Notes of a Sumo Wrestling Fan

ONE afternoon at a sumo wrestling match in Tokyo, I let out a wild cheer when the only American wrestler in the competition—Jesse Kuhaulua of Maui, Hawaii—threw his opponent to win his bout. A Japanese fan, who was sitting on the tatami mat in the next box, chuckled and reached over the low railing between us to shake hands. As I took his hand, I said: “Yoku gambarimashita, ne,” which means roughly “he really did well, didn't he?” My neighbor chuckled again and replied, “Eh, gambarimashita, na” or “yep, he really did.”

During the rest of the afternoon, we compared notes on the sekitori, or senior wrestlers—the Japanese fan was for Wajima and I am for Takanohana—and he laughed at my painful efforts to puzzle out the Japanese program. We parted after the match with expressions of good wishes and hopes to meet again at another sumo tournament.

Now, I don't know this man's name, nor he mine. And although both of us surely would like to attend the cclorful New Year's Tournament, which begins today, these events are so mobbed that we probably will never cross paths again. But we did become friends the day we met because we recognized in each other the spirit of a true sumo

fan.

Being addicted to sumo wrestling in Japan must be something like being an aficionado of bullfighting in Spain. To begin with, it is an acquired taste. To the uninitiated, the sport seems slow and ponderous, with too much posturing and not enough action. But after a while, the posturing takes on meaning and builds suspense and the swift, brief matches are seen as packed with superbly executed moves.

Even for those who don't understand sumo and who will be in Japan only for a short time, an afternoon in the Kokugikan Arena in the Kuramae district of Tokyo can be splendid. The visitor witnesses a brilliant display of Japanese pageantry and ritual, an exciting exhibition of skill and strength, and spectacular show of Japanese discipline.

Beyond that, it's pleasant, if a little cramred, sitting on the mat in that small box with three other people, making friends with other fans, drinking beer or soda pop, munching sandwiches or yakitari (skewered chicken) or cold rice balls wrapped in seaweed and yelling for Washuyama because he's a runt among behemoths, or for Kaiketsu because you like the color of his belt.

Today sumo wrestling is the most popular, in terms of the number of spectators it attracts, of Japan's martial receives. While he may not outdo the highest paid athletes in America, he comes close.

Thus, when the yokozuna, wrapped in the thick white robe that is the symbol of his exalted rank, steps into the ring atop the clay mound, a singing hum sweeps through the spectators’ seats. He Is attended by a retainer and a sword bearer, both of whom squat in stoic immobility while the champion goes through his dignified, solemn and intricate posturing before the match. The fourth man who steps into the ring then is the senior referee, dressed in the brilliant kimono of several centuries ago and carrying his badge of office — what .appears to be an ornate paddle with long tassle hanging from the handle.

Ritualistic Acts

Ritual will continue throughout the day and is an integral part of the sport. Before a bout, each wrestler washes his mouth with water to purify himself and he throws salt into the ring to purify the area of combat. He claps his hands to summon the gods, raises his arms to show that he has no hidden weapons. When the match is done, he bows before leaving the ring if he is the loser, and squats to hear his name sung out if he has won. When patrons have bet money on the match, the winner will also receive his share of that from atop the referee's paddle—and he will wave a purifying blessing over before taking the money.

There is even poetry in sumo—in the ring names of these man mountains. Takanohana is the noble flower. Kitanofuji is north of Fuji, Japan's sacred mountain. Kotozakura is the harp of the cherry blossom. Wajima uses his own family name, an uncommon practice, and it means island of harmony.

The rules of sumo are relatively simple. The bouts take place inside a ring about the size of a boxing ring—only the sumo ring is really round instead of square as with boxing. The area for battle is defined by a thick rope imbedded in the clay and rising just couple of inches out of it. Once the fight is on, a wrestler wins by forcing his opponent either out of the ring or to touch the clay with any part of his body except the feet. It is a one‐fall match, which is the reason most contests go so fast, A side‐step to dodge the opening charge, a clop on the back of the opponent hurtling across the starting line, and a fighter earns a quick victory as his rival goes sprawling in the clay. Other matches take three or four minutes as two evenly matched rivals maneuver to gain leverage on their opponent's belt. During the bout, the wrestler may strike with his open hand but not with his fist. He may trip but not kick. He may push or thrust with his hands but may not grab the hair nor the throat in a way that will choke. He may grab the belt anywhere in the middle but not below the waist.

