The Hawaii-born sumo groundbreaker has died at age 54 of heart failure.
Having followed the sport avidly when he was active, I feel compelled to say something, but as is usually the case for athletes who have been out of the spotlight for a long time, I’m not sure how to respond. So I’ll just list everything that still sticks in my memory:
Perhaps the greatest proof of his astounding influence was that I personally witnessed no fewer than three people, including my own father, see E.Honda in Street Fighter II for the first time and immediately call him Akebono. Not Konishiki. Not Takamiyama. Not Chiyonofuji, Asahifuji, Onokuni, Akinoshima, Terao, Kushimaumi, or Hokutoumi. Akebono.
Being the first foreign-born competitor to make yokozuna was a landmark achievement, obviously, as was an all but unthinkable 11 yusho, but the thing I admire the most was that it finally ended all the tiresome whining about Konishiki being robbed. Simply put, Akebono showed us how it’s done, accomplishing nearly everything (back to back yushos, sustained excellence, clutch wins over top opposition, not being a jerk) Konishiki couldn’t. Not to take anything from the big guy’s accomplishments, but he isn’t a yokozuna any more than John Daly is a Ryder Cup captain.
That he hung on as long as he did is made more remarkable when you consider that both the Japanese press and a disturbingly large chunk of the fanbase was hellbent on crapping on him at every opportunity. (Read his autobiography; some truly shudder-worthy stories there.) It’s an open question of who even wanted him to be a yokozuna in the first place, which, yes, is a requirement.
Like many of the greats, he eventually developed a signature move, that one kimarite he did better than anyone else and became the thing to watch for. Wakanohana had a pretty kawazugake, Kirishima had a killer utchari, and Takanonami practically built his entire mystique around kimedashi. Akebono’s was tsukidashi. See, he knew that his long, gangly legs were a weakness and if his opponent got to the belt he would very likely lose, so his gameplan was don’t ever let anyone get to the belt. And when it worked, it was the Geese Howard express for his hapless opponent.
Sadly, his career would end in an all-too-familiar tragedy, not being able to parlay his athletic success into a prosperous future. He didn’t have the political clout to join the Sumo Association after retirement, which meant that he had to find a completely new direction. Challenging enough under normal circumstances; downright soul-chiling when you add a spouse’s debts (reportedly from bad investments) to the mix. Thereby driving home the lesson…again…that it isn’t just what you know, it’s who you know, but I am trying to show a modicum of respect for the man, so I’ll leave it at that.