A decade ago, Chad Ha’aheo Rowan was one of the foremost figures in international sport, in his or any era. His name and accomplishments are unfamiliar to many because he was a sumo rikishi who fought under the name of Akebono.

Rowan was not merely very good—he absolutely dominated sumo during a career that lasted from 1988 to 2001 and set records in the process. And to scale the summit of this sport, he had to leave home in Hawaii to live in Japan and learn a foreign language, a new sport, and the customs and traditions participation in that sport demands.

Rowan appeared in his first tournament in March 1988. Sumo holds six tournaments a year, and just 30 tournaments later, in January 1993, he became sumo’s first non-Japanese yokozuna, the highest rank. It was the fastest rise to the summit from scratch in the sport’s history. Further, Akebono was the only rikishi to hold the highest rank for nearly two years. Some have likened this feat to a Japanese who has never seen or played football going to an American university and winning the Heisman Trophy four years later.

He won 11 tournament championships, ranking him 7th in the modern era at the time. (After Akebono retired, another foreign rikishi, Musashimaru, racked up 12. Today’s superstar, the Mongolian Asashoryu, who broke Akebono’s records for speed of promotion, has 10 championships now and will likely pass them both this year.) Akebono’s career match record was 654 wins and 232 losses.

His stunning competitive record was not the only reason for Akebono’s popularity among the Japanese. Sumo has a 2,000-year history, and participation demands an attitude and approach that is almost aesthetic. Unlike his fellow Hawaiian Konishiki, who complained that he never made yokozuna due to racism, Akebono pleased even the most demanding purists with his demeanor. (The ranking system is somewhat similar to that of martial arts.) More than a few Japanese thought a non-Japanese would never win promotion to yokozuna, as sumo is a conservative, traditional sport in a country that prizes conservatism in its traditions. But Akebono made history in January 1993.

Forced to retire due to a series of knee injuries, there were a wealth of opportunities to pursue. He could have opened his own training organization, as do many former famous rikishis. He could have parleyed his name and fame into television commercials, as did Konishiki. He could have married a trophy wife, as did Takanohana. Indeed, he could have done all three. He was well paid during his days in the ring, earning US$15,000 a month at his peak, not counting bonuses for tournament victories, and could have made a lot more in any number of ways.

So what did Akebono choose to do after retirement? He became a K-1 fighter.

I don’t know how well known K-1 is outside of Japan, but in Japan it is an extremely popular fighting sport. Venues with a capacity of 45,000 are sold out for matches in an hour. Conducted in a boxing ring, the sport’s promoters claim it combines the martial arts of karate, Thai kickboxing, tae kwon do, and kung fu. The matches seem to be above board, but all the commentators have a background in professional wrestling. Here is their official website.

It is as if Michael Jordan decided to take up roller derby.

But it is not just a case of Akebono deciding to become a K-1 fighter. He is a really bad K-1 fighter. Since his debut on New Year’s Eve 2003 against Bob Sapp, so well known in Japan that Akebono’s debut became a dream match, the former rikishi has fought six times and been pummeled every time.

His most recent loss came last New Year’s Eve in just two minutes and 12 seconds. All his matches have ended in the equivalent of first-round KOs. Yet Akebono says he will keep at it until he starts winning. Why?

It’s probably the 50 million yen he is rumored to be paid each match. That’s a lot of money for one fight, but the sport is so popular and the TV ratings high enough it’s still profitable for the sponsors.

How much humiliation and pain would you be willing to suffer for half a million dollars?

If dramatist Paddy Chayevsky were still alive, he might call this Requiem for A Yokozuna.