The Undefeated UFC fighter Ronda Rousey & her 2007 Championship Vid

VIDEO: Watch this incredible brutal and exciting match with Champion Ronda Rousey

We had arrived in Rio a few days before, checking into El Motel—the Brazilian equivalent of Super 8. Some of my teammates were complaining about the rooms, but I didn’t need anything too fancy and, unlike at most tournaments, USA Judo was at least paying for my room.

The day of competition I got up early so I could take the first shuttle to the weigh-in. I checked myself on my scale: seventy kilos on the dot. I was close, but was going to make weight without issue. On my way down to the lobby, I ran into Valerie Gotay. Valerie was lighter than me and had already fought.

In 2012, breakout Women’s Mixed Martial Artist, ‘Rowdy’ Ronda Rousey became the first women to ever be signed to the UFC, despite President Dana White’s previous statements against women in the organization. Breaking history and rising to super stardom in the MMA community, Ronda Rousey set the standard for women in the sport by becoming the women’s UFC bantamweight champion. However, two short years after becoming the UFC’s ‘golden child’, Ronda Rousey outraged millions of fans after refusing to shake the hand of contender Meisha Tate following her win at the UFC 168 championship.

Critics may regard her as a “one trick pony” but a victory is a victory and if Rousey is a “one trick pony” then the real question should be how come none of her challengers be able to stop her inevitable armbar submission?

In our view, Rousey is not a one trick pony fighter. Instead, we believe that Rousey has managed to become the true master of her art. This makes her literally unstoppable in the ring and she can do whatever she wants on her opponents, including submitting them over and over again.

Rousey’s base martial art for her MMA career is Judo. She is the first American woman who wins an Olympic gold medal for Judo.

I stormed into my room and pulled on my plastics, a pair of sweats made out of thin plastic. The suit prevents sweat from evaporating, keeping your body warm and making you sweat more. Then I layered my regular sweats over and pulled up my hood and headed back through the lobby, past the shuttle bus waiting to take the athletes to the weigh-in, and started running the mile to the tournament host hotel for the weigh-in.

It was September in Rio, and the sun was already beating down. Sweat dripped down my face. I could feel the hot condensation building up on my skin inside my plastics. I was running fast, when it dawned on me this was the exact stretch of road where the sixty-six kilo guy had been stabbed the night before.

As I walked back through the lobby, I saw the Japanese girl in my division coming out of the elevator. The Japanese team was staying here at the Hotel Deluxe Riviera Ritz. She was walking with two coaches, who had undoubtedly watched hours of her opponents’ footage, which they were likely discussing with her at that exact moment. She was wearing her sponsored designer sweats with her matching sponsored designer bag. But what pushed me over the fucking edge was that she was carrying a little tea kettle with a matching sponsored designer tea kettle warmer slipped over it.

I about lost my mind.

USA Judo had barely provided us matching sweats, so I sure as shit didn’t have a matching tea kettle warmer, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have it with me because it would have been back at El Motel and I would have to run back along Shank Road to go get the goddamn thing. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up as every muscle in my body tensed. I caught myself grinding my teeth. My fists were balled up so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms.

I faced Gévrise Émane of France in the championship and got called for a bullshit penalty in the first minute, which put me immediately behind. She scored on me a few seconds later with a throw that was questionable at best as far as whether it was a legitimate scoring takedown. I scored on a throw halfway through the match, bringing me within a minor score of tying the match—that is until the referees conferred and reversed the decision giving the score to my opponent. Firmly ahead on points, she spent the rest of the match running from me. She got a stalling penalty with less than a minute to go, then sprinted away from me in the final seconds of the match.

The world championship had slipped through my fingers. Every time I closed my eyes, even to blink, I saw Émane throwing her arms in the air in jubilation. I had no one to blame but myself. I had let it come down to points. I had failed. It hurt to breathe.

After the competition had ended for the day, I walked up into the stands where the crowd had been cheering for me so loudly hours before. I had to call my mom back home, but I couldn’t do it yet. Making that call would require finding the strength to say: I lost. My gut twisted. I climbed to the very top of the seats. The arena was nearly empty. I settled myself at the end of a row of seats, up against a corner, pulled my knees up to my chest, and cried harder than I ever had since Dad died.

Ronda Rousey
Filed to: FIGHTERS    5/11/15 1:30pm