Canadian Salad

Fantasy Sumo: A Digital Passport To Community & Tradition

Season 3 Episode 8

Sumo is more than a sport — it’s a ritual, a mirror of Japanese identity, and now, surprisingly, a digital community reaching across the world. In this episode, Andrea explores how one of Japan’s oldest traditions is finding new life in unexpected places: a backyard in Victoria, British Columbia, a childhood memory in Japanese immigrants, and a global network of Fantasy Sumo fans.

Through conversations with Matt, a Fantasy Sumo enthusiast, and Akari, who grew up watching the sport with her grandparents, this episode traces what happens when an ancient practice wrestles with globalization, technology, and change. It’s a story about respect, connection, and the delicate balance between holding on and letting go.

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Theme music by Nver Avetyan from Pixabay.
A Janklin Production.

SPEAKER_02:

I like smallin.

SPEAKER_00:

Do you like smelling? Welcome to Canadian Sammelin, a fun, factual, and friendly podcast about culture and integration in Canada.

SPEAKER_03:

I'm one of your hosts, I'm Ho Chen Hummel from China, currently living in unceded territory of Muscovem Swaman, as Newatuan Nations.

SPEAKER_00:

And I'm Andrea McCoy, an immigrant from the United States, broadcasting you from the unceded traditional territory of the Wakungan people, the song needs an inspiring First Nations.

SPEAKER_03:

And you're listening to Canadian Challenge.

SPEAKER_00:

Every couple months, in a quiet neighborhood in Victoria, British Columbia, a small group of neighbors gather in someone else's living room. There's tea on the counter, snacks within reach, a couch full of conversation. And on the television screen, two enormous men wearing silk belts bow deeply to one another before colliding. It's not a joke. It's not a meme. It's fantasy sumo, a kind of grassroots league that blends the spirit of fantasy sports with the ancient discipline of Japan's national pastime. I'd never heard of it until a friend said you should talk to Matt.

SPEAKER_04:

I'd never heard about it. It started when we got to know our neighbors. And I've always had to look for ways to connect with other people. Any opportunity or any sort of stage or playing field that I can meet people on, I'll do it. In this case, they said that they as a family were really into sumo. So I said there's a way to connect. And that's how it started. That's almost two years ago now.

SPEAKER_00:

That curiosity that I'll learn your thing if it helps us connect is how Matt, a Dutch Canadian, stumbled into a world he didn't expect to love. Fifteen-day tournaments, thirty giant men, centuries old rituals, and one deeply international chat group in Victoria. So how does this all work? Every two months, Japan holds a professional sumo tournament called a Honbasho. There are six of them a year, each lasting fifteen days. Thirty or so wrestlers or wikishis face off once a day. Each match or bout can last anywhere between three seconds and a minute. And these aren't backyard brawls.

SPEAKER_04:

A top-level sumo tournament is held every two months in Japan.

SPEAKER_01:

And these are real people, real players, like these are real people, yes, these are real players. A lot of flesh, yeah.

SPEAKER_04:

And so they invited me to come over for a primer, and they showed me an evening of the matches and explained what's happening, why they are doing certain things, and how the game progresses and all that stuff. After one tournament, two months later, there was another one, and another, and another, and every time it happens, we join together and we watch a couple of matches together. Now, these matches are broadcast on NHK, that is the sort of the English language broadcast channel in Japan.

SPEAKER_00:

Okay. Now when Matt says NHK, he's talking about Japan's national broadcaster. Their nightly recap is the perfect mix of tradition and calm narration. Think the opposite of ESPN. In between matches, you might get a 30-minute documentary about rice farming or the history of a particular turnip.

SPEAKER_04:

It is a channel and a sport. Interesting. How to watch the train and so forth. Wow. And sumo is one of them. And if you watch it, you can see that in the audience it's it's mostly mostly elderly that watch it, but that doesn't matter.

SPEAKER_00:

It's very nice. It's awesome. It's slow. It's kind of amazing.

SPEAKER_04:

I don't know how fantasy football exactly works, but in this case, every person in our little chat group in our of the fans picks three Rikish fighters before the tournament starts, and then you can see how well your fighters are doing and how many points you gather.

SPEAKER_01:

I see.

unknown:

Okay.

SPEAKER_04:

That's sort of how that goes.

SPEAKER_01:

There's that kind of okay, and then do you then bet on your person? Or is there money involved? Or is it very simply just like you're just doing it for fun? Hey, these are just for fun and honor.

SPEAKER_00:

So basically, you draft your Rikishi, track their daily wins, and rack up points. It's like fantasy football if fantasy football involves Shinto priests, salt purification rituals, and zero touchdown dances. But sumo is more than pushing, it's performance. Each bout begins long before the wrestlers even touch each other. Sumo means wrestling in Japanese. According to Makoya, a Japanese ceremony site, sumo wrestling was born as a Shinto ritual to entertain gods. It was believed that if the gods are not pleased, they would not bring a good harvest season. The lowest ranked enters the ring first, and then the highest ranked. They enter the dohyo, the ring, wearing ceremonial aprons that can cost thousands of dollars. They toss salt to purify the clay and to ward off evil spirits. They squat, they glare, they slap their bellies, they stare, all of it ritual. And then in a blur of strength and precision, it's over. The first man to touch the ground or step outside the ring loses. There are no ties, there are no rematches. Both wrestlers will hold each other's hand and hold up their aprons as a samurai tradition to show that they are unarmed.

