Sumo. I know what you're gonna say… Fat men in nappies. Well I think I might be coming around to the idea. Japan is the mothership of oddity as far as my Western mind is concerned. A baffling example can be found on most street corners in Japan - the Pachinko parlour. Masses of seemingly sane men (many Saga healthcare worthy) spending endless hours in these frantic, garish, neon institutions where you basically sit at a vertical pinball machine and try to shoot silver balls into the relevant holes. I'm still gobsmacked to find these relentless places packed full; blank faced, glassy eyed victims sitting in bright rows surrounded by the blast of electronic 'music' at Wembley stadium volume…something close to what hell would sound like. For me anyway.

As a 'take it or leave it' sports fan, the idea of queuing at 8am for a ticket to a Sumo wrestling tournament was a little out of character, but I was curious. When we got in there I was quite glad to find we weren't sitting at the edge of the platform like other 'death-wish' spectators. It seems that shoving your three-hundred pound opponent into the laps of surrounding audience members is a popular route to victory for these wrestlers. Judging by the excitable fans lining the streets outside this can't be the worst way to go; these guys have the concrete celebrity status of long-standing Hollywood A-listers in this country.

Well. It turns out there's more to this sport than meets the eye. The physical training demanded of these fellas is hard-core; all flexible enough to do the splits and many strong enough to bench press 200 kilos. Of course there are many years of over-eating, napping, more eating (my kind of career), but the psychological and physical tactics involved are complex. Apart from the pre-grapple grunting and thigh-slapping it was much like a boxing match, each opponent intimidating the other with eye-contact (and aforementioned slapping) before going in for the kill.

Unaware that the roots of Sumo derived from the Shinto religion, I didn't expect the importance placed on respect and ritual in this tournament. Prior to each fight they clap their hands together to alert the gods (as is tradition upon visiting a Shinto shrine), and the slapping of thighs/stomping of feet apparently squashes any evil spirits hanging around. You wouldn't expect a kimono-clad referee to shuffle around a Western boxing ring pre-match, sprinkling salt as a purification technique, but here it is part of the experience. It suddenly hit me like a Sumo slap across the face - every part of Japanese culture is considered sacred and demands respect. Even brutally violent traditions such as Sumo. I suppose Western culture had that once; the strict rules and mutual esteem involved in a traditional duel for example. A far cry from the post-midnight, post-tequilla messy punch-ups you see outside British bars and clubs these days.

I am not a religious person but watching those wrestlers parade the ring together, receiving a joint blessing under the Shinto shrine-style roof, you couldn't help but feel respect for these ancient rituals. It didn't seem silly at all. Coming from a culture where the closest we get to 'sacred ritual' is ordering your daily usual in Starbucks, I wondered if this two thousand year old animalistic sport had the right idea. Is it us with our smart phones and low-fat decaf lattes that need a lesson in culture? Should we get back to basics; throw on a nappy and work off our daily frustrations in a good old fashioned organised throw down? Well... I have only just had my nails done. Maybe another time.

Don't be fooled, it isn't all fighting and religious fervour. If an 'underdog' Sumo wrestler wins the final match of the day, the ring becomes a mass of brightly coloured pillows as fans go wild and throw their seat cushions into the centre. That part is almost as sacred as the salt throwing. Balls to psycho-analysis; if you want to find your inner child, chances are he/she is living it up in Japan.