It's a big, square building, and feels high and airy. We're pretty much at the top of the second, highest tier, but we have a clear view of the ring.
The ring itself is square, with a roped-off circle that constitutes the actual wrestling area - you lose if you hit the ground or cross the rope. The ring is covered in sand or sawdust, occasionally topped up with a 'watering can'. The nicest touch is a 'roof' suspended several yards above the ring, as if it were a traditional bout many years ago in a small outdoor ring with a roof to keep the elements out.
Getting tickets is fun - as with Ghibli, we used a convenience store machine, but this time we got our hotel to write down instructions so an employee could help us! It's still a bit of an adventure as you turn up hoping that your random tickets will be accepted. You get a full day if you want it, from 830 to 1800, with amateurs in the morning and the two professional divisions in the afternoon - we turned up at 2pm and the hall was fairly empty. The lower tier is very expensive and has mats (for flexible locals to sit cross-legged) rather than seats. Not too dear where we are, and on-the-day tickets are even cheaper, but there aren't many of them (though I don't think those rows were full).
It's also the least-policed sporting event I've ever been to - not even a cursory search going in, tickets checked only at the entrance, and there doesn't seem to be anyone checking what seat or even what area of the arena you sit in, unless the rightful owner of a seat challenges you. We could and probably should have moved at least near to the front of the top section, which was never more than half full.
Bouts can be fast and furious. They're full of ritual and playing to the crowd. Each division is preceded by a little parade by all the wrestlers in it, who are divided into two "sides". As far as I can tell, over the course of the basho, each contestant on one side will take on each contestant on the other side once, one bout per day. The guy with the best record wins (the Emperor's Trophy, at stake here, is huge, rivalling the Stanley Cup for sheer size), and there are also prizes for technical merit etc.
Each bout has the same build-up. The two contestants enter the ring, face the crowd and lift one leg at a time. Then to their corners. They throw salt into the ring. They squat, facing each other. Back for more salt (I think this is also used for grip, much like chalk). Face each other, limbering up. Squat, looking ready to go. But no, back to the corners briefly. Then squatting in the centre again. Will they go? No, corners again. (For the big bouts, they use this time to really fire up the crowd.) Finally they seem ready. Maybe a false start or two if one goes too soon.
Then they're off! Charging at each other from a couple of yards apart. Sometimes it's over in a flash - the biggest, fattest contestant we saw set off, carried on going and was out of the ring in a couple of seconds. But generally, the higher the level, the longer the bout. A few are epic struggles, seeming to last much longer than they actually do. Sometimes one sumo will end up with his heels against the boundary straight away, but escape through strength, balance and the occasional dancing feet. Sometimes they launch into a series of slaps and attempted neck holds. Sometimes they will lock together in the centre of the ring, waiting each other out, trying to get the push without losing their balance. They could be pushed back or tripped forwards. It's a delicate 'balance'.
There are a few crowd favourites. Mostly it's hard to tell, or the crowd is agnostic.
There's occasional controversy as both go to ground or outside the ring. The referee makes a decision, but then 5 judges and the referee confer in the ring, while in our ears the commentator is watching a replay and thinks the signalled winner's elbow may have touched down first. No third umpire here though, and the decision stands.
It's a strange, unforgiving day for these wrestlers. They wait for their bout and that bout could be over in 2 seconds. One misjudgment, one slip, and 24 hours to wait for their next chance. We've come on the ninth day, and by now most have a fair idea what they are playing for. A few contenders are 7-1 or 6-2 and are looking to win the tournament, albeit with a way to go. Some are struggling. Others have a fairly even record. I don't know the stakes here - some kind of promotion and relegation operate, I think - but you can imagine that towards the tournament end some don't have much to play for. (There's a good chapter in Freakonomics on massive amounts of cheating in sumo.)
Bout of the day features an Estonian, Balto - both he and his opponent are 7-1 and need a win to keep a share of the lead. I took a few photos of this one, as both go out of the ring with Balto the clear winner.
There's a clear step up in quality from amateur to pro to top level, and the bouts tend to be longer. I guess that aggression and power are everywhere but the top guys are better defensively. (Some of them are a few years older than me!) There are some real mismatches even at the top level, according to the commentator, who says it would be the "upset of the year" if a particular sumo wins the last bout of the day. He duly loses in about 4 seconds.
It's good fun, but probably suffers a bit to the casual observer because there's no real sense of story to it. In isolation, some bouts are very entertaining (though others are anti-climaxes after a relatively long build-up). There are 20 bouts at the top level alone, but the real interest is in how each wrestler is doing in the competition, his past record against his opponent, etc. You get a bit of this from commentary if you hire a cheap radio, but the commentary is for TV and misses out the most basic step, ie which wrestler is which!
Still, an interesting afternoon out, a cool stadium, and about the highest level of sumo you can see, so well worth the effort.
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