SPEAKER_04:

A sumo fan from 300 years ago can watch a tournament today and understand exactly what's going on because the rules and everything is still the same.

SPEAKER_01:

Wow.

SPEAKER_04:

Um all the the traditions around it, the ceremony, um, the way they count points, the moves, everything is still the same. So it is it's not so much as a sport. Well, it is a sport, of course, I don't want to downplay that, but it is also a uh sort of a display of cultural heritage.

SPEAKER_00:

That's what makes it so mesmerizing. It's like watching a living museum, a 21st century broadcast of a 17th century ritual, and the etiquette is strict. No gloating, no anger, no celebration. If you win, you bow and leave. If you lose, same thing. Sumo places a high value on respecting one's opponent, even after a hard-fought match. Showing a strong emotional reaction is seen as a sign of disrespect.

SPEAKER_04:

It is frowned upon if you celebrate your win or you express your anger at a loss after a match. You are just you enter the ring and you wrestle, and one loses, one wins, and you don't show any emotion, and you snap off again. And every part of that is very steeped in tradition and ceremony. The way you receive your winnings, the way you enter, the way you greet, the way you start, everything. It's more of a display of um that rich cultural history rather than um sport.

SPEAKER_00:

Imagine if hockey players had to bow to each other instead of fist bumping, if basketball players couldn't even smile after a buzzer beater. That's sumo. Restraint is part of the art. And yet the fandom is anything but restrained. While Matt's story of sumo begins in Canada, the roots of sumo became not just a sport, but a reflection of Japanese identity itself, a mix of physical power, spiritual discipline, and social order. That was the world Akari grew up in.

SPEAKER_02:

In my like family's case, it's more of a like family thing. I would watch it with my grandparents, or like with my parents, or my sisters. Grandpa and Grandma, so they would start watching it around five in the afternoon till six. Okay. So I would come back from school and I see them like watching sumo.

SPEAKER_01:

So like I'll just like stay with them. As a kid watching it, did you understand it? Did they explain the rules, or was it kind of a mystery?

SPEAKER_02:

Uh half a mystery, I think, but it's pretty small matches. If you watch it, it's pretty clear who is the winner and then if who is a loser. Two people like wrestling. If whoever goes out the circle is a loser, and then who's like standing inside the circle is the winner. So I understood that part, but I didn't understand anything else.

SPEAKER_00:

Ari was born in Japan and has been an immigrant to Canada for over 15 years. Now living in Canada, she rarely watches anymore except when she visits her parents. Sumo for Akari isn't just a sport, it's a thread back to childhood to Japan, to a slower rhythm of life that she still misses sometimes.

SPEAKER_02:

Maybe like you and there, I would watch one match or something on like YouTube. But when I go visit my parents, I watch with them sometimes. For me, it's definitely something that I would do with some with someone. Or if someone is watching sumo, I would join. But it's not something that I would choose to watch by myself. It's more of a like family thing.

SPEAKER_00:

What's fascinating is that while sumo is shrinking in Japan, it's quietly growing everywhere else. Globally, the sport is finding new fans, online, on YouTube, and in small communities like Matt's. NHK World now broadcasts tournaments in English. Reddit has dedicated sumo threads that come alive every tournament season. And across Europe, amateur clubs are popping up. Germany, the UK, Poland, and even Brazil. It's part of a larger story about how sports and culture have gone digital. According to Grandview research, the global fantasy sports market is now worth around 25 billion US dollars and could more than double by 2030. The fastest growing regions, Asia and North America. People aren't just watching sports anymore. They're participating in them online. They're building communities around them. Sumo fits perfectly into that new rhythm. Fast bouts, clear rules, plenty of characters to root for. For Matt, it's easy to see why. But the digital success of Sumo hides a deeper problem. Inside Japan, the number of new wrestlers, called recruits, is falling fast. The Japan Times recently reported that some training stables have gone entire seasons without a single new recruit. That's unprecedented. The reasons are layered. Japan's population is aging and shrinking. Fewer young people mean fewer potential wrestlers. And among the new ones who could join, fewer are willing. Sumo life is strict and grueling, early mornings, rigid hierarchies, communal living, and massive controlled eating. Many trainees enter as teenagers and are expected to dedicate their lives to the sport, often at the expense of education or independence. In a country where modern careers now value flexibility and creativity, sumo can feel a bit like a more ancient discipline of Japan's national pastime. As McKinsey report once put it bluntly, what average Japanese kid today wants to grow up and out to become a sumo wrestler? That tension between preservation and progress runs through everything.

