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Of Mettle and Medals
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Byambajav, or Byamba for short, was discovered by former yokozuna Onokuni, who was in Mongolia recruiting wrestlers to train at his heya, or sumo stable, in Japan. After gathering 30 of Mongolia’s brightest young athletes and testing their strength and flexibility, Onokuni settled on 15-year-old Byamba, who was the Mongolian junior champion in sambo, judo, and Mongolian wrestling at the time. Upon arriving in Japan, Byamba had to prepare himself for a sports culture that was and is decidedly xenophobic. To this day, heyas only allow one foreign-born athlete to stay and train. But the champ took it all in stride. “It wasn’t a big deal,” said Byamba through a translator. “The only real Hard? Calling a stable workout hard would be like calling a blue whale somewhat stocky. A sumo wrestler’s day starts at five in the morning with a cup of tea, some quick stretching, and then an hour of continuous shiko o fumu, lifting up the leg so that the knee is parallel with the hips and at the height of the neck, balancing in that position, and setting it down smoothly. Sound easy? Stand up and try it for fifteen minutes. Still easy? Tape a couple of gallons of milk to each thigh so you can feel the weight of a sumo wrestler’s muscle-laden legs. After another fifteen minutes, you’ll be begging your hips to fall off. Shiko is followed by an hour and a half of full-contact sparring and a halfhour of butsukari geiko, which basically translates to “crash-test dummy.” One of the stable’s higher-ranking wrestlers will stand in the middle of the ring while a “pledge” runs full-speed into his gut in an attempt to move him. Imagine sitting in a car, setting the parking brake, and spotting a hummer 20 mph before it crushes you. That’s the basic visual of a butsukari practice. After a 100 shiko warm-down, the pledges scurry off to make lunch while Byamba prides himself on his work ethic and his competitive drive, qualities he feels give him an edge during matches. “I usually do triple the training,” he said. “When everyone else is resting, All of the hard work paid off and Byamba’s professional career took off with the power of a Lear jet. He was unstoppable, consistently beating opponents ranked higher than him. By the time he was 18, he was the highest-ranked wrestler in his stable and he seemed destined to challenge that other Mongolian sumo wrestler, Asashoryu, for the title of yokozuna. His sumo name Daishochi, which translates to “to rise or transcend,” appeared prescient. But even with all of the hard work and skill, the successful cultural adjustments, and the gaudy match record, Byamba could not yet consider himself in the sport’s upper echelon. As with so many Japanese institutions, Byamba had to not only prove he could win, but have the diligence to do so for many years before he could ascend to the top. Then, and only then, could he endear himself to the Japanese public. But after a knee injury knocked him out of the game for a stretch (in sumo, a lengthy hiatus can take years to overcome because of the amount of wrestlers who will leapfrog you in the standings), Byamba found his career at a crossroads. Should he invest the rest of his career and continue wrestling professionally in Japan, or practice sumo abroad and pursue other athletic ventures? In the end, he chose to compete internationally. “I was ready to move on,” said Byamba. “There are other things that I With his experience in Japan, Byamba felt that he would, if you will, run away from the competition at the international level. But he was surprised to find his opponents more polished than he expected. In Japan, sumo wrestlers benefit from seeing the same opponents and the same styles. In amateur sumo, one knows very little about their opponents until they step into the dohyou. Byamba may not have known much about his opponents, but he certainly knew enough to beat them. He skyrocketed up the international ranks, winning the World Championships at the age of 21. Precociousness and dominance could easily get to the head of a young competitor, yet Byamba remained driven to improve. “A lot of the international sumo wrestlers are training at Japanese heyas and the sport’s popularity is increasing all over the world,” he said. “So naturally the level of competition will be increasing. I must be ready.” Now 22, Byamba has the relaxed confidence of a young, world champion with the whole world ahead of him. He says he will maintain his title for as long as his body will allow and will continue to work to get better. But he hasn’t forgotten why he left pro sumo; he has plans to resume his training in Mongolian wrestling with visions of one day being the national champion in that discipline as well. And as for any post-wrestling plans? “I’ve never really thought about it. When it gets to that point in my career, I’ll think about it.” The young man will enter Saturday’s competition with a newfound optimism and faith in people’s good nature. After seeing the announcement about the gold medal in the Rafu, a good samaritan who lives in Little Tokyo called Byamba to say he’d found it. The precious medal was returned and the finder graciously and steadfastly refused to accept the reward.
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