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the
wall. Coach sat to his left and the other Japanese member of our group-
a substantial donor to sumo- sat next to him. Azumazeki looks good for
someone who made a hard living with his body for twenty years. His left
ear is cauliflowered and his hands, when resting, take on the slightly
clenched look common to athletes engaged in sports like wrestling,
judo, and sumo. At 62, he is still a massive man with a furrowed brow
and serious eyes. Sitting in his presence, listening to the hoarse
whisper of his voice, I felt like I was in the company of the
Godfather. Later, as we reminisced over the visit, we frequently
referred to the “Hawaiian Don”. I expected the rikishi in the heya to be glued to the TV as it was near 4:00 when we arrived. Juryo was wrapping up and makunouchi was getting set to start. A few of the rikishi were lounging lazily in the proximity of the TV but they seemed more interested in their manga than the day’s sumo. The oyakata kept one eye on the bouts but he was also fully engaged with us. After the usual pleasantries, the conversation turned to the construction of the temporary heya. An extensive list of donors covered two large walls of the tatami mat room and the oyakata explained who some of the people were. In the background, the makunouchi division bouts were getting underway. Coach turned to me and told me to take his place next to the oyakata in order to conduct my interview. I dutifully swapped seats and got out my list of questions. The other foreigners huddled a bit closer in order to hear the oyakata’s raspy voice over the steadily growing din of the young rikishi getting dinner started. He made a joke about not being able to speak English, only Pidgin. We chuckled and I told him that Pidgin was good enough. |
I
asked the oyakata what sumo was like for a foreigner back in 1964. He
said that he considered himself a rikishi first and foremost and didn’t
think of himself as foreign. He came to Japan to be a rikishi and, in
that role, race or nationality didn’t matter to him at all.
Perhaps it was a coping strategy for the young Hawaiian since he had no
one with a similar cultural background to relate to. He said that he
was occasionally called ‘gaijin’ by some of the rikishi he trained with
(especially by rikishi from other heya) and he would make it a point to
beat them soundly. He said he would throw a little something extra into
a slap or shove when confronting these taunting rikishi, and he
therefore let his actions speak for him. He summed up a training
philosophy that seems to be carrying today’s foreign rikishi to the top
of the sport: train hard, work hard, and let everyone see that you are
here to make it.
He said that he didn’t feel ostracized by the media or the sumo fans during his career. Even after being the first foreign rikishi ever to win the yusho (1972) and having a congratulatory message from President Nixon read during the award ceremony (the first time English was ever spoken during the presentation of the Emperor’s Cup), he said he still felt that it wasn’t a matter of a foreigner winning a yusho. He was still, in his eyes, simply a sekitori. The oyakata went on to talk about how the culture of the sport was also different back in the 1960s. His reminiscing was similar to most elders who look back on the ‘good ol’ days’: the oyakata of the Taisho and Showa eras were a lot stricter with their rikishi, who showed more respect to the donors and fans who came to the heya for visits, and there was a lot less money in the sport. He lamented the lack of respect and drive in rikishi today and said that |
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the
culture of the sport has changed as a result of the increase in money.
He pointed to the example that the rikishi in his heya never train as
hard when he is not in attendance. Takamiyama’s fighting career ended in 1984 and he started Azumazeki beya in 1986. He is a Japanese citizen (as of 1980) due to the fact that the NSK passed a rule in 1976 saying that only Japanese could run a heya. He didn’t seem too troubled during our conversation over renouncing his original nationality; it came across simply as another step he had to take to remain in the sumo world. At one point in the conversation, the oyakata got up and excused himself. He returned with several newspaper clippings and a few magazines. Most of the pieces were memorabilia from his fighting days: a picture of him receiving the Emperor’s Cup (with an insert in the corner of President Nixon’s congratulatory address), a picture of him standing ringside with a hand full of salt, Takamiyama in a convertible flanked by his tsukebito with his hands raised in triumph, and a recent newspaper article featuring the oyakata’s son (who works for the New York Yankees). I read the congratulatory announcement from Nixon aloud and the oyakata, who was talking with another member of our party, stopped and said, “That was Nixon’s speech.” He was clearly proud. As an oyakata, he loves it when a new rikishi enters his heya. He said he feels excited at the possibilities of his new charge and it hurts him most when rikishi leave. He told stories of going to the parents’ house of rikishi who have left or run away from the heya in order to try to entice them to return. Although the success rate is almost zero, “once they decide to Next |
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