on this day: 1957

["Rowan Klein" <rowanchan@hotmail.com>]

Asahi Evening News, Tuesday 2nd February 1957

Changes and Chances for Sumo
by Santoro

   The main question facing sumo, the traditional Japanese wrestling, is 
how to perpetuate the "unprecedented sumo boom" now being witnessed. In a 
certain sense, not pessimistic, sumo is said to be in a serious crisis.
   Is the present boom only another of the periodic upsurges which have 
happened half a dozen times in the past century, i.e. short-lived delusive 
breaks in the general picture of this receding or declining ancient game? Or 
has it come back definitely to stay?
   Many sumo fans, sponsors and promoters as well as those living on the 
profession are pondering the problem. What may be the real nature of the 
extraordinary upsurge of public favor for sumo in the past year or two? What 
may or should be done in the way of reform or improvement to take full 
advantage of the favorable tide and ride on to enduring fortune after such 
long and dismal adversity of the prewar ad postwar years?
   What are the facts of this alleged sumo boom today? The first thing to 
occur to every mind is the fact whereas in the old days the regular sumo 
tournament was a twice-annual event, i.e. in January ("spring meet") and in 
May ("summer meet"), it has been increased to four times, and, since this 
year (1957), to five times a year, as a new one has been inaugurated at 
Fukuoka, Kyushu.
   These are called "Honbasho" ("principal place"), i.e. regular because on 
the results of their contests are based the new banzuke (wrestlers' lists), 
showing their ranking or their promotions and demotions, annually published, 
while those games given in off-honbasho sessions at various places are known 
as "jungyo" (circuit business) of pure exhibition matches.
   Once upon a time each sumo session lasted for "ten fine-weather days 
only," there being no games on rainy days as they were held in an improvised 
roofless structure. Today each session is made of 15 days, rain or shine, 
thanks to the colossal Kokugikan amphitheater Tokyo boasts. Thus we will 
have, from this year on, 75 days of regular honbasho sumo wrestling as 
against 20 days or less of former times.
   There is talk of adding two more honbasho, i.e. in Osaka and Nagoya 
which many believe are near-future certainties. Then why not one in Sendai 
too, the uncrowned capital of northeastern Japan, the home of so many 
celebrated sumo champions in the past?
   In such an eventuality we will have over 100 days of "official" sumo a 
year, and if we add to them the jungyo or traveling show-business games in 
between, sumo will have become a year-round sport attraction. No wonder if 
people should fear it might have a deleterious effect on the political 
liberty of this country as their attention would have to be drawn more and 
more to the wrestling of sumo and less and less to those of the Diet.
   The last (January) session at Kuramae Kokugikan was a greater success 
than was ever anticipated, the huge dome being filled to capacity from the 
first to the 15th day, and it was almost everyone's complaint there were not 
enough tickets to go round. As usual there were some surprises, the biggest 
being the sweeping all-victory record of 30-year-old Chiyonoyama which shone 
all the more brightly because of the incredible comedown of all his 
opponents who were "unconquerable" last year.

Sumo Fans
   There can be no doubt that radio, television, daily press and other 
mass-media facilities were chiefly responsible for boosting sumo and keeping 
up popular interest. All Japan from end to end will talk about it while the 
game is on at Kokugikan, even those who have never seen one sumo bout in the 
flesh.
   You may stray into one of those democratic "pay-as-you-are-served" 
drinking saloons in which Asakusa and Shinjuku abound any afternoon during 
the sumo season and will see it packed to overflowing with patrons, each 
with a bottle of sake or beer before him, all eyes turned in one direction, 
riveted on the TV screen unrolling game after game of sumo.
   Tables of the hardier tipplers bristle with forests of bottles: and they 
will call for more drinks if a favorite sumo wins, to celebrate the victory, 
and, if he is downed, do the same to console themselves. The last game is 
over at 5.30 or so and lo! the whole wide space is emptied amid a roar of 
motley voices, jubilant and dolorous.
   We have heard of women workers at business firms and factories raising 
funds out of their humble earnings to buy an "ornamental apron" for their 
favorite sumo; of little boys of eight or nine going to bed supperless in a 
surly mood because their favorite was beaten that day, and other sumo and 
sumo-fan stories enough to confirm the reality of the craze sweeping over 
the land.
   Count all the sports and games already in vogue, of track and field, 
swimming, skiing, etc., and it is all the more amazing that sumo should come 
back at this time, not indeed to replace, but to go side by side with, the 
rest. So numerous and diverse are the competitive games and entertainment, 
manly and effeminate, indoors and out, that there is always room for yet 
another, be it new or an old one revived, provided it is made sufficiently 
intriguing to capture public imagination.
   Just now professional sumo wrestlers number 820 and they are on the 
increase. Every champion sumo receives, like a popular singer, many 
"fan-letters," among them a number from enthusiastic sumo aspirants. 
Chiyonoyama says the 85 per cent of his fans are kids and he is, by the way, 
a great lover of children.
   Once he heard of a boy fan of his, laid up with illness, shouting 
Chiyonoyama in delirium and he went over to see him at the hospital, and the 
boy was overjoyed and speedily got well. Isao Matsumura which is his name, 
is one of Chiyo's grown-up fans today.

