Sumo is resistant to change.
Do you feel that in the 21st century it might need to change to survive?
The ancient Japanese ritual of sumo is at a crossroads:
Marred with years of controversy and scandal,
the sport is struggling to attract new talent.
Why do you think it is that fewer young people today are going into sumo?
The hard life of a sumo wrestler appears out of step with the 21st century.
This year, the sumo association’s summer recruitment drive had to be cancelled,
as nobody had applied to take part.
I’ve come to the Ryogoku district in Tokyo, the home of sumo,
to find out what Japan’s national sport is doing to modernise,
while staying true to its traditional shinto roots.
I’ve been granted rare access to one of Tokyo’s 46 ‘stables’,
highly disciplined environments where sumo wrestlers train, eat, sleep and live.
Famous for its cats, Arashio stable is also home to 12 wrestlers.
But on arrival at 6am, I didn’t get much of a welcome.
The traditions of sumo have remained the same for hundreds of years.
This slapping ritual casts demons out of the sacred ring – which is then purified with salt.
After a formal introduction, I was allowed to speak with the coach, Ōyutaka.
How has sumo changed since you were a wrestler?
This is Sōkokurai, one of Arashio’s highest ranking wrestlers.
At the most recent grand tournament in November,
Sōkokurai won all seven of his matches,
becoming champion of his division in the process.
Is there a danger that sumo becomes a relic of the past
because it is so steeped in tradition, and not a living, breathing thing?
Another factor in the demise of this iconic sport
is its long line of scandals,
stretching back over 10 years.
Match fixing, violent bullying and links to organised crime
have all impacted on sumo’s modern reputation.
In late 2017, the Mongolian champion Harumafuji was forced to resign in disgrace
after attacking a junior wrestler on a night out.
In April, female medics were told to leave the ring
when they battled to save the life of a local politician,
who had collapsed while giving a speech.
This caused outrage in Japan, and threw gender into the spotlight.
According to the rules of sumo, women aren’t allowed inside the ring.
But they are allowed to wrestle – as amateurs.
Here at the Asahi University sumo club,
eight female wrestlers train alongside their male counterparts.
Do you feel that women should have the same access to sumo as men?
If you agree, put your hand up.
You think so? Just you? Nobody else?
There’s been a lot of news recently around women’s role in sumo,
and I wonder what your take is on that
and whether you feel women should be able to compete professionally.
I wonder if you see a day in the future
when Ryogoku might be home to a women’s stable?
Historically sumo has been dominated by Japanese wrestlers,
but more recently the stars of the sport have mostly been foreign born,
with Mongolian wrestlers at the head of the pack.
Foreigners have to assimilate into the local culture quickly
but arrive in Japan dedicated, and hungry for success.
Back at Arashio after the morning training session,
I was invited to share a meal with the wrestlers.
What is this?
We have a declining population, and fewer people coming into sumo,
what’s the answer?
Do you all think then that it’s important to have foreign wrestlers
come in to make up the numbers?
What is that?
You keep that one.
With such restrictions in place, foreigners alone can not make up
for the lack of wrestlers coming through.
But in spite of all its problems,
sumo is currently enjoying a boon in popularity among fans.
Can you explain what this resurgence in popularity is down to?
The sumo joshi phenomenon has helped drive renewed interest in the sport.
In 2017, all six flagship tournaments sold out for the first time in 21 years.
The other big driver of the sport’s modern success – tourism.
Here in Ryogoku, attractions like the Eko-in temple, shops selling everything
from snacks to socks,
and theme restaurants serving the traditional sumo stew, chanko nabe,
all bask in the reflected glory of the modern home of sumo, the Kokugikan arena.
Chika Yamane is an actress, TV presenter and self-identifying sumo joshi.
I went to meet her at the arena’s sumo museum.
So you have a lot of signatures here.
You’ve got everyone!
And there’s Sōkokurai.
There’s been a lot of talk recently about women
not being able to access professional sumo.
Do you think that will change? Should it change?
I understand that sumo is experiencing a bit of a surge in popularity
and that’s down to, in no small part, by the rise of the sumo joshi.
Could you explain to me where that came from?
Back at the stable, the wrestlers were slowly waking up
from their afternoon nap, and preparing for a rare night out.
Your face there, it’s so good. It’s such a picture.
That’s you!
It's me.
Tsuna magazine is the brainchild of recovering punk musician Kazma Takeuchi.
It’s been credited with opening up the world of sumo for a new generation of fans,
thanks to its eye-catching design and informal style.
I wanted to know how Tsuna tackles the sport’s long list of controversies.
Are you presenting a sanitised version of the sumo world?
Isn’t punk and the punk spirit all about changing the status quo?
This desire for something fixed in a changing world
is one shared by many of the people I spoke to.
They don’t want sumo to lose sight of its historical traditions
but to attract the new participants it needs to maintain its place in the Japanese psyche,
it must surely do more to adapt. And fast.