Full Transcript — Edmond Tarverdyan Interview on Ronda Rousey, Joe Rogan and the Fights That Ended Everything | INSIGHT Podcast

In this episode of INSIGHT, Emma Sargsyan sits down with Edmond Tarverdyan — founder of Glendale Fighting Club and the coach behind Ronda Rousey's rise to global stardom — for his most personal long-form interview to date. Tarverdyan responds directly to Joe Rogan and the commentators who blamed him for Rousey's losses, reveals what really happened in the 28 days before the Holly Holm fight, and answers the one question Ronda never asked him. Below is the full transcript of their conversation.

https://youtu.be/HscFDRss2pM?si=VCVB2cjcbatwOmi4

Episode Highlights

"Even Joe Rogan — all these guys doing big podcasts and talking about it — it's just dumb as f***. Of course I want her to take her down. That's her bread and butter. If she wins, I win."

"She was in the bathtub for eight hours. She couldn't drop half a pound. She was miserable that fight. Everything was wrong in that fight."

"There's a saying: when you outshine the master, that's what's going to happen." — on Ronda Rousey's mother calling him a terrible coach [ADD TIMESTAMP]

"It hurt me. I didn't leave the house or speak to anybody... I didn't leave the room for like two weeks."

"She would say: 'Are you still proud of me?' And I would hug her and say: yes."

FULL TRANSCRIPT

Lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Emma Sargsyan: Sitting in front of me is a person who has trained about 90% of the Armenian fighters who end up in the UFC. His name is Edmond Tarverdyan, and I have a lot of questions — about the UFC, about how to get there, about the people he has trained and the people he is training. Edmond, thank you very much for being here today.

Edmond Tarverdyan: Thank you for having me.

Emma: Before I start the hard questions about the things you did and the legends you've trained — you built Glendale Fighting Club out of an old showroom on Brand Boulevard. When you were doing this, what was in your mind? What did you think it would achieve?

Edmond: I was 16 when I started my first gym. It was on Maple. My coach opened up another gym in North Hollywood and there were a few months left on the lease. We had about 10 students, and he was more focused on the North Hollywood gym — he got married — and he told me, just continue with these 10 students until the lease is over, we'll figure it out. I was only 16. And when I started coaching, a lot of kids came back, because I was one of the best athletes in the gym and I was competing at that time. Three months later we had 50, 60 kids, and the parents were saying, "You're so good. Please don't let us down. The kids love you and you have to coach." So I didn't even want to become a coach — it just happened. I think I was gifted to speak and motivate the kids.

And of course, as you go, you make so many mistakes. For the first 10 years I thought I was the best coach, and I didn't realize that I wasn't. Now I'm ready to say that. After 10 years of experience, you start seeing everything differently. I used to coach so much — I would get out of high school, come to the gym, open it up, coach until 10:00, then do privates until 12 at night. So many hours from a young age. And it was difficult to get the attention of the parents — all older than me — and get them to trust me. It wasn't easy, but I had good mentors. My coaches were great — Ken Artonian, and Coach Nazo, who has Nazo Boxing and is still doing great. They would guide me, and if I had questions, I would ask. I think that's very important — you don't shy away, you don't think you're the best, and you ask for advice.

But I was 16, and we had to put the gym under my brother's name, because legally I couldn't open a gym at that age.

Emma: You weren't old enough?

Edmond: I wasn't old enough. So we did that, and after about 10 years of coaching there, I got the location on Brand that you're talking about. It was actually a printing shop, not a body shop — but it's surrounded by body shops, so people think that. The city didn't let me do it at first. I had to get the mayor involved. Frank Quintero, the mayor at that time, really helped me. There were council members — a few of them Armenian — who voted against me, and I thought, why? The zoning wasn't approved because they wanted that zoning elsewhere, on San Fernando. I said I'm not comfortable going there — there were bad things going on in that area, especially back in those days — this is a safer place. Our argument was good enough, and Frank helped me get the place.

