Sumo Wrestling

It's morning in La-La Land, and the usual characters are roaming the star-studded sidewalks of Hollywood Boulevard. Supergirl is here; so are Catwoman and Zorro, clad in black and trademark masks. Suddenly, an entourage of massive men in long robes, split-toed sandals and greased topknots stride down the sidewalk and stop before Grauman's Chinese Theatre. The crowd of tourists stares uncertainly. Then they get it. Sumo wrestlers! Real ones.

It sure looks real enough, all those vicious slaps to the face and head-smacking collisions and men of generous poundage being hurled into the dirt. But the shadow of fraud hangs over this spring's sumo tournament in Osaka.

Think of sumo wrestling, and you might envision two men bouncing their bellies off each other. But nothing could be further from the truth, says California Sumo Assn. director Andrew Freund. To prove his point, the association is holding its seventh annual U.S. Sumo Open this Saturday at the Los Angeles Sports Arena for those wanting a more authentic look at the ancient Japanese sport.

Six months ago, Steven Jimenez didn't know much about the ancient Japanese sport of sumo wrestling. Today, he's a budding star, stepping into the ring with the enthusiasm of a seasoned champion. And on Sunday, the 16-year-old West Covina student got to test his skills against some of the world's best amateur sumo wrestlers at the sixth annual U.S. Sumo Open, which attracted hundreds of cheering aficionados to the Los Angeles Convention Center. The event, sponsored by the California Sumo Assn.

Call it the red carpet treatment for large, lumbering men 300 pounds and up. In bright robes and slippers, their hair gathered back in tight, elegant buns, the giant ones arrive, glaring at the average-sized humans around them with a withering smirk that says, "Out of my way. And don't even think about asking for my autograph." They're sumo wrestlers, converging at a fabled Tokyo sports arena for one of the biggest body-tossing pageants of the season, the New Year Grand Sumo Tournament.

The pot scandal rocked a nation, leading to indignant editorials and raising questions about the perceived lost old-school values of the sport. No, this isn't about Olympic swim star Michael Phelps. Think Japan and sumo wrestling. Now, sumo wrestling, a good excuse to eat massive amounts of potato chips, pizza and Twinkies without suspicion. And who would possibly catch on that it might be the munchies, not a byproduct of a training regime?

At a mere 308 pounds, Asashoryu is not the biggest of the big-bellied men waddling around the dirt ring of this chilly sumo training stable, looking for someone to slam up against. But he is definitely the baddest. His opponents look like they were carved from mountains. But Asashoryu cuffs them in the ear and drops them to their knees. He drives his palm into their throats and they recoil. He picks them up by their belts and flings them, their legs flailing, out of the ring.

Shaquille O'Neal laughed at the idea: diaper-clad men of gargantuan size summoned as battering rams to make the NBA's most imposing big man even better. Don't laugh, Shaq. It might happen. Coach Pat Riley is talking about adding extra bulk -- and he means real tonnage -- to Miami Heat practices. Riley's idea? Sumo wrestlers. "We're going to bring them in and have them lean on him and lean on him, and we're not going to let him just back them in," Riley said.

LARRY BRANN waits in a chair in the Jun Chong Martial Arts Center in Santa Monica, smiling as kids in tae kwon do uniforms file into class on a Sunday morning. Dressed in baggy shorts, Brann is not here to study the Korean martial art, but to take his first class in sumo wrestling, which thus far he has only seen on TV. "It's the ultimate sport," says Brann. "It's like when you were a little kid, fighting with your brother or sister to be king of the mountain; your whole job is to get them down.

I am going to admit what few women will in print, that I weigh 137 pounds, but right about now I wish it were 100 more. This is because I have my head buried in Danila's solar plexus and am pushing so hard that everything from my ears to the arches of my feet is straining to move her, but Danila, a solid 183, isn't budging. "Spin! Turn!"