The Ringmaster
Set to lead a Member-exclusive sumo tour this month, former wrestler Konishiki reflects on the hardships and rewards of Japan’s national sport.
Ambling out of the CHOP Steakhouse elevator, Konishiki’s tree-trunk legs bow beneath his sizeable frame. He stands for a few minutes in the lobby, before taking a breather and leaning against the wall.
But squatting down in the classic pre-battle sumo stance, the 1.84-meter, 180-kilogram former wrestler is as sturdy as a dump truck—his nickname during his glory days as sumo’s first non-Japanese to reach the second-highest rank of ozeki.
Retirement isn’t typically kind to sumo wrestlers. Their ailments, such as arthritic knees, are more common in retirees, and the average life expectancy for a wrestler is between 60 and 65.
Since his wrestling days ended in 1997, Konishiki, 51, has lost nearly 100 kilos, thanks, in part, to gastric bypass surgery. Besides constant knee pain, he says he is healthy.
“A lot of [younger wrestlers] I had around my time, they stayed in sumo after 13 or 15 years, but the whole life of sumo is so hard [and] now they can’t quit,” he says. “They are so afraid to quit because there is no life after sumo.”
Thirty-three years after his first professional bout at Ryogoku Kokugikan, the Hawaiian native, born Saleva’a Atisano’e, will share his sumo story with Members during a VIP tour of the sport’s national stadium in Tokyo, which hosts three of the six grand tournaments each year.
Years after having his topknot ceremoniously cut off during an emotional retirement ritual, Konishiki remains involved with sumo, traveling the world as a lecturer and motivational speaker. It was during his travels abroad immediately following his retirement that Konishiki, who weighed 287 kilograms at his peak, realized that he needed to shed some pounds.
“I told myself I’m not going to lead my life like this,” he says. “As I got older, I had to lose the weight. It was going to catch up to me someday. I am just lucky that [for] a person at my weight, I never had heart problems. Even today, I don’t even have diabetes.”
Born to Samoan parents, Konishiki says his family upbringing helped him succeed at sumo and win more than 730 bouts. Since the demands of the sport meant that he had to miss many weddings, anniversaries and even the funerals of his sister and grandmother, spending time with his family has become a priority.
He frequently travels to Hawaii to see his father (he wasn’t able to visit with his mother before she died) and a growing number of nieces and nephews.
“I still think about the days I didn’t see. People passed away, people close to me. Those are the sacrifices people don’t know about,” says Konishiki. “On the ring is all the easy stuff. It’s what you do off the ring that is kind of hard. You are part of an association that has its own rules and regulations that you have to abide as much as you can, which is OK.”
Konishiki was the youngest of five sons among 10 siblings. Since Samoan culture is matriarchal, sons are expected to cook and clean. Konishiki wasn’t allowed to sit at the same dinner table as his parents until he was 40.
In high school, Konishiki already weighed around 170 kilos. He could run a 40-yard dash in 5 seconds, the same as the average NFL offensive lineman, and dunk a tennis ball in a basketball hoop.
“I’m an anomaly,” he says. “I’m not just your everyday fat boy. Don’t compare me to your Big Mac guy on the street because I ain’t. I worked myself to be big.”
He is also an accomplished musician (he has recorded 13 albums and performs 200 concerts a year), who was offered a scholarship to Syracuse University. Not forgetting his roots, he has a charity, the Konishiki Kids Foundation, which helps disadvantaged Hawaiian youth.
The success of Hawaiian-born sumo wrestler Takamiyama in the 1970s brought attention to his fellow islanders. Konishiki was recruited to the same stable, Takasago, at the age of 18. He didn’t tell his parents he was moving to Japan until a week before he left.
“Leaving my family was huge because no one knew what I was getting myself into. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t know nothing about sumo,” says Konishiki. “My family was not financially well off. …I didn’t see myself burdening my family. I knew if I came everything was free.”
