As you grow older you begin to realize that most memories retained from youth are trivial in nature yet collectively serve the purpose of visualizing the whole; in this manner I remember my grandfather. A thin, wry man with a penchant for driving cars fast and a taste for fried foods, his favorite being potato croquette. 

A late draft in the war effort; he cooked meals for the Japanese Navy and later controversially hired Korean workers to labor with him in his rice fields (If you've ever seen the magnificent, almost neon green, rice plants produced in the summer, you've been blessed). 

I remember him most clearly kneeled in front of his television set with his remote stick with which he expertly stabbed the set to change the channels, his other hand drawing a lit cigarette back and forth. In this manner he'd watch the sumo; quietly kneeled with a cigarette and a glass of cool tea with momentary breaches of silence if something were to excite him.

Quite simply drawn, sumo pits two colossal men in a circular ring, the objective being to topple your opponent or expel him from the ring. What is the fascination with sumo? Understandably enough it's not the most approachable of sports; for one it is only practised professionally in Japan and secondly you're more likely to spot a unicorn than catch a sumo tournament abroad (at least in the West). 

Yet it is a tradition spanning back some 1,500 years; it's miraculous enough that such a niche sport is still practised with the same customary practices in the modern day. Everything from their hairstyle to their battle dressings, their communal training and feeding methods, these are men bred to the traditions of the past centuries in a highly industrialized country fit with all the conveniences of modern society. The simple fact of its survival and vibrance is cause for interest in itself.

It's true it takes some time for a bout to establish itself, and each bout can hardly last a few seconds to a minute, yet it's not the length of the contest that measures superiority, it's the craft.

As one wrestler remains squat in anticipation of the other, it is hard not to lose yourself in the exhilaration of the moment; for that is the task of the wrestler: to tactically react or act correctly in the momentary situation. For the consequence of a bad action or reaction may result in a not-so-elegant tumble off the dohyo (ring platform) accompanied by a two foot drop (something I take to be the equivalent of falling as a result of a mistimed dip during your wedding dance).  

Some just find enjoyment in seeing abnormally large men colliding. If you're able to watch you can see the absolute joy of some spectators as their wrestlers labour their way to and from the ring. They're like Boeing Jumbo Jets taxiing on the runway; awkward in practical movement yet elegant when practising their purpose. 

It's hard to understand the impact inflicted in the short seconds of a match, yet the replay is usually detailed enough to understand the damage inflicted when the palm of a 330lb man is thrust into the face or, possibly worse, the ear.

It truly is a spectacle to witness this contest of strength and, most importantly, wit; for there are no weight limitations which require some wrestlers to rely more on the correct application of their strengths rather than the brute utility of a battering ram.

To contrast this physicality, suspended above the ring is a roof which resembles a Shinto shrine, the religion from which sumo finds its origins. In history and tradition people are identified; sumo is birthed from both and subsequently providing for both the fan of sport and those with a taste for anthropology.

Chankonabe is the diet of the sumo. Nabe dishes are meals prepared in a communal pot resting at the center of the table. The pot is filled with a simmering broth (usually fish, kombu (salty kelp) or in some cases chicken, to which you would add vegetables (mushrooms, cabbage, scallions, carrots) meat, and noodles. To this apply an ice cold beer in a frosted glass; heaven is possible. 

Chankonabe is a variety of the nabe dish, usually prepared with a chicken broth, to which is added carrot, daikon (japanese radish), scallions, shimeji mushrooms, leeks, cabbage, gobo (burdock root), tofu, chicken thighs, beef and finally udon noodles. This is accompanied by rice, tsukemono (japanese pickled vegetables), dumplings and beer. One could expect nothing less than jet fuel to power the sumo, and chankonabe is a calorie short.

If ever the opportunity arises, I beg you to give sumo a chance. Don't write it off as Americans do, "fat guys in daipers", or scoff it off as a Japanese idiosyncrasy or an incomprehensible foreign right; witness it as an example of a practice built in tradition and retained in respect to the history of a people.  Only in this way will we retain our human right of remembrance.  

At the grave site of my late grandfather and family in Takibe, Japan, I wish I could have remembered something more significant, yet my memories will remain in sumo, the channel stick and potato croquettes.  

P.S. Off subject I must recommend a Japanese comfort food I still crave and cook to this day, yaki-onigiri (grilled rice balls). Onigiri are triangle shaped riceballs usually containing umeboshi (pickled plums), salted salmon, spicy cod roe, katsuobushi, or really any number of things that may delight you.

Yaki-onigiri is just the onigiri grilled with a soy sauce glaze; simple yes, but the crispy shell achieved by the grill or the fry pan is nothing short of divine; and yes, in this case beer applies as well.