Let’s talk about Ronda Rousey for a moment.
The mixed martial arts champion has been in the news a lot, most recently because longtime Cubs minor leaguer Anthony Giansanti has been leaving a ticket for her at every Triple-A game he plays.
Giansanti is smitten with Rousey, who clearly had never heard of him until, we’re suspecting, this whole thing blew up on the Twitter-sphere. Every game, whether in Des Moines or some other stop along the way, Giansanti writes Rousey’s name on the “guest’’ sheet at the ballpark, hoping for her arrival.
Rousey is a pretty woman—when she’s not bruised and grimacing and sweating like a horse as she arm-bars some poor female into submission faster than you could holler, “Help me, Ronda!’’ But with makeup on and her hair done up right she is attractive enough to pass for a model—a sturdy one, of course, but one very much a part of the active women’s sports movement.
There is a thought that goes instantly through most men’s minds when pondering Rousey. And that is: how long would it take for her to turn me into a blubbering pretzel. (Me, personally? I would not get near her in a ring without a Taser.)
Then there are those ultra-macho guys who would like to try to whip her butt in a parking lot or back alley or even octagon. They’d like to prove that the former Olympic judo medalist should just get back to kitchen work or dress-making.
There was the now famous response from boxing champ Floyd Mayweather who, when asked a year ago how he thought he’d do in a fight with Rousey, said, “I don’t even know who he is.’’
Rousey taunted Mayweather when she won a the fighter-of-the-year award at the recent ESPY’s, saying, “I’d like to see you pretend to not know who I am now.’’
Rousey has had numerous photo sessions with fashion photographers, including Sports Illustrated. She was on the cover of the 2012 ESPN the Magazine “Body’’ issue, blond hair flowing, buck-naked except for pink boxing tape on her fists, pre-wraps that said, “Built to Fight’’ in white-on-black lettering. Her come-hither facial expression said, in equal parts, “Kiss me,’’ and “I’ll kill you.’’
We don’t know a whole lot about Giansanti, except his Twitter photo shows him shirtless, back turned, arms raised to the sky, muscles bulging from everywhere. Ripped, but joyful.
Nor does he (apparently) want to fight, wrestle or otherwise combat Rousey. He seems to be in love with her. So sad, so unrequited. Every day, a ticket. Every day, no Ronda.
Two weeks ago Giansanti tweeted: “Hey @cubs fans help me get @RondaRousey to be my date to @D_Geiger ‘s wedding this fall…her and I are a perfect match #DoItForLove’’
Not sure who D. Geiger is, or where he’s getting married. But Rousey should check this thing out.
Root for your minor league Cub, Chicago. It could be a match made in muscle heaven.
