Tokyo: Day 3

If your knowledge of sumo wrestling is limited to repeatedly hitting the punch button until Edmund Honda performed his hundred hand slap, you might have the wrong idea. The match would have been over by then. And I wasn't expecting hadoukens or shoryukens, but these guys are done in seconds. So if you do a little math and I tell you that I watched six hours of sumo wrestling, a lot went down. A lot more than flesh into clay.

As is the case with many things Japanese, sumo involves a lot of custom and class division. You can't wear your hair a certain way until you've earned it. If you win a match, you kind of squat in the ring for a few seconds while the loser leaves the arena. There are also time limits that extend as the higher ranks fight. These time limits are used to squat and look at your opponent before you decide to get back up and throw salt into the ring. You repeat this routine any number of times before the two wrestlers decide they're ready. Also, the ring is a lot smaller than expected (4.55 meters in diameter), so you end up with the NBA blueprint: Huge men in tiny places.

There are six two-week tournaments a year, but this one was special because it marked the return of Asashoryu, the grand champion yokozuna from Mongolia who feigned injury in order to return to his homeland. There, he was caught playing soccer (!) on his "bum" leg. A grand champion sumo wrestler playing soccer? I can't think of a joke.

Asashoryu, of course, would wrestle in the final match of the day. The posturing and intimidation period ran quite long for this bout, so lots of salt was thrown. My boy Asa went for a head/neck grab of sorts, but failed and somehow got turned around. If I learned anything in the six hours, I'd say "turning around" is not a good idea. Asashoryu was promptly SHOVED from the ring face first into the surrounding clay. He may have landed on a judge, but I couldn't quite see over the flood of red seat cushions that went flying into the ring. This is what you do when a yokozuna loses. It is said that sumo wrestlers resemble giant babies. I will not argue with what is said. Mr. A looked stunned and crestfallen as if he had just poopied his pants. Poor Asa. I wonder if he later cried into his bowl of chanko.