Each week sports reporter ROBERT CARRY looks at martial arts from around the world. This week it’s Japan’s traditional Sumo
You can only write a martial arts column for so long before eventually mentioning that old Japanese favourite, sumo wrestling. Sumo is mentioned in historical sources dating back as far as the 8th century, although the form described was a bit more crude than the current version. Back then, the idea wasn’t to push your opponent off his feet or out of the ring, as it is today. Rather, the aim was to kill him with your bare hands. A more moderate set of rules, as well as the iconic ring that is used today, came in around the 16th century.
The competition sport’s longevity means that, inevitably, sumo wrestling carries with it a huge variety of strictly regimented ritual elements, such as wrestling spirits before bouts and the scattering of salt for the purification of the ring. Professional sumo wrestlers are even required to live in communal ‘stables’ where all aspects of their daily lives – from the clothes they wear to the food they eat – are dictated by a code handed down from the all-knowing Sumo Association.
Although somewhat on the wane since the rise in popularity of mixed martial arts tournaments such as K1, sumo wrestling is still followed religiously by millions in Japan.
A number of countries close to Japan – most notably China, Mongolia and Korea – have their own wrestling traditions similar to sumo. Sadly, the influence of sumo never stretched as far as this far-flung Western European outpost, and our overweight males rarely get to enjoy the sort of adoration lavished upon their Japanese counterparts.
That said, Ireland did enjoy a brief flirtation with the sport that stemmed from the chance meeting of two groups of Irishmen in a Zagreb youth hostel in 2004. The group came to the drunken conclusion that they were sportsmen and as such, could compete and succeed in any sport they liked.
Eighteen months later, this mob of headers turned up in Nepal for the 24th annual World Elephant Polo Championships where they managed to convince the World Elephant Polo Association that they were an experienced team of horse polo enthusiasts deserving of one of the eight places in the competition. The association acquiesced, leaving the group with just three remaining problems – they didn’t have the 10,000-euro entry fee, they hadn’t a clue how to play the game and, crucially, they had no elephants.
Somehow, this determined band of Hiberno-headcases overcame these difficulties and, giggling into their sleeves atop their borrowed beasts of burden, took to the field. What followed was irrefutable proof that God has a sense of humour – the Irishmen won the tournament and were crowned world champions of elephant polo.
Buoyed by their success, the group – led by Colin Carroll and Graham Little – decided to establish Sumo Ireland, in the hope of receiving certification from the Japanese Sumo Association which would then permit them to enter a team in the World Sumo Champion-ships 2006 in Osaka.
After months of wrangling, the Japanese eventually fell for it and, without ever training, Colin Carroll took to the ring. Unfortunately, Team Ireland’s fortuitous Nepalese win was not to be repeated and Colin was catapulted into the gathered crowd inside two seconds.
The group – and this is no word of a lie – went on to pass themselves off as the Irish bobsleigh team for a tournament in Latvia, during which they lined out against the Russian Olympic squad. While in Riga they also took on an ice hockey team despite being unable to skate, before nipping into Poland on the way home where they chanced their arms as a new Irish boy band.
Sadly, after their stunningly impressive mickey-take, Sumo Ireland is now defunct, and its website now redirects to some horrible search engine that gave my computer a virus. The nearest thing to sumo wrestling you’re likely to get in Ireland today is if you pop along to a university freshers’ week – the students might let you have a go with the inflatable sumo suits they stick on before going toe-to-toe in a kiddies’ paddling pool full of Dutch Gold.
What I love about sumo wrestling is that it takes morbidly obese individuals who might otherwise be bedridden and unable to leave their homes without the fire brigade removing the roof and winching them free with the aid of heavy-lifting machinery, and turns them into formidable fighters. The idea of taking someone’s weaknesses and turning them into strengths is a noble one, but it rarely comes to pass in any meaningful way. Not so with sumo wrestling.
