The Raw Roots of Sumo: Exploring Early Techniques of a Fighting Art
Sumo today is a spectacle of tradition—massive wrestlers clad in mawashi, clashing in a sacred dohyo, bound by centuries-old rituals. But long before the referees, the salt, and the professional stables, sumo was a rougher beast—a practical, brutal contest born from combat and necessity. Its early techniques, though poorly documented, reveal a fighting art forged in the dirt of ancient Japan, blending raw power with instincts honed for survival. Let’s peel back the layers of history to explore what those primal moves might have looked like.
A Time Before Rules
In its infancy, sumo had no ring, no standardized belts, and no rulebook. Fights broke out wherever space allowed—village clearings, palace courtyards, or muddy fields. The objective was straightforward: overpower your opponent. Whether that meant hurling them to the ground, shoving them out of a contested patch, or leaving them unable to rise, the focus was on dominance, not finesse. This was no sport yet; it was a physical argument settled with flesh and force.
The earliest hints of sumo come from texts like the Nihon Shoki (720 CE), which recounts a legendary bout in 23 BCE. Nomi no Sukune, a figure shrouded in myth, supposedly crushed his rival Taima no Kehaya in a contest ordered by Emperor Suinin—possibly with fatal kicks and stomps. True or not, the story paints a picture of sumo as a no-holds-barred struggle, far from today’s controlled clashes. Practitioners weren’t athletes in the modern sense; they were farmers, laborers, or warriors, their techniques shaped by daily toil and the need to prevail.
The Core of Early Sumo: Power and Leverage
Without a dohyo to define boundaries, early sumo leaned heavily on pushing and driving—an ancestor to the modern yori-kiri (frontal force-out). Imagine two hulking figures locking shoulders, gripping whatever they could—clothing, arms, or bare skin—and shoving with all their might. The aim was to bulldoze the opponent backward until they yielded or fell. It was less about technique and more about momentum, fueled by low, grounded stances that maximized a wrestler’s natural heft.
Throws were another cornerstone. Techniques resembling uwatenage (overarm throw) or shitatenage (underarm throw) likely emerged from this era—crude but effective ways to flip an opponent onto their back. These weren’t the polished tosses of judo; they were rough heaves, powered by a twist of the hips or a yank on an overextended limb. Haniwa figurines from the Kofun period (300–710 CE), depicting stocky wrestlers mid-grapple, suggest a reliance on hip-driven leverage—a tactic suited to toppling foes in open space.
Dirty Tricks and Breaking Balance
Striking, though rare in today’s sumo, probably had its place. The Nomi no Sukune tale mentions kicks, and early fighters might have used open-hand slaps—wilder versions of modern tsuppari—to stun or push back rivals. Leg sweeps and trips, echoes of ashi-waza (leg techniques), could’ve been common too, especially against a charging opponent. Picture a wrestler sidestepping at the last second, tugging their foe down with a move like hataki-komi (slap-down)—a battlefield trick turned wrestling staple.
Balance was everything. With no ring to step out of, victory often hinged on making the other guy hit the ground first. Early sumo fighters likely improvised, pulling and twisting to disrupt footing. A move like sukui-nage (scoop throw), where you scoop an opponent’s leg to upend them, feels like a natural outgrowth of this scrappy mindset. Stamina mattered too—prolonged shoving matches doubled as tests of endurance, a trait prized when sumo briefly served as warrior training in the Kamakura period (1185–1333).
From Chaos to Codification
These techniques weren’t named or taught in schools—they were organic, shaped by the terrain (mud, grass, or stone) and the stakes (pride, land, or life). A wrestler might grab an arm and twist it into a primitive kote-nage (arm-lock throw), or hoist someone with a tsuri (lifting) grip to expose their weakness. If it worked, it stuck. Blood and broken bones were likely par for the course—details later scrubbed as sumo intertwined with Shinto purity rites.
By the Edo period (1603–1868), peace under the Tokugawa shogunate tamed sumo’s wild edges. The dohyo emerged, rules solidified, and the 48 (now over 70) kimarite (winning techniques) were codified. What began as a chaotic fighting art became a cultural institution, its lethality swapped for symbolism. Yet the explosive starts, the focus on force and balance, still carry the DNA of those early days.
Echoes of the Past
Early sumo techniques were a raw toolbox: pushing, pulling, throwing, tripping, maybe even striking—all driven by practical physics and human grit. They lacked the elegance of modern sumo, but they didn’t need it. In a world without referees or rankings, they were tools to win, plain and simple. Today’s kimarite preserve their spirit, polished into a form that honors a time when sumo was less about glory and more about getting the other guy down—however it took.