SPEAKER_02:

I guess it's like any type of sports, I think, or any type of cultural events or like activities or customs. There is a fine line. I see the beauty in preserving things, but change is the only thing that is consistent. Like I think nothing stays the same.

SPEAKER_00:

The ritual can survive, even if the form changes. Yet still, there's a fine line between evolution and appropriation. Akari pointed out that when traditions travel, they often get reshaped, sometimes in ways that disconnect them from their origins. That line between reverence and reinvention is hard to walk. For many Japanese fans, it's painful to see foreigners adopt sumo without understanding its spiritual roots. The Shinto purification, the respect before and after every match, the notion that the dojo is a sacred space. But Akari doesn't see globalization as all bad. She believes that as long as there's respect, change can be a form of survival.

SPEAKER_02:

I'm not worried, even if it becomes something totally different in the future. It's nice to know that something that's so Japanese is enjoyed by people from different cultural background and I think it looks really cool.

SPEAKER_00:

It's at the heart of Matt's story too. His group isn't mocking the sport. They're not turning it into a joke. They're treating it with the same care the wrestlers themselves bring to the ring. He told me that what he loves most is the balance of power and restraint, the way the wrestlers bow before and after the fight. That kind of community feels rare and precious. Still a paradox here. A sport that represents Japanese tradition at its purest is now being kept alive, at least in part, by foreigners. Sumo has become something of a global citizen in that way. And in that sense, it's a lot like cultural traditions today, both fragile and adaptable. Fantasy sumo might not be what the founders of the sport imagined, but it's introducing new audiences to something old and profound. It's also making sumo a space of community again, even if that community now includes group chats, video recaps, and online leaderboards. When I asked Akari what she thought of Fantasy Sumo, she said, I think that's really cool.

SPEAKER_02:

And I'm like, I didn't know that Fantasy Sumo exists. I think that's really cool. And it is, I guess, a very simple yet still really exciting thing to watch. It is also a like a form of art too. So yeah, I think that's really cool.

SPEAKER_00:

Her openness, that willingness to let something ancient live differently, feels like the heart of this story. Because the truth is, traditions only stay alive if they can move. Maybe that's the deeper lesson of sumo: that balance isn't always about stillness, it's about motion and harmony. In the ring, wrestlers spend most of their time preparing, circling, breathing, testing, waiting. The actual fight might last a few seconds, but the preparation, the intention, is everything. Maybe that's what connection is too. The rituals we keep, showing up, checking in, staying curious.

SPEAKER_04:

I think I've always had to look for ways to connect with other people. That any opportunity or any sort of stage that I can meet people on, I'll do it.

SPEAKER_00:

That phrase, a stage I can meet them on. That's really stayed with me. Because sumo for Matt isn't just about wrestlers or rankings, it's about finding common ground, about belonging. That's where real connection happens. And maybe that's the real spirit of fantasy sumo.

SPEAKER_04:

Whether that has to happen over drinks or over sumo, that doesn't really the topic doesn't really matter because at that point the issue is less important than the relationship. And the relationship is lacking is what matters. And it brings a group of very diverse, very international group of immigrants together. And I I really enjoy that.

SPEAKER_00:

Right there. Yes, it's about sport, but also it's about neighborliness, empathy, and curiosity. Those are the things that make meaning. Matt said the topic doesn't matter, the relationship is what matters. And maybe that's true not just for friendships, but for cultural itself. Sumo's future may not depend on only who steps into the ring, but on who keeps watching, learning, and caring. For Akari, that may mean passing on the tradition of watching Sumo with her children one day. For Matt, it's watching matches with friends, projecting matches on a big backyard screen for anyone who wanted to come.

SPEAKER_04:

Everyone was invited, and we set it up in a big screen in the backyard with tea and drinks, and we had, I think, 30 people come, and everyone watched the two recaps back to back and place their bets and had a great time.

SPEAKER_00:

And that's how you know you've made it as a community. When you've got people cheering for Japanese wrestlers in a Victoria backyard. For others, it might just be pausing for a moment to watch something ancient unfold, slowly, deliberately, and beautifully. Sumo isn't just about winning. It's about the bow before the bout, the breath before the clash, the respect after the fall. It's about what happens when you bring your full self into the ring and what you leave behind when you step out. In that way, maybe sumo is about something borderless, a dance of strength, stillness, and spirit that belongs to anyone willing to honor it. And maybe, just maybe, that's how it survives. If you want to learn more about fantasy sumo or the traditions of sumo wrestling, you can visit our website www.canadiansalad.ca. Drop us a message on what you thought about this episode. You can send that email hello at Canadiansalad.ca, or be sure to follow us on all of our socials, TikTok, Blue Sky, and Instagram. And be sure to leave a review and share it with your friends and family. Thanks so much for joining us, and we'll talk to you next week. Canadian Salad is written and produced in British Columbia, Canada by Hoshan Ho and Andrea McCoy. Theme music is by Navir Avetyan from Pixabay. This has been a good Jranklin production.