Sports and the World Traveler
My sister joined the Air Force at about the age of 20, and as soon as was possible requested an assignment overseas, and she’s been overseas ever since – first in England, then in Japan, and now in Germany. (She met her husband in England, and the story of their meeting, separation, re-unification and marriage has always struck me as the perfect plot for a romance novel, but since this article is about me, and not them, I won’t share it with you.)
My sister has been kind enough to invite me to visit her on a regular basis, and since I live with her it cuts down drastically on such things as food and hotel bills, so I can afford to stay for months. Thus, I have the leisure time to sit around and relax, reading books and watching television if I feel like it, which is a luxury that the harried tourist who has only a couple of weeks in which to pack everything in, does not possess.
One thing I watch is sports.
I’ve always been in to sports – I played softball as a kid, still play tennis, and of course I bike everywhere that it is possible to bike. I refuse to support millionaire players by buying tickets to games, but I watch plenty of professional baseball, football, and to a lesser extent basketball, on TV.
When I first visited England, my goal was to see a lot of plays in the West End, and visit lots of historical sites – such as any site that had a connection to Richard III (a particular favorite of mine). But there was some kind of ‘Test Match’ happening while I was there – the British and the Australians were dueling it out in the game of cricket, and it caught my interest. I won’t say I ever understood the complexities of the gameâÂ?¦or that it was especially fun to watch, but it was fascinating to watchâÂ?¦basically because of the “bowlers” – the equivalent of the pitcher in baseball.
The bowler stands at one end of the pitch, runs forward to a certain spot, stops, and launches the cricket ball at the wicket, which is protected by the batsman. All the batsman has to do is make sure the ball doesn’t hit the wicket, but if he can hit it away, far enough so that he can run to the *wicket on the other side (while the batter there runs to his wicket), then his team scores points. And what I found fascinating was to watch the various bowlers and their various styles of bowling – they all had their idiosyncratic ways. Some of them were rather tortuous and I always wondered how they could throw the ball without doing themselves a serious injury.
When I went to Japan, my sister introduced me to the national sport of Sumo, for quite by accident I had arrived just as a basho (a tournament) was going on. There are only six tournaments a year. Each tournament lasts for 15 days, and all of the ‘rikishi’ or wrestlers, fight one bout a day. The minimum goal is to win 8 bouts out of the 15, so that they don’t get demoted. This is the goal that most of the rikishi reach. But for the elite, the men at the top, they vie for promotion to ‘sekiwake,’ ‘ozeki,’ and, very rarely, to the ultimate champion, the ‘yokozuna.’
At first blush it wasn’t that intriguing. Most of the riskishi are very, very overweight – but deliberately so, because they use that weight to shove their opponent off the dohyo (ring) and to prevent their opponent from doing the same to them. And they wear what’s called a mawashi, a six-foot long length of silk that looks kind of like a swim suitâÂ?¦from the frontâÂ?¦and a thongâÂ?¦from the back, with many folds wrapped around their waists.
While I prefer men to have weight proportionate to their height, I soon got used to the sight, but I admit that the main reason why I got interested in the sport was because of a rikishi named Terao (who has since retired). He was what was known as a ‘small’ rikishi – he only had the slightest of paunches, and his musculature was not obscured by fat. And he was quite handsome!
Because he was smaller (weight-wise, not height wise) than the majority of the rikishi, he used a technique called tsuppari, in which he launched a non-stop barrage of slaps at the chest and face of his opponent, attempting to knock him off balance, get behind him, and shove him out of the ring. (Most of the rikishi grapple at close quarters, and maneuver for a hold so that they can trip or throw their opponent out of the dohyo, and most bouts only last a few seconds.)
You might have seen a basho shown on a sports show if you have cable, but the pared-down events you see are in no way representative of a real basho, because the pomp and circumstance of the event is cut away and all you ever see are the bouts themselves. This severely ruins the mood, in my opinion. (On the other hand, I can’t stand to watch golf, but if the coverage would just be pared down to watch only each player’s final putt to finally sink the ball at each hole, watching the game would be much improved.)
At the beginning of the basho, the lesser rikishi, termed the jungyo, do their bouts. After they are finished, the “major league,” or ‘makuuchi’ of rikishi march onto the dohyo, perform a few symbolic gestures, and then march out again. Then their bouts begin.
Each bout is full of symbolism and tradition. A ‘referee’ calls the names of each rikishi. They climb into the dohyo and perform a few ritualistic gestures, culminating in throwing salt on the ground (for purification purposes). They hunker down as if they are to fightâÂ?¦and then don’t. They stand back up, get more salt, throw it onto the ground, hunker downâÂ?¦and once again just stand up again. Finally, third time’s a charm, and they launch themselves at each other. Last man standing wins.
After fifteen days, the man with the best win-loss record wins. In a perfect basho, it’s a close race, with the final bout deciding the outcome of the tournament. But it’s always possible that a rikishi can have a 1- or 2-point lead over his closest competitor, in which case there is no drama. ButâÂ?¦there’s always lesser drama. If rikishi are on the cusp of demotion, their final bout which will determine if they have a winning or losing record for the tournament is quite important. Rikishi who are trying to be promoted to sekiwake or ozeki have to do more than have a winning tournament, they have to win decisively (as do the yokozuna. The only difference is the yokozuna can never be demoted. If he does not perform well, his only option is to retire.)
So, I became fascinated with the history and culture of Sumo, and waited eagerly for each basho. Not only to see how Terao did (and unfortunately he was past his prime and usually was fortunate to get an 8-7 record) but also a couple of other small rikishi who were quite fun to watch. Two famous Hawaiian rikishi were fighting while I was there – Akebono, the first Hawaiian yokozuna, and Musashimaru, the second.
And now here I am in Germany, and it looks like my streak is about to be broken. Soccer is the national game – indeed the FIFA world cup is going to be taking place from June 9 to July 7, 2006 and much is being made of it, even in this small town of Mittelbrunn in which I live – but it just doesn’t capture my imagination. I watched the opening match this afternoon, between host Germany and Costa Rica, and it just didn’t excite my imagination.
Unlike cricket or sumo, soccer is played in the U.S., and is shown on television, so I was relatively familiar with it. Admittedly, the guys wear decent shorts instead of the baggy bloomers that American basketball players wear, and they run around non-stopâÂ?¦but a game that can last two hours with no points being scoredâÂ?¦is simply a boring game. Perhaps some of the fault lies with the television coverag. 90% of it is long shots of all the players…it’s difficult to see the ‘dribbling’ and footwork which is what I thought might be fun to watch….
As I type, the evening game is taking place: Poland is playing Ecuador. But in channel surfing, I have come across the UK Darts Tournament being broadcast on SkySports… middle-aged men, almost but not quite as overweight as sumo wrestlers (but with less excuse), standing about six feet away from a dart board and tossing 3 darts into (apparently) certain pre-determined parts of the board. Now that clearly takes a lot of skill, and I think I’ll watch it for a while.
However, whenever one visits a country one must come home with souvenirs, so I’ll visit a sports store tomorrow and pick up a baseball cap with the FIFA 2006 logo on it, which I will wear with pride upon my return to the States.
Fortunately, while I’m here, there’s tennis, hopefully more darts, and I’d like to see a little fencing. Fortunately through internet sports sites like MLB.com I can keep up with my baseball teams (go Ichiro, go Mariners!), so it’s all good.
