Rousey won the bronze in 2008, but afterward quit the sport and fell into a depression before taking up MMA. Toshifumi Kitamura/AFP/Getty
Four years after Athens came her big win at the Beijing Olympics. She was unhappy that it was only for a bronze medal, however, even though it made her the first American woman judoka to ever even place in the Games. Shortly thereafter, she went into a tailspin and quit her sport. She just didn't want to fight anymore. It ****ed her off to no end that, after all her hard work, her only reward from the U.S. Olympic Committee was "10 grand and a handshake." She spent the next year living like lots of regular people do. She worked at a bar. She held down the graveyard shift at a 24 Hour Fitness. Drank, smoked weed, caroused, lived in her Honda for a while, went out with another guy who was just plain bad, and put up with her mom, who called every guy she dated Bob, even to their face, never bothering to learn their real names, since they were all jerks and wouldn't be around for long, so why should she bother?
Eventually, she decided to give professional MMA a shot, which turned out to be exactly the thing to do. "Right now, I'm the baddest chick on the planet," she says. "And no matter what else happens to me, I have that. If I don't, I'm just a loser and I'm back in 2008, a drunk bartender living off of french fries and smoking menthols. And no one wants to smoke menthols. Menthols are disgusting."
Inside the Glendale Fighting Club, Rousey's head trainer, Edmond Tarverdyan, the club's wiry, smooth-tempered owner and a champion Muay Thai fighter from Armenia who has been working with Rousey since 2010, is out on the floor holding up a pair of mitts. Rousey stands facing him, feet planted, head down, gloved hands up. On the walls surrounding her are posters from her fights. On another wall, De Mars, who continues to give her daughter advice ("If she wants to take it, fine, and if she doesn't, she doesn't"), has in large letters scrawled some of her sayings, or "mom-isms," as Rousey calls them: "Winning is a habit." "Nobody's easy until after you beat them."
"We did a lot of straight shots, now we need to do angles," Tarverdyan tells Rousey. She nods, strikes.
"Beautiful," he says. "All right, great. Stay in place. No extra. That's good. OK, now, your right hand. Yeah, feel the shadow. Go jab and then go. OK, now you're out there, you're not afraid, you were never afraid. Beautiful, look at that!"
This dance goes on for almost an hour, with Rousey trying to do everything Tarverdyan asks, her eyes following him with nearly solicitous affection.
When the session is over, he says, "She's a born fighter. Here, we feel bad for her sparring partners. She knocks everybody out, so we hire female world boxing champions because they can take the punishment."
Rousey is nodding and beaming. Their relationship is oddly intimate. Every day, when Rousey buys him an iced coffee, she takes a straw and removes the paper up to the tip before inserting it into the cup. "Edmond's little straw," she will say. "I know there's extra love on that straw, even if he never notices it and never will." For his part, when Rousey was poor, Tarverdyan would order a ton of food at restaurants, telling her it was the Armenian way, just so she could get it to go at the end, never knowing it was his gift to her.
"The master plan is to retire undefeated," she says, "and walk away and not have anything left to prove. It'll be hard to know when it's time, but it'll help to have something else to get into, which is why I'm putting time into acting and the book and buying properties."
"I'll know when it's time," says Tarverdyan.
"Yeah," says Rousey. "I trust you. I only have so much ring time that my body can endure. I've had four surgeries on my knees, arthritis in my neck, separated my shoulders, broken my nose. I'm just gonna hope that science advances faster than I can deteriorate. Because what am I gonna do? Put a perfect body into the ground? What's the point of that?"
A while later, she's telling what it's like for her right after winning a fight and she's in the shower. "I start to giggle my ass off," she says. "It's my first time alone. And for some reason, right then in the shower, it takes over, how happy I am, and I laugh my ass off. I mean, when was the last time you laughed like that at nothing that was funny?" She pauses. "I need to feel pressure. I need to feel like winning is the biggest deal in the ****ing universe. I wouldn't do as well without people watching. I'd still win. But I wouldn't do it with such pizazz."
