranking sumo guy. And he was
leaving the ring.
Sumo matches are arranged from the lowest-ranked guys up to the big shots on
the top, with the musubi no ichiban (last match of the day) pitting the
yokozuna dudes against the cannon fodders (for the first half of the
tournament, it's the maegashira level-sumo guys). This means that you can
determine how much of the action you missed just by seeing who are in the ring.
For instance, if you see a yokozuna up there, then you know that you missed
almost all of the day's matches. So the sight of Kotonowaka, handsome though he
may be, set me in great despair, for he was a high-ranking dude and it meant
that I missed around two dozen matches and there were only around six left
before the sayonara drums are played.
Anyway, I was able to watch Dejima, Takatoriki, Musoyama, Musashimaru,
Takanonami, and the two yokuzuna (grand champion) brothers Taka and Waka, but I
felt pretty bad because I wasn't able see a whole bunch of others. I did see a
favorite, though, a dude named Chiyotaikai, who's only a year older than yours
truly.
Of special interest to every sumo fan, of course, is this new ozeki
(champion) Chiyotaikai, the January tour's winner. Today he was pitted against
Dejima, who creamed him in literally the blink of an eye with hatakikomi
(slapping one's opponent downward, which sends him sprawling on all fours). Poor
Chiyotaikai. He was extremely uptight, the tension written all over his face
from the moment he entered the arena up till tachiai (initial clash).
During this clash Taikai lowered his head and shoulders, apparently to hit
Dejima on the pecs, grab his belt and power him out of the dohyo (sumo
ring). Taikai, however, lowered his upper body a lot, too much to the point that
Dejima slapped him down 'easily' and sent the ozeki down on the clay. Taikai sat
up, seemingly not knowing what hit him. Everyone, the whole crowd, was so
surprised--and disappointed--that they themselves didn't know how to react. It
was very much unlike Taikai to lower his upper body and go headlong into an
opponent. He was probably anticipating that Dejima would anticipate
Taikai's favorite technique, tsuppari (series of fast-paced open-palmed
thrusts aimed at the opponent's chest and neck usually resulting to
tsukidashi or 'thrust out' winning move), so Taikai decided to surprise
his opponent by going low and powering him out of the ring with perhaps a
yoritaoshi (topple out an opponent using one's weight and momentum).
Which was a pretty puzzling thing for him to do, since Dejima has very skillful
deashi (follow-up after initial clash) and is basically a defensive
player. I wonder what Taikai's coach, Kokonoe-oyakata, advised him the night
before the match? I wonder what he will advise poor Taiaki this time around?
Chiyotaikai in action. He's doing his specialty, tsuppari (open-palmed thrusting). This photo shows him against the Hawaiian Yokozuna, Musashimaru. Just for the sake of saying it, Chiyotaikai won this particular match. Click to view the whole photo.
Anyway, this interesting match did not get rid of the sorry fact that I
missed most of today's action. But I didn't shoot myself yet, since there was a
pre-midnight wrap-up of the whole afternoon show in a TV program called the Sumo
Digest. Here, almost three hours of action is squeezed into a thirty-minute
rundown. Last resort, but it was better than nothing. At least I could see a
glimpse of some of the two dozen matches that came before Kotonowaka's, two
dozen cool matches that I unwittingly missed.
So I wait, again with much anticipation, for that pre-midnight round-up.
In order to pass away the time, I decide to fire up my PC and type my initial
notes for Day 1 of the Osaka basho. I think you know what's coming next.
I am very busy typing up my complaints about my own stupidiy, of course, that
when I come off of it, I realize that it is already past 11 PM! I reach out with
lightning speed for the TV remote, and zoom in to Channel 7. There, before my
very eyes, is no other than-- Kotonowaka. Leaving the ring. Oh man.
Now I sign off and go drown myself in Diet Coke.
Related Link Nihon Sumo Kyokai - Japan Sumo Association's English website. You can see Kotonowaka's stats here, as well as a close-up photo of him wearing keshomawashi (decorated apron).
