Quotes of the Day
Posted Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Throughout the 1990s, American-born sumo wrestler Akebono was the biggest thing—literally and figuratively—to hit Japan's national sport in decades. In a contest where size matters, he was superlative, standing 2.04 meters tall and weighing a record-breaking 235 kilograms. But it wasn't just his gigantic stature that distinguished the former basketball star from Kaiser High School in Oahu (where he was known as Chad Rowan). Although a few foreign wrestlers—such as fellow Americans Konishiki and Takamiyama—had previously excelled at Japanese sumo, Akebono reached the highest echelons of the sport. He helped make 1990s sumo an unprecedented epoch of popularity, glamour and internationalism. By the time he retired from active competition in 2001, he had captured 11 championships and become the first foreign-born wrestler to achieve the sport's highest rank of yokozuna.
Akebono's lofty status within Japan's most traditional sport was the primary reason his press conference at Tokyo's Imperial Hotel two weeks ago was such a shocker. Rather than continue to train young wrestlers as an apprentice stable master, the 34-year-old star declared that he was quitting the sumo world entirely to become—of all things—a combatant in Japan's flashy, crass and highly popular K-1 kickboxing league. Explaining his decision to leave the solemn, rarefied air of sumo and become a modern-day gladiator in one of athletics' most violent spectacles, Akebono said: "It has been nearly three years since I retired from [competitive] sumo, but my zeal for combative sports never cooled down, and my desire to fight again increased."
The aging warrior who can't resist the siren song of the ring—it's an attractive narrative, one custom made for press releases and photo ops. But as Japan's tabloid press has since reported—and as Akebono confirmed in an interview with TIME—that's only part of the story. The real reasons behind Akebono's sudden and acrimonious departure involve money and power, particularly Akebono's difficulty in securing and paying for a permanent spot at one of the sport's 53 training stables. Akebono says that he would have preferred to remain a sumo elder instead of joining the K-1 circus, but he believes that sumo's governing body, with its byzantine financial restrictions and insular culture, effectively forced him out. "The Sumo Association is still a closed society," he says. "If they considered me a very big asset, why didn't they make it easier for me to stay?"
In order to remain in sumo, Akebono would have had to purchase the rights to a permanent stable-master position by the time his five-year retirement grace period expired in 2006. Because there are only 105 stable-master slots in all of sumo, the prices for such training rights can easily approach $2 million. Famous retired wrestlers who want to become stable masters usually have a network of patrons to help cover the costs, but Akebono's official supporters' group disbanded in 1998. He cites the poor economy for his lack of assistance, but the group's former head recently told the Sunday Mainichi weekly magazine a different story. In sumo's highly traditional ways, righteous behavior outside the dohyo (or at least the appearance of righteous behavior) matters far more than in other sports, and this former patron claims he disbanded the association because he was unhappy with Akebono's extracurricular activities. These included the very public dumping of a popular TV-personality girlfriend, as well as getting engaged to his wife after she was already pregnant.
To Akebono, money would be less of an issue if wrestlers made anything close to what other world-class professional athletes make, but, he snorts, "Wrestlers make chump change." Indeed, reigning yokozuna—the very pinnacle of the profession—rarely earn more than $500,000 per year, and whether active or retired, wrestlers are routinely restricted from appearing on television, doing advertisements or simply having (let alone promoting) side projects such as restaurants or branded merchandise. In contrast, Akebono will receive $1-$2 million for each of the two K-1 matches he has committed to so far, and he has now freed himself from most other restrictions on cashing in on his fame.
Akebono claims he is not bitter with the way the sun is setting on his landmark career. "I am not disappointed," he says. "I am where I am today because of sumo."
But then he relates one bit of fallout from his press conference which clearly still stings. "When I announced my retirement, I got a lot of phone calls from the sumo elders saying, 'Good luck,' or 'Do your best,'" he says. "But not," he adds after a slight pause, "'Please stay.'"
- Jim Frederick | Tokyo
- Retired sumo superstar Akebono is back in the arena—as a boxer