Ronda Rousey: ‘I never wanted to talk about concussion. It felt like a weakness’
Donald McRae
The former MMA fighter, once described as ‘the world’s most dominant athlete’, reveals her fears for the future after a career riddled with glory and pain
Donald McRae
Sun 31 Mar 2024 03.00 EDT
‘I worry about it because we already have Alzheimer’s and dementia in our family, and those family members did not get whacked on the head a whole bunch,” Ronda Rousey says as she considers a future shrouded by the consequences of concussion and a past where she broke so many barriers for women before a shattering fall.
At her peak, in 2015, Rousey was described by Sports Illustrated as “the world’s most dominant athlete”. She had changed a brutal sport to become the face of the UFC, the billion-dollar juggernaut which drives the popularity of Mixed Martial Arts.
Apart from being the first woman signed by the deeply conservative UFC in 2012, Rousey had built a formidable 15-0 record in which her bouts lasted an average 34 seconds. But her ferocity was built on a hidden vulnerability. Rousey had suffered so many concussions in judo that she knew her brain could not withstand multiple more blows to the head. It was vital that she brought her fights in the UFC to a violent conclusion before she absorbed much punishment.
Rousey can now share her secret and is moving and amusing company as she reflects on the consequences of so many concussions. “Every time I forget my keys or lose my phone, I’m like: ‘I’m DYING! It’s OVER!” she says as she shouts out those words with comic flair.
She has just turned 37 and Rousey is thoughtful again. “Part of me has declined and I have moments where I’ll be singing my daughter a lullaby and I’ll get a word wrong. I’ll be like: ‘Oh my God! This is it [the onset of dementia]!’ On the drive home this morning, after dropping off my daughter for her first day of pre-school, I was passing corners I’d passed hundreds of times and, for a moment, I was like ‘Where am I?’ And then it’s a case of ‘Oh yeah’.”
Ronda Rousey launches an attack on Sarah Kaufman during the Strikeforce event in 2012. Photograph: Esther Lin/Forza LLC/Getty Images
We all have moments of brain-fade but, for Rousey, it carries a tangled undertow. Her new book, written with her sister Maria Burns Ortiz, is often gripping and, at its best, offers a raw personal history of concussion. She began judo at the age of 11 and, driven by the aim of winning an Olympic gold medal, Rousey tried to evade the fact “I’d been compounding concussion after concussion for so many years”.
She shrugs when I ask how many concussions she might have had in a calendar year as a young woman. “It’s hard to say because I wouldn’t rest when I had a concussion. I would continue to train and keep re-aggravating it. So instead of having symptoms for a few days, I would have them for weeks or even months. Most of the year I would be having concussion symptoms. There are grades of severity but my worst was being thrown on the back of my head at the Pan-American [Judo] Championships in Argentina. I completely blacked out till the next morning.”
Rousey’s concerns were ignored. “I’d be treated like I was complaining about a headache. People would say: ‘Your head hurts? Suck it up. What if your head hurts during the Olympics?’ That’s how I was taught to deal with it from a very young age. It became a way of life.”
Her mother, AnnMaria [Burns], had become the first American to win the world judo championships in 1984. She then lost her husband, and Ronda her father, after Ron Rousey took his life. Ronda was eight years old. Amid such adversity, AnnMaria began coaching Ronda and helped her win a gold medal at the 2004 World Junior Judo Championships and bronze at the 2008 Olympic Games.
When Ronda was a girl, there was little scientific knowledge about concussion in the public domain. “My mother just didn’t understand concussion,” she says. “Nobody did because research only started coming out towards the end of my judo career. I was afraid of it and tried to suppress it. I’d had so many more concussions than anybody else in a 10-year judo career and so when I started doing MMA I didn’t want anyone to know. They already had enough reasons to try and stop me going into MMA and then the UFC. I didn’t want to give them any more about concussion and I was lucky to have the skills to win most fights really quick.” Rousey is suitably scathing about the ignorant machismo that haunts MMA and boxing: “People talk about your ‘chin’ with such reverence. It’s thrown around like it’s a personality trait or a sign of your willpower to absorb blows. That’s another reason why I never wanted to talk about concussion. It felt like it was a personal weakness and not a neurological degeneration I’ve been experiencing since I was a child.”
Ronda Rousey (blue) on her way to beating Germany’s Annett Boehm in their women’s -70kg judo bronze medal match at the 2008 Olympic Games. Photograph: Olivier Morin/AFP/Getty Images
She pushes her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose. “It sucks because you see what happened to a lot of these fighters. Muhammad Ali is one of my heroes and he had the greatest chin. But look what happened. I am not judging anyone as I would also accept living my life in a wheelchair if that was the price I had to pay to achieve all I did. I respect Ali for being willing to live that life because that’s something I tried to do as well.
“I hope I don’t end up that way but you never know. It might be decades later when you understand you’ve taken one hit too many. When you have kids and family, it’s much harder to gamble on your future. I went from being the most eligible bachelorette on earth to instant family, and it completely changes your priorities.”
Rousey experienced a whirlpool of fame which she has now gladly exchanged for a serene life on a regenerative farm she runs with her husband Travis Browne, the former UFC fighter, who has two teenage boys. The couple have two young children of their own and, surrounded by family and animals, Rousey has found a way to heal herself after the catastrophic end to her UFC domination.
The most powerful pages in Rousey’s book document the aftermath of her crushing first defeat when the former boxer Holly Holm knocked her out in front of the UFC’s then largest-ever crowd of 56,000 fans in Melbourne, and more than a million people who had paid to watch the broadcast in November 2015. Holm’s first punch concussed Rousey. It also split the champion’s lower lip wide open.
At the end of the round, Rousey bit off a small chunk of distended flesh, “ripping my teeth into my own lip like you would an apple”, and spat it out. She still feels the missing part of her inside lip today and remembers the desolation of her locker room after being knocked out in the second round.