Cruel fate denies me a regular dose of my secret love, as there are only five tournaments a year and only one of those is in my city. But I've still been able to go twice now, and it's easily one of the highlights of my year. Far from being a simple slapfight between two fat men, it's one of the most elegant yet intense things I've ever seen in my life. I have never cared about any sport before this.
You haven't lived until you've seen a smaller, lighter wrestler - 'lighter' in this case meaning about three of me, plus a dog - face off against a gargantuan rippling behemoth (there are no weight classes in sumo), and watched the lithe David dart around his opponent like a wasp, trying to tire out his Goliath, until Goliath gets bored and nonchalantly flicks him out of the ring. Or seen the second-best sumo in the world charge at a junior wrestler, who simply sidesteps out of the way and allows him to fall on his pillowy face. Learned to notice the different styles - those who prefer pushing, those who like grappling, the fast and slow movers. The gymnastic prowess cloaked beneath all those pops and folds of flesh. Learned to glean the different personalities from the way they slap their thighs. Cheered for the local favourites (Endo!) and the underdogs (poor Ikioi).
I just really like sumo. Please watch some.
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