Who likes big, fat, sweaty men in diapers?

The Japanese do, that's who. But they call them Sumo wrestlers and they worship them. These guys are bad-asses, and they give every fat guy in Japan a chance to score a wife. It'd be like having the misfortune of looking like Brad Pitt in the States.

I went last weekend with a group of Gaijin, and had a great time! It's very Japanese, from the flags outside the stadium, to the stadium itself (which is dedicated to Sumo only). We had just about the worst seats in the stadium and still had fun, making friends with the Japanese people sitting around us and generally just taking it all in.

When you approach the stadium you see rows and rows of colorful flags, each of which represents a Sumo that is competing. They actually make a pretty picture. Each match takes about 5 minutes: 4 minutes and 45 seconds of preparing and 15 seconds of flesh-on-flesh. As soon as one Sumo pushes another out of the ring, the match is over. No points, no rounds, very simple. When you're out, you're done. So over the course of a day you might see 60 matches. And each Sumo only wrestles once a day, so right there you've got 120 wrestlers. The tournament lasts for a couple of weeks, and although the wrestlers compete over and over during the week, I'm sure there are more than 120 wrestlers and thus, more than 120 flags. Pretty cool.

Before each group of wrestlers begins their matches, they gather around for the "opening ceremonies" as it were, and a Shinto Priest blesses them and the ring.

Then each match begins with the exact same series of movements...

Then they line up against each other ready to do battle. We were at this angle for much of the day. In fact, it inspired a rather catchy simile -- we decided that my Southern accent was like a Sumo's testicle...it occasionally pops out.

And let the mayhem begin!

We went to lunch at a restaurant next to the stadium. They have a sumo ring set up in the middle of the restaurant and invite you to come up and try it out. As long as you're a man. Some of the girls in our group went up there and they yelled at them to get the hell off there. It's sacred ground I guess, and you know how a woman will mess up a sacred place in a heartbeat with all that menstrual stuff.

I challenged a Japanese guy sitting at another table to a match, and he taught me how to go through the Sumo moves. Then he taught me to respect my elders.

And here are the Sumo leaving at the end of the day, like celebrities. There was a big crowd of people hanging out at the gates waiting to see their favorites in person. And these guys know they're Huge in Japan (even more than me). They don't even make eye contact with their adoring fans or say a word to them. Hard core.

Oh, and here's a picture of me with the British Ambassador to Japan. I went to a Christmas party at his house in the British Embassy Compound back in December. That's how I roll...