When Konishiki began training, he couldn’t speak Japanese, and his sparring partners were all younger. Still, he had to treat them with respect because they joined the stable before him. Practice started at 5 each morning. Konishiki would rise at 3:30 to train by himself.
“In the sumo world, you don’t speak. You have nothing to say. …You are taking orders 100 percent of the time,” he says. “I was glad it was like that because I could focus more on my sumo practices, which is the only place I could let out my steam. …Seniority didn’t mean nothing in practice, so I could go out and really take some heads off.”
Konishiki recalls donning the traditional mawashi belt (“this G-string thing”) for his first bout. Facing a younger, smaller opponent, he says he was determined not to be embarrassed by defeat. He won, and kept on winning. He holds the record for the fastest rise to junior champion.
In 1984, he debuted in the top makuuchi division and was soon beating such legendary wrestlers as Chiyonofuji and Takanosato. By his 12th tournament, though, the sport started to take its toll, and Konishiki was carrying an injured tailbone, a busted shoulder and knee problems.
“Injuries come with the territory, but what it does is it changes your mentality and how you carry yourself during practice,” he says. “It slows you down, but at the same time it encourages you to learn more about different techniques. I had to find other ways to win matches.”
Konishiki reached the level of ozeki in 1987. Five years later, he had won three tournaments.
“When I was at my best, all I hear is, ‘Boom, boom, boom.’ To me, my opponent is going to be out in three hits,” he says. “I picture my opponent when I’m sitting down: the way he sits, the way he stands up, the way he grabs his salt, the way he throws his salt, the way he drinks his water. I picture him [with] 100 percent focus. I never think of losing. I always think of blowing this guy off the ring in three hits. …The confidence comes from American sports—the killing instinct.”
Konishiki retained his ozeki ranking for six years, eventually receiving a demotion in 1993 after two consecutive losing records. By 1997, his knees were shot, and he was suffering from gout and a stomach ulcer.
“I was living on painkillers. I was taking cortisone shots in my knees every Friday just to survive,” says Konishiki, who became Japanese in 1994. “That’s the sacrifices I am paying for right now. All the pain I live with every day comes from all that overdoing. …Sometimes I was coming straight from the hospital to go straight to tournaments. It was rough. But I wanted to do it to the end. I wanted to just hang in there and see. Once you leave sumo, you leave sumo. You can’t come back.”
In the years after Konishiki bid farewell to the ring, sumo was embroiled in a series of scandals, including the fatal beating of a teen wrestler, a misbehaving grand champion and accusations of rigged bouts.
Mark Buckton, who covers sumo for The Japan Times, says the sport has worked hard to repair its tarnished image. “Sumo took a lot of heat. You had the media attacking sumo, and rightfully so,” he says. “But in the last two or three years, it has been almost impossible to buy tickets.”
Referring to Ryogoku Kokugikan as a home away from home, Konishiki says the sport is lacking the fierce rivalries that existed during his time as a wrestler. But he says he expects sumo’s popularity to grow ahead of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics and is encouraged by a number of exciting, young wrestlers.
Konishiki was unceremoniously forced into retirement by the Sumo Association two days before the end of the 1997 Kyushu tournament. He says he found out from his wife, who learned of his retirement on the news.
“It still kind of kills me just to think about it. I had my whole family flying over to see my matches at the end of the tournament, and no one saw me wrestle,” he says. “It’s all good, we grow. [Sumo] had done so much good for me and my family. It opened a lot of doors for me. …I am glad I was given the opportunity to be a part of the sumo ring.”
Sumo Experience with Konishiki
A sumo legend-led tour to Ryogoku Kokugikan for a day of wrestling action, followed by a chankonabe dinner—the staple of wrestlers—at Michinoku sumo stable.
Sep 20 and 21
2–9pm
Ryogoku Kokugikan
¥100,000* per couple
Adults only
Sign up online or at Member Services
*Excludes 8 percent consumption tax.
Words: Nick Narigon
Photo: Kohji Shiiki