Pizazz?
"Yeah, that's it. I fight with pizazz. It's a different sound from everyone else. It's the sound of pizazz."
Later in the afternoon, on the way home, Rousey says, "I think it's funny when people think that because I'm a female athlete that I must be a lesbian, and I'm like, 'No, I love men so much that I beat the **** out of girls for a living just to take them all out.' " She's joking, of course, but at the moment, she doesn't have a boyfriend. There are various reasons for that, though. For one, she's too busy. For another, she says, "the kind of guys I'm into have lots of desirable women willing to do backflips for them — and, I mean, if you can look like a man standing next to me, then you're a real ****ing man — but I'm just not doing any backflips."
Rousey photographed in Santa Monica, California. Peggy Sirota
And then there's the third and biggest reason. Rousey isn't scared of much, but she is scared of men she likes.
"This one guy, he's pretty well-known, he keeps texting me to go do this or that, and I'm such a *****, I won't say yes. And I want to. But I just ***** out. And then I met this guy at a gas station the other day — we had a moment with our credit cards not working right — and he asked me out. He was cute, but I was just a big ol' *****. I was like, 'I don't know. I gotta lot of ****, bro.' I bro'd him, and I didn't want to." She sighs. "I don't know what my problem is, and why I get so shy that I have trouble speaking, when I'm so bold in other areas." She pops her hand on the steering wheel. "I have an actual issue, I do believe."
Rousey really is complex, maybe even bordering on an amusingly appealing weirdo. She suffers from constant nightmares about zombie attacks. Is "deathly ticklish. I will turn into a ****ing ninja if you try to tickle me." Steals spoons from restaurants and in so doing is overjoyed. Worries what you will think if you look closely at the panties on the floor in her place, as in, "He probably thinks I got raped by Wolverine last night because my dog munches on the crotch of all my underwear, and they have teeth marks in them and, like, yeah, I don't have a weird fetish or stainless-steel anything going on down there."
She pulls over into the passing lane, where a car already is, and when that driver honks, she yells, "What are you honking at? You're the one that's an *******!"
Rousey says she doesn't care about not having a boyfriend. "If it's just about sex, I could get laid any old time. It's not about that. It's not like I have this fleeting window of time where I can have a sex life, whereas I do have this fleeting window of time where I can accomplish all these other things. If anything, it'll be better for my sex life if I get all this other **** done, because I'll be more durable afterward."
Back inside her place, she greets Mochi, then takes a request and goes to stand in front of a full-length mirror to display the face she puts on during every fight right before the referee claps his hands and bellows, "Let's get it on!" Her fight face. "I call it mean mugging," she says, dropping into it, almost shyly. "You're staring at your opponent through your eyebrows."
She backs away from the mirror and says people who think she's impassive at such moments have it wrong. "I'm not looking blankly," she says. "You have to have intent, because people can read what you're thinking, and so I'm thinking of all the things I'm gonna do. Like with Cat Zingano. She's a sweet girl, super-awesome chick. But every single time I looked at her, I thought, 'I'm gonna send her home unrecognizable to her own child.' My mind just goes there. To terrible things. But then when the fight's over, I go from the most dangerous woman on the planet to the most cuddly, happy thing ever. I fall in love with everybody, even the person I just beat. I love that person for giving me that moment. I'll never hate them for wanting the same thing I do. I love them for it. Because I need them in order to be able to do what I do for myself."
But then, of course, there's always the next fight and the next opponent to hate, and hate them she will, because that's how she wins, and she will do anything to win. "I love heights, love bugs, loved to dig up earthworms, like snakes and slimy things, jumping off things, fire," she says. "I'm fine with all of it, always thought I'd be great on Fear Factor, because I'd eat that goat **** just like that. It's the thought of failing. That is my one and only big fear."
From The Archives Issue 1236: June 4, 2015