How Champions Are Made
   From time to time you hear of a giant baby born in some part or other of 
this elongated island nation, who, in the opinion of his parents or 
neighbors, will make a good sumo some day. Such a boy will cut a prominent 
figure at the local amateur matches so that he and his parents are apt to be 
hypnotized into thinking he has the makings of a future Yokozuna. By and by 
some champion sumo visits the town when the prodigy may be presented to him 
and accepted as a promising pupil.
   Such was the typical way champion sumo were made in the past, and the 
same pattern remains, there being no regular sumo-training school, though 
there is some talk about it already. Thus it is said good sumo are born, not 
made.
   Other conditions are deemed necessary, of course, to make good sumo, 
such as, for instance, "don" or stupidity, i.e. in other matters, implying 
single-minded concentration on the profession, "kon" or tireless training 
and "un" or good luck. Not the least attractive part of a successful sumo's 
happy lot is the mosaic alternation of ups and downs. He has to die, like a 
politician, many times before he becomes Yokozuna - Straw Belt - which 
spells "unconquerable.`'
   There may be a case, however, where even a Yokozuna is flattened on his 
belly, literally and spiritually, never to rise again apparently. That is 
just what happened only two years ago to none other than Chiyonoyama, the 
Emperor-cup all-victory champion of the 1957 New Year.
   Chiyo was born a son of a fisherman at Fukushima, in Hokkaido. As a boy 
he was vested with exceptional physical strength and at the local juvenile 
matches found none to beat him. When at 16 he entered sumo-dom he weighed 22 
kan measuring six feet two.
   Within a few years he was promoted to Makunouchi, that is, high-ranking 
wrestlers "inside the camp." A few more years and he was among the first 
three champions (sanyaku). Exactly 10 years after he became sumo he captured 
the highest title of Yokozuna - a record in sumo history.
   That was in 1953 when he was 26 years old.  In September of the 
following year he was married to Mitsue-san, college-educated daughter of 
one Sakunoshin Ito who owns a traditional Japanese restaurant, Kagetsu, in 
Osaka, himself an all-out Chiyonoyama fan.
   So prospered the happy young champion. In the autumn tournament 
following his marriage Chiyonoyama had a record of 11 wins and four losses - 
not so bad after a honeymoon!

Inferno
   In the New Year tournament of next year (1955) good fortune seemed to 
avert her face. He had caught cold, his fever rising to 40 degrees. Yet he 
won four times and lost four times, and stopped there, absent for the 
remaining seven days. This was his first humiliation, indeed his worst 
record, since his marriage.
   So in the March semi-honbasho tournament held in Osaka, the home of his 
wife and Kagetsu, he determined to make amends. For one thing, he had the 
hearty support of his Osaka fans who regarded him now as their son-in-law.
   On the first day he won against Tokitsuyama. But on the second day he 
lost to Matsunobori. On the 3rd he was again beaten by Futasegawa. On the 
4th he was downed by Shimizugawa. Thus for four successive days the 
unconquerable was conquered.
   It was unthinkable. Maybe something queer had happened somewhere. A 
miracle, a joke, a freak of fortune, said Osaka fans who, still unbelieving, 
thought Chiyo would certainly stage a surprising comeback on the 5th day to 
rove it had been only a nightmare and all would be well again as before.
   All Osaka hugged the TV and listened to radio. His opponent was 
Wakanohana, another Yokozuna, and holder of as proud a record as Chiyo's.
   "If you are beaten this time - fifth in a row - you had better not 
appear on the ring any more," said a friendly fan. Just as grim was the 
attitude of every other Chiyonoyama fan that afternoon as they awaited the 
fateful minute.
   Mitsue-san his wife, who was staying at Kagetsu with her parents, dared 
not join his relatives sitting before the television. She sat alone in her 
room, awaiting news, good or bad, as it might be brought to her by some one. 
She waited a very long time, too long, for nobody volunteered to bring her 
the bad news.
   That evening Chiyonoyama did not come home in time for dinner at 7 p.m. 
as usual. After 9 o'clock he returned and in gloomy silence at before the 
table on which his meal and favorite drink, beer, were prepared. He took up 
the beer-glass with a dull, heavy hand like one sunk in deep reverie.
   Soon he took the writing brush and wrote out two documents - one a 
letter requesting leave of absence for the remaining days (nine days to go) 
of the tournament, and the other a resignation of the rank of Yokozuna. He 
spent nearly two hours in writing out the two compositions.
   Next day all Osaka, nay, all Japan knew what had happened, and the more 
cynical of sumo fans sighed as they muttered "one more prodigy to fade from 
the ring - an example of the ruthless vicissitudes ruling Sumoland."
   Chiyonoyama's resignation was turned down, for there was a rule that 
Yokozuna could not be demoted - could only retire.
   Consulting a physician he was found suffering from inflammation of the 
spine and sprained right leg and in May was hospitalized at Saiseikaibyoin.

Doctors' Analysis
   Chiyonoyama, the zensho (all-victory champion of 1957), when asked at a 
press conference as to how he had done it, said: "I never dreamed I could 
score such zensho this time. It was unbelievable.
   "The thing which puzzles me still is - if I have done it by my own 
strength. It is clear I have won with my power, yet I feel a bit skeptical 
about it."
   Many experts, evaluating his achievement, agree that he had won this 
"once-in-12-tournament" zensho by dint of his "tsuppari" and "yotsugumi," 
both meaning "sustained resistance" rather than by subtle skill in combat 
action.
   Another view, taken by physician fans, is that his recent success must 
be ascribed to the fact that he had taken a good, long time, recovering from 
his illness, physical and psychic, caused by his historic debacle of two 
years ago.
   "Most wrestlers, when down with illness or injury, are impatient to 
resume work, can hardly wait till they are quite well. So they take risks, 
even gamble with their sheer physical prowess against the odds of nature.
   "With Chiyonoyama in 1955 it was different. He had indeed tasted 
something of hell and decided to recover body and soul and took an 
unconsciously long time, reorganizing his resources and nourishing he roots 
of his power. In short, his well-advised policy of good rest and 
recuperation has done the trick."








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