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I am a breaking news and general assignment reporter for The New York Times, which means I have written about nearly every conceivable topic, be it cicada invasions, product recalls, the retail evolution of Halloween or Lego pieces that were lost at sea.
The one exception, however, is sports. The topic rarely comes up in my coverage, which is perhaps a good thing. I don’t watch any sports. I can barely throw a ball, never mind tell you in detail how to shoot an impressive home run.
But sometimes the stories worth writing find you, even in the middle of reporting on a different one.
In early May, I was visiting the Gecko Gallery NYC, possibly the world’s smallest gecko zoo, when the photographer Ann Hermes told me about an amateur sumo club elsewhere in the city. The club was holding its first-ever competition in just a few days.
Immediately I knew this was a “yarn,” as my editors call it. After all, how does a city known for having everything not have this one particular sport?
But the more I found on social media about the club, the more I realized this was not just an article about a sport, but one about community, New York and resilience.
Ann put me in touch with the club’s founder, Oscar Dolan, who shared with me his journey to sumo wrestling. He detailed the blood, sweat and tears that went into making the city’s first amateur sumo tournament, the Empire Cup, a reality.
I immediately threw myself into sumo wrestling research. Using videos from the Japanese public broadcaster NHK, I devoured every detail of the sport. I also leaned on my colleague Victor Mather, who had covered professional sumo wrestling. Victor is a sportswriter — a damn good one, too.
It was a rainy week leading up to the tournament in mid-May. On that Saturday, with the clouds threatening to cascade yet again, I arrived at the courtyard of Japan Village in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, ready to see the sport in action.
Walking around the area, I saw wrestlers stretching and warming up. Some were getting help tying their mawashi, or traditional sumo loincloth belt. I could tell it was an inclusive community; the wrestlers came in all shapes and sizes. Some were muscular, but small, while others looked much more like what you would expect from sumo wrestlers: massive and strong.
I interviewed club members and other athletes who were milling around to learn what brought them to the competition. Not all of the participants were club members, some weren’t even sumo wrestlers, I learned. They regularly practiced jujitsu or other martial arts instead, and wanted to try their hand at sumo. The clouds parted just in time for the match, bathing the courtyard in much-needed sunlight.
Sitting on the small step of the platform where the portable dohyo, the sumo wrestling ring, was placed, I wondered if I should move after officials warned the audience to watch for falling wrestlers. But then again, how often would I get a chance to be this close to a sumo match ever again? I stayed put.
I knew sumo matches would be quick but I didn’t realize exactly how fast — the blink-and-you-might-miss-it kind of fast. My video of the first match is under 10 seconds long, ending when one wrestler was pushed out of the ring, fell and landed on his behind with a thud.
I was struck by how easy it was to get into the sport. People walking by stopped to watch and found themselves cheering by the end. Fan favorites quickly developed; one man loudly cheered on athletes whom he identified by the color of their belt, shouting “Go Green Diaper!” I understood the appeal in a way that was made clear to me only by being there in person. The action draws you in and keeps you there.
I eventually got up from my seat to interview audience members. Some had heard about the event online; one was on his way to a nearby Petco to buy cat food when he noticed it.
“It’s not really something you expect in America,” he told me.
After the article was published, I heard from some of the club members who were thrilled to see their community splashed on the front of the Sports section. It was a good reminder to keep looking for stories outside of my comfort zone, and of the honor that it is to tell stories like these for a living.
I couldn’t do it without the kindness of strangers who let me into their world for just a little bit, and for that I will forever be grateful.
Aimee Ortiz covers breaking news and other topics.
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