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There’s a balletic quality to sumo wrestling: Two competitors must lock into an embrace together and, using nothing but their wits and bodies, try to force the other outside of the ring. Crossing the boundary—even without touching the ground—means defeat. Like all the best athletes, sumo wrestlers pull double duty as artists. The ancient practice and national sport of Japan prizes strategy over strength, discipline over power. Houston has its own small but dedicated community, with wrestlers congregating at Shōgeki Sumo Dojo, a martial arts training space in the Heights. Since officially launching in 2022, the dojo has gained fans across the city, and has performed at events such as the Japan Festival and Asia Society Texas Center’s night markets. On Saturday, August 30, Houston’s top sumo competitors return to Asia Society’s stage for the 19^th Annual Texas Classic Sumo Tournament.

“People have automatic excitement and interest in sumo wrestling. They’ve heard of it, but they don’t really know that much about it,” says Michael Buening, Asia Society’s director of performing arts and culture. “[Shōgeki’s] approach is giving an educational cultural background to the sport and its importance in Japanese culture. It’s fun, it’s exciting, but it’s also a cultural learning experience.”

This is the event’s second year at Asia Society. Tournaments were previously held in San Antonio, a city with a 20-year legacy of nurturing sumo traditions. When that community shifted its priorities away from hosting, Shōgeki stepped up to make sure Texas wrestlers could still compete. Dojo director Nicholas Tôn estimates 40 participants annually, including six from Shōgeki.

For wrestling fans more used to American styles, sumo’s lack of weight classes may seem a little confusing. Competitors of all sizes go head-to-head against one another, and Tôn notes that this highlights just how much skill and devotion to the game can create a sumo champion. In the ring, raw physicality only goes so far. “It’s everyone versus everyone,” Tôn says, “…It’s even better whenever you see the much lighter person win. Just seeing a huge upset like that, seeing someone throw twice or more of their body weight, that’s what’s very exciting for a lot of people.”

The audience loves having their expectations played with, too. Sumo’s reputation as a couple of heavyset men in loincloths (mawashi) and topknots (chonmage) stems from the belief that a larger size makes a wrestler harder to push outside the ring. But a visit to the tournament or Shōgeki during a practice session shows that the art of sumo extends past the familiar iconography. Dating back to 712 CE, sumo is rooted deeply in the Shinto religious tradition. The first  wrestlers were deities: Takemikazuchi, the god of swords and thunder, and Takeminakata, a god whose domain encompassed agriculture, water, and wind. It later became a training technique for samurai, members of a warrior class kept as retainers for wealthy landowners. Such a career involved equal parts brain and brawn, making sumo an ideal practice to keep the swordsmen sharp (pun intended). “Sumo is a glimpse into the past… It’s extremely traditional in the way they try to preserve so much of their tradition…the way they talk, the rituals that they do,” Tôn says. “Even in the ring, that reflects a lot of the stuff that was done in the past.”

Both Shōgeki and Asia Society also use the tournament to highlight facets of Japanese culture beyond the ring. Attendees can browse vendors selling Japanese clothing, crafts, toys, and food. Some of the wrestlers will also serve chankonabe, a hearty fish or chicken stew that, while deemed healthy, was created to be consumed in large quantities to help facilitate weight gain. At sumo schools, junior students prepare it for their seniors, eating only after the others have had their fill. At the tournament, Shōgeki’s team plans to dish up the warm comfort food to fans. Wrestlers are expected to live by the credo known as shingitai, a Japanese phrase that best translates to “heart, body, and technique” (“mind” and “spirit” are sometimes swapped in for the word “heart”). Service to guests is considered an act of “heart,” further extending sumo within its broader Japanese context. It’s a deeper aspect to the sport, revealing what sumo means beyond an athletic spectacle.

“People come away with a real appreciation for the sport,” Buening says of the tournament. “Last year, when we held the championships here, so many people came out, and [said], ‘I didn’t know what to expect,’ or ‘I never knew this about sumo,’ or ‘I’m not into sports, but I love this.’”