A JAPANESE WRESTLING (SUMO) CHAMPION played hookey from a Tokyo match and turned up at a baseball game.
    And so, Ray Alvis, whom Friend Povich dubbed "The Old Prospector,' finds himself a partner in the "ambassador of good will" - will I, or won't I make a good buck – business.
    Perhaps the Great Maedayama, who maintained he was too ill to bump tummies, would have gotten away with it had he confined his presence to grunting the Nippon version of "Kill the' umpire."
     But he shook hands with Lefty O'Doul and a much-publicized, seven-minute, 80,000 crowd ovation resulted.
    Due to a yen for the yen, if you know what I mean, ancient sumo and modern baseball bigwigs have been at dagger points for years.
    The Sumo Association blew its collective stack and ordered Yama's top-knot (hair, not head) clipped - lifetime banishment for the island equivalent of Babe Ruth, Bobby Jones or Joe Louis.

    Tokyo newspaper clippings reveal the cut-off drew 30,000 paid, although there's no mention that the champ was cut in.

    AT THIS POINT, UPSTEPPED two humanitarians - Alvis, who once sold a New England race track grandstand, concrete and all, to a South American jockey club, and Al Richardson, who parlayed promotions into Hong Kong's lucrative Luna Park before getting the Chinese Communist heave ho.
    Now when the Old Prospector sniffs a fast buck, he runs, doesn't walk, to the nearest sports department. (Perhaps it's too bad we moved.)
    Anyway, let's give the ball to Alvis and, remember, I quote:
"The Great Maedayama is coming! Whatta Tokyo story! Got 270 inches more than MacArthur's firing in the Japanese papers. Next to their Emperor, Yama's top man.
    "Sumo's been the national game for centuries. Lords and barons own stables - just like our Whitneys and Vanderbilts with their horses. They're giants, bred for sumo, No pay, but they live first class and get college education.

    "THE SUMO ASSOCIATION'S word is law. That's how Yama got in Dutch. Fans jam the auditorium. No seats, they bring their meals and squat on ramps. Seventy or 80 matches an afternoon during the 90-day season.
    The clay-floor ring is round, not square, and a high priest (referee) stands outside and directs action with flips of a fan. One knee on the floor is a sumo fall but these guys come together like head-on express trains. Lot of crushed bones and knockouts: It's terrific!
    "We almost had to call in the League of Nations on this deal. Contracts had to be signed with SCAP and the Japanese Government. Guaranteed daily pay, insurance, support of families of Yama and three others, etc.
    "And food - there's a headache. We must supply them with rice, fish, seaweed and gallons of saki. I'd rather let 'em eat cake.

    "THEY SAIL NEXT WEEK, first class, too. Go into the Honolulu ball park July 17 for a sumo show. But we're sending out four United States wrestlers. Yama and the others will try American style on the West Coast.
    "I hate to think what 300-pound Yama will do to the likes of Georgeous George and Mr. America! It'll be criminal, I tell you."
    The Old Prospector paused, pushed his rose-colored glasses off the bridge of his nose and pondered, "Wonder what Joe Turner, God bless his soul, would think about this?"
    Then he continued, "He used to rib about my exploits and I'd tell him some day Saint Peter will look at me and say. 'Ray Alvis, you're a terrible man, but you've been at least 10 percent legit. You never bet on a number or promoted a wrestling match."
    The Old Prospector stared at the ceiling momentarily and concluded, "And now, I've nothing going for me but the numbers.”