when training is over, and doing all the cooking and the cleaning up of the establishment. And what do the women do, you may ask? The answer is simple; there are no women, apart from the master's wife. Sumo-dom is strictly stag.
Taro and his fellow-neophytes rise at the crack of dawn and, it might be thought, start off the day by downing a hearty breakfast. Nothing of the sort! There is no breakfast. The youngsters tumble out of the sack around five or six-before the streets are aired-clean up the ring, and get going with their warming-up exercises. Their elders, as befits their rank, lie abed a little later, but they too are usually on the scene by eight at the latest. The seniors put the youngsters through their paces, tip them off as to their faults, and so on and so forth. The master of the gym is mostly in attendance to keep a watchful eye on the proceedings, but in his absence this duty is delegated to the top-ranking wrestlers.
The entire forenoon is devoted to various forms of training and practice bouts-and all the while not a bite of food. Spartans they are indeed, but then they have to be. This is no life for a weakling, and if a lad can't stand the pace, he simply drops out. It's rough all right but Taro will not be bullied, for this regime, feudalistic though it may sometimes seem, is not militaristic. The life is tough, but not brutal; if a boy can't or won't learn, he won't get on. That is punishment enough.
Morning training done, the lads have to wait on their seniors at the mid-day meal, after which they can immerse themselves in the welcome tub and rub their manifold bruises, and then, at long last, help themselves from the common pot of stew. The meal over, Taro and his mates have the rest of the day to themselves and it can well be imagined that they make it a day of rest; indeed, with their energy used up and no money to burn, there's nothing else for it. If the lads wanted to kick over the traces they wouldn't have the wherewithal; for them wine and women just don't exist.
When Taro approaches the dizzy heights of stardom, possibly ten years later, and can afford to take unto himself a wife, he is allowed to reside in his own home, of course, for too many wives would clutter up the gym. During a big tournament, however, even the married wrestlers often prefer to move back into the gym for greater convenience. Perhaps, too, for greater ease of mind.
Incidentally, the Taros of the future will lead somewhat different lives from those of their predecessors for, in line with the gradual defeudalization of the sport, a Sumo training school has recently been established, to be attended by scrubs from the various gyms.
CHAPTER 4
Grand Tournaments
The basho or grand tournaments are the World Series of Sumo. Currently there are staged six grand tournaments a year-the New Year tournament, held in Tokyo, the spring tournament in Osaka, the summer and autumn tournaments in Tokyo, the July tournament in Nagoya, and the November tournament down in Kyushu at the city of Fukuoka. The two last-named are recent additions.
These joustings have a long history-and few would ever guess where the first one on record was held. It was in the precincts of a temple on the outskirts of the ancient city of Kyoto, a former capital of Japan. That was way back in the Kansei era (1789-1800). Only one tournament was held a year, and it could hardly be called official. And they wrestled only five days. Still, it was a beginning.
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