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upon
controlling her
giggling, “but wrestlers need time to concentrate and create an
atmosphere.” Kentaro, another language student, chuckled: “We can’t
have a one-minute shikiri-naoshi.
It is important for the wrestlers to put on a performance.” Kentaro did
not mean that it was “important” for himself, though. Like Yu, he
firmly believed that the older generation had a right to enjoy their shikiri-naoshi, and that this right should not be impinged upon by shinjinrui.
Of course, the notion that outsiders are not really supposed to
influence insiders has been rife throughout Japan for centuries. But
21st-century sumo should view this notion with trepidation. Kentaro, Yu
and many of their contemporaries often imply that their enjoyment of
sumo can only be increased if the enjoyment of older people is
compromised, and that they would rather resign themselves to disliking
sumo rather than risk antagonising their elders. Sumo will never
recruit hoards of youthful admirers while this perception exists. Rather, sumo must stress to shinjinrui that their interests are not diametrically opposed to those of older fans, and must assert that the shikiri-naoshi offers something for everyone. Whereas older fans simply appreciate every aspect of it, young people should be particularly fascinated by the expressions on wrestlers’ faces as they size each other up. The older generation may detest Asashoryu’s scowling looks in his pre-match build-up, but younger fans find them both intriguing and amusing. They should coo when wrestlers venomously slap their own bodies and become |
curious
as to how effectively the power behind such slaps can be deployed on
the opponent. They should be anxious to know what each wrestler would
like to say to the other, were they permitted a K-1 style press
conference. In short, the religious aspect of the shikiri-naoshi should be downplayed to shinjinrui, in favour of highlighting the gripping tension and scintillating mental warfare on display. Under no circumstances should the shikiri-naoshi be shortened. Older fans already react angrily when the NHK broadcast substitutes shikiri-naoshi coverage with special features and interviews. In the West, though, sumo must tailor its rituals to the type of audience it wishes to attract. It if seeks approval from those intrigued by all things far-Eastern, a four-minute shikiri-naoshi is perfect. If, on the other hand, it seeks to win over those who are purely interested in combat, a shorter build-up is strongly advised. The full-length shikiri-naoshi worked beautifully in front of 11,000 UK fans at the Royal Albert Hall, most of whom were acquainted with it through Channel Four’s sumo broadcasts. It also impressed the majority of supporters at Grand Sumo Las Vegas in 2005. Conversely, when America’s World Wrestling Entertainment ambitiously attempted to stage a sumo bout involving Akebono in front of 20,000 pro-wrestling fans craving for choke-slams and suplexes, even one-minute of salt-tossing was met with derision. However, a similarly-minded audience which gathered to witness the 2006 US Sumo Open was suitably placated by the fact |
that
amateur sumo requires combatants merely to bend their knees and clap
once before wrestling. As long as some element of the build-up
remains – even if just a tantalising glimpse – sumo can simultaneously
respect tradition while outreaching to fans from pastures new. K-1 competition The task of re-endearing sumo to young people was made decidedly more difficult by the events of 31st December 2003. On that New Year’s Eve, around half of Japan saw a former yokozuna, Akebono Taro, bludgeoned to defeat by Bob Sapp in a K-1 fight. It is impossible to underestimate the impact of Akebono’s painful pounding on Japan’s impressionable shinjinrui. Sapp had become a cult figure in their eyes after transferring his outgoing personality to a series of TV commercials. He was seen to represent the forces of modernisation, whereas Akebono’s sumo history aligned him with the forces of tradition. The shinjinrui not only saw modernisation win, but also saw a rather average K-1 fighter defeat a yokozuna, sumo’s symbol of invincibility. Their suspicions of sumotori no longer being the toughest warriors in Japan were spectacularly reinforced, while the yokozuna dohyo-iri – designed to portray the yokozuna as sheer magnificence personified – was in danger of appearing little more than bravado. Kenji, the chunky teenager from Next |
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