“How was your New Year’s Eve party?”
“Pretty good.”
“That’s good, did you have fun?”
“I did, yeah.”
“That’s good too. Did you like everyone there?”
“No, the host is the worst.”
“Oh, yeah that’s unfortunate. Why are they the worst?”
“He’s a loudmouth who believes his own hype and isn’t shy about pulling rank or big-timing people.”
“Oh man, that’s a bummer. Nobody likes a loudmouth who believes their own hype and isn’t shy about pulling rank or big-timing people.”
“Right?”
“For sure. Too bad too, because without him the whole party doesn’t even happen and you wouldn’t have had a good time at all, even if his irritating qualities might have rubbed you the wrong way a few times throughout the night.”
Imagine for a moment, if you will, that you just had this conversation or one reasonably close to it with the guy in the cubicle next to you. He had fun on New Year’s but didn’t like the person hosting because said host was a little bit arrogant, a little bit full of himself and could be utterly grating sometimes.
Still though, that host was the only reason your coworker had a party to go to, and he had enough fun that maybe it’s not the most appropriate thing for him to complain about.
That situation is very much an analogy for where MMA sits today as a result of Ronda Rousey. People don’t have to like the way she carries herself, her attitude or the general hoopla that’s accompanied her for the past few years, but without her this whole “women in the UFC” party we’re all having so much fun at wouldn’t have happened.
Yet following her most recent setback at the hands of Amanda Nunes at UFC 207—the second such thrashing she’s taken in as many fights—it became vogue to opine, for better or worse, on Rousey.
Lebron James and Kobe Bryant came to her defense. Still others chose to get their digs in.
She was the hottest topic in the sport and one of the hottest in sports, once again, as she has been so many times in the past.
It’s all suggestive of something obvious, something that went without saying before Holly Holm exposed the myth, but that has receded to the shadows in the time since: Like it or not, Rousey broke the ultimate glass ceiling.
Consider these universal, categorical, undeniable truths about her run since 2012:
- She was openly noted as being the sole reason Dana White changed his stance on women in the UFC.
- She was the first ever UFC women’s bantamweight champion, but also the first in any form whatsoever.
- She defended her title six times, good for fifth all time in UFC history.
- Only one of those defenses lasted more than a round, and four were over in 1:06 or less.
That’s a sterling resume by any metric.
And yes, there are holes one can poke in her run if they want, but aside from the notion that the division was developing while she was on top and that made for a wide competitive gap between her and most challengers, most are of little merit.
She fought Miesha Tate, who beat Holm in Holm’s first title defense, and beat her on two occasions.
She finished fellow Olympian Sara McMann, jiu-jitsu black belt Alexis Davis and elite contender Cat Zingano in succession and stopped all three in seconds.
She once fought on a 56-day turnaround, a UFC record for shortest duration between title defenses that’s sure to hold up for a while.
She nearly became a million-seller pay-per-view draw in the blow-off of her feud with Bethe Correia, then broke that barrier in the loss against Holm and may do it again with the Nunes fight.
She’s mentioned ahead of every name in the company save for Conor McGregor in terms of starpower, and many would tell you she’s a bigger mainstream star than the Irishman thanks to time spent schmoozing with names like Ellen and Conan.
That’s the resume and reputation of a pioneer. It’s the resume and reputation of an icon, a person who grabbed on to what guys did to push the sport forward in the public conscience before her and push it forward that much further.
Sure, nobody is wildly fond of a person who can’t decide if they want to tell everyone what they think about everything or if they want to hide in a bunker until it’s time to hit the scales, but the objective criteria of that person’s impact remain unimpeachable either way. All the FTAs in the world don’t change that.
In the case of Rousey, it’s not relevant whether she talks or doesn’t talk, promotes or doesn’t promote or even wins or doesn’t win—it’s about the impact she’s already made on the sport. Sure, a person’s character counts. And if you think Rousey has serious character flaws, so be it. But don’t use that as a distraction to take away from what she accomplished.
If Rousey never throws another punch, never talks another word of trash, never shows her face in public again, the fact remains: Ronda Rousey did break through the ultimate glass ceiling and her legacy, for all its complexity, should be respected as such.
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