The tactics of sumo are fascinating. It takes a while to recognize the moves and holds and throws but once the spectator begins to see them, a whole world opens up. Sumotori can be divided roughly into two types—the thrusters who use their prodigious strength and weight to shove their opponents off balance, and the grapplers who go for the belt and win with arm throws. Occasionally, a sumotori has both shoving strength and belt technique, but most rely primarily on one or the other method of fighting.

Me, I'm a belt man. It is a thing of joy to witness my favorite, a trim but powerful ozeki, or champion, named Takanohana, come out of the tachi‐ai, or initial charge, with his legs crouched and his head up and his arms slashing away at his opponent Since Takanohana is smaller than most—and devastatingly dangerous on the belt—most of his adversaries try to thrust him out with tsuppari jabs.

Seeking a Handhold

Takanohana's best, and sometimes only, hope is to break through the thrusting and to get one or both hands on his opponent's belt, and when he does, he is capable of a dozen powerful throws, with either hand.

The prettiest of all sumo maneuvers, and maybe the most exciting, too, is Takanohana's utchari. It is a desperate, last‐second attempt to snatch victory from almost certain defeat and is called upon even when he has both hands on his rival's belt but has been shoved back to the edge of the ring by the Weight of his opponent. But there Takanohana plants his feet, heels against the top of the rope, every muscle in his thick legs straining to lift his opponent by the belt. Then, using his opponent's momentum, Takanohana twists at the very last minute and tips the opponent off balance so that he hits the clay first as they both go crashing out of the ring.

One of the best thrusters in the game is Jesse Kuhaulua, the Hawaiian. Fighting under the name of Takamiyama, Jesse is the biggest man currently in sumo. He weighs a tidy 365 pounds and has the power of a freight train. But his long legs put his center of gravity up in the air so that smaller, lighter and chunkier Japanese can get underneath him and lever him out.

Even so, Takamiyama is among the most exciting and popular sekitori, or senior wrestlers, in action today because he is a spoiler. He is so erratic that one never knows what's going to happen when Jesse leaps off at the tachi‐ai. He has been dumped by the lowest men in the upper division but has beaten, at one time or another, all of the senior wrestlers. Jesse is also the first and only foreigner ever to havp won a tournament and the coveted Emperor's Cup, which he did in July, 1972. Further, Jesse and John Wheeler, an American’ sumo enthusiast living in Japan, have written a book about Jesse's experiences entitled “Takamiyama: The World of Sumo,” published by Kodansha International. It is a lively and thoroughly engaging book and a first‐rate introduction to the sport and the life

The star of sumo today is a 25‐year‐old yokozuna named Wajima. He has had a remarkable rise, making it to the top a good five years before those few who make it ordinarily do. He Weighs 260, a trifle light for a grand champion. But Wajima, who became the 54th yo kozuna in history last June, seems destined for greatness. His concentration is total and his arm throws, especially when he gets migi‐yotsu, or right hand on his opponent's belt, is like a lightning bolt loosed by Thor.

Each of the tourneys In which the sumotori fight is fifteen days long, starting and ending on a Sunday. There are six tournaments a year, three in Tokyo and one each in Osaka, Nagoya, and Fukuoka, which is on the western island of Kyushu.

The great shortcoming of sumo, from the visitor's point of view, is that it's extremely difficult to get tickets for the tourney. There are basically two kinds of seats, the masu‐sehi boxes in which four people sit on tatami mats, and Western‐style seats in the balcony. The charge for the masu‐seki runs from $4.25 to $12.85 per person and for the Western style seats from $3.20 to $4.65 apiece. Sometimes the hotels can help their guests get a Western‐style seat even though they are often sold out weeks before the tourney opens.

Even more difficult are the ntasu‐seki, which are the seats where it's really fun. They are all controlled by the cha‐ya, or tea shops, which line the long main entrance to the sumo arena. The cha‐ya are owned by retired senior wrestlers who sell the tickets, a block at a time, to corporations and wealthy individuals who use them to entertain clients and friends. Thus, the only way to get one is through a Japanese friend. If you're in Tokyo on business and mention that you'd like to see sumo, your host may be able to accommodate you.

If you can't get to the arena itself, the matches are telecast on color television each afternoon for the two weeks. On television, of course, the intricacies of the action can be seen more clearly than in the arena itself, just as with professional football in the United States. But somehow it's not the same, just as watching the New York Jets from the comfort of your living room is not the same thing as being in Shea Stadium,