I will be glad when it is over. I feel that way about every tournament Ronda fights in. When she wins, I am happy for her, but up until then, I am just nervous, worried she will get hurt, worried she will lose and feel bad.
Maria and Jenn, my two old daughters, think this is funny. Jenn tells me,
"You should worry about the other woman."
Yes, Ronda wins a lot and I expect her to win again this weekend. No, no one in this division in the U.S. has beaten her ever. Still, they don't give you a koka to start the match just because you beat her the last six times. She needs to go out and make it easy for the referee to give her the ippon.
Tomorrow, I will pick Julia up from school, drive to Las Vegas, take Ronda away from all of the media people and the genuine well-wishers and the phony well-wishers who secretly hope she breaks a leg. We will have our perpetual mother- daughter argument.
"How's your weight?"
"My weight is fine, Mom. Don't worry. I'm a kilo over. I'll lose it overnight."
"Maybe you should go out and run."
"Mom, I'm FINE! I've made weight a hundred times without you being there. "
Me, disapprovingly ...
"Ronda, you really shouldn't be a kilo over the night before."
"MO-O-OM! You're so annoying!"
"I'm just saying..."
"I hope you aren't taking this tournament too lightly. You know, they don't just lay down for you because you're Ronda Rousey."
"Mom! I've been training three times a day. Does that sound like I'm taking it seriously?"
I'll be glad when it's over and we can go to the Coca-Cola store and drink floats from around the world. Then it will be the Kunihiros' and the Fujimotos' and the Flores' turn to worry.