Open letter to Ronda Rousey

By Sierra Trujillo

Dear Ronda Rousey,
First things first, please don’t hunt me down and punch me for anything I say. Please. It’ll hurt and you could probably kill me with one even not-so-good hit. (Forget the probably, it’s a fact.) Another thing, this is more a series of questions for you than anything. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn into that lady from Tennessee who got very, very upset about Cam Newton dancing in the end zone.
I’ve recently finished reading your book, My Fight/ Your Fight. I tend to read a lot (an average of 45 books per year) and as part of this year’s “challenge” (the only New Year’s resolution I can ever keep) I wanted to read as many sports memoirs as I could, with the ultimate goal being 10. Yours just so happened to have come first (mostly because it seemed like the most interesting one on my shelf, which is saying a lot).
Obviously, your book was published before your most recent fight against Holly Holm. And also obviously, I read your book after that fight. When your book was published you were undefeated; by the time I read your book you unfortunately were not (you’re still my favorite).
My most pressing question, which racked my brain the whole four days I read your book (I promise it would have taken less time if I didn’t work.), is if your book would have been written any differently if you had written it after that fight. It’s no secret that you’re cocky and confident; you even talk about why you act that way, and I appreciate your honesty. Your attitude of being the best, because no one has worked harder than you (and I don’t doubt that) is layered thick throughout telling your story. Has that outlooked changed since your loss? No matter the answer to that, would you have changed your tone in your book if written afterwards? It’s a consistent message that you’re the best. Do you still consider yourself that?
Okay, serious questions out of the way… here comes the questions I’m really interested in. You mention one time and one time only carrying a bassoon. Specifically, “She (a very unfortunate bully) would make fun of me carrying my bassoon through the hallway.” Please. Please please please. Tell me, and every other person who read your book (which should be every sports fan, ever) more about this bassoon. You’re a tough, judo-fighting sixth-grader who fights with her sisters more than I fight with my brothers, which again is saying a lot. What on earth led you to play the bassoon? If you answer one question of mine at all, please answer this one. Thanks.
In every story you told, your memories were so vivid and you recall exact conversations with people you had over the years, from conversations with your father to people you may have talked to only once. And I endlessly thought “Did she know from the time she was young that she was going to end up writing a book? Because that’s what this seems like.” And then I thought, “Yeah, she seems like the type of person that knew from the day she stepped on the judo mat, and even before that, that she would end up writing a book about her life story one day.” And then you said it, “I’m going to be super successful one day, and I’m going to write a book. It’s going to be a kickass autobiography.” And I immediately thought “Yes, I was right.” But, when did you know that you were going to be cool enough, successful enough and “kickass” enough to write a book about yourself? At what point was that evident to you? Because it seems like it was engrained in your mind from the day you were born.
And last, but certainly not least, did you mean to make me cry like a little baby when you wrote about your mom waving your father’s flag in the stands when you won the bronze medal at the Olympics? You said that the flag, which was folded up and given to your mother at your father’s funeral, stay folded for many years. And at that point, I didn’t even think of a connection being made later. But as soon as you said you saw your mom in the stands with a flag at the Olympics, I knew. And I cried. And cried. Was this your intent? Did you want me to be on my lunch break, wiping the tears away from my face before any of my coworkers saw me? Because it happened.
I know that your story is not over. I know that even after 300 pages, your story is still just beginning. And I hope (and maybe beg and plead) that you continue to share your journey with avid readers like me, who would much rather read about your story from an autobiography than through maybe-true tabloids. (And those only focus on who you may be dating anyway and that’s dumb.)
Sincerely,
A big fan with even bigger questions