And boxing events were banned in Glendale — they didn't let them happen because they thought the crowds would fight each other. I said, at American football games in high school, they fight — it's part of sports. We got the waiver to start promoting boxing. Then they put a case on me in Glendale — operating a business without the zoning licenses — so I went through hell for about two years to get the business license to operate the gym. It was difficult: there are no gyms out there over 2,000 square feet, and my place is 4,000 — you need parking variances, everything. I went through hell, but I never gave up, and we finally made it happen.

That's the gym where everything turned around. I got great fighters. And I think the reason was my experience — not the location. Great athletes will find great coaches, because they do their research and they want to earn the attention of the trainer. I have a son who plays soccer, and I always tell him: the coach will show up when you're ready to work. You want to work extra? Trust me, a great coach with a good heart will not say no. A lot of people saw the dedication I had and the time I put in, and that's when everything turned around.

Emma: You were 16. The parents trusted you — did you realize the responsibility you were taking on, or were you too young to realize it?

Edmond: I was too young to realize it, I think, because I was a little too strict, a little too crazy back in the days — especially when it was all Armenians in my gym, tucked away in the plaza where you couldn't even see the door. Having the stick in our hands, punishing kids — that's what we learned. And the parents loved it.

Emma: Now you cannot do that.

Edmond: Now you cannot do that. But the parents loved it — they even wanted it stricter. When I look back, I had crazy fighters. If I had those kids now — with the experience, the connections, the way I see things now — let's say in the UFC there are five Armenian fighters, and three of them are kids I trained from a young age. I would have had maybe 10, 20 kids in there.

Emma: You became very famous by training Ronda Rousey. Initially, you were not interested in training her — you were busy with boxers and other fighters. What was the tipping point that changed your mind?

Edmond: That's a great question. I think she understood my personality. She wrote about it in her first book — it's full of my pictures and her pictures, it's mostly about me and her, our relationship, how we trained together. Her mom had been beside her in judo — real strict, pushing her to the limit. And when she saw my personality, she learned that I didn't care. I didn't think she should be in the sport, because women fighters did not make the money they should have been making at that time. I said it's better she does something else — even though she was talented, and I noticed that. She was an Olympic medalist. But I didn't even know her last name, to be honest.

She fought with me. I had a fighter I had to corner, he had to make weight, and I said, "I don't want to work with you, I don't want to sweat." And she went crazy — she had driven all that way, she'd spent so much time trying to get from Venice to my gym — and she started swearing, telling me this is not right. I threw her out of the gym. And then I thought: she's a girl, and why is she that emotional about it? She really wants me to work with her. So I called her back, I gave her the keys, and I said: just come train. When I did that, she knew she had my attention. You want to work? Here are the keys — it's your gym. You arrive earlier than everybody. Which she did. And she worked so hard. That was the turning point. She knew if she could press my buttons and get my attention, I would work with her.

Emma: What were the early years like, before she became one of the most famous athletes in the world?

Edmond: Before we turned professional, she had six amateur fights and won all six in the first round. Her first amateur fight — I didn't even know she had a date to fight. Her manager back then, Darin Harvey, called me and asked, "Are you around?" I was with my friend Chris and I said, maybe we should go corner this girl — she's an Olympic medalist. When we went, she was so excited. "What do I do?" I said, "Let me wrap your hands." When I wrapped her hands, she said, "I could kill people with these hand wraps." I looked at her and thought: this girl's crazy.

She warmed up, got in there, finished the fight. Did exactly what I asked: keep your hands up, move forward, grab her, take her down, use your judo — that's what you're best at. Nobody can back up and kick you or punch you at this level. I trust you 100%. And she did it. From that day, I knew she was special. When I came back, I asked for her last name — I genuinely didn't know it. And in judo, the American team is not strong — U.S. wrestling is very strong, but for judo you look at Russia, Georgia, France, the European countries. So I thought, how good could she be?

Then I researched her, and her amateur fight had over 200,000 views on YouTube within days. An amateur fight in a gym in Chatsworth — how is this possible? That's when I saw the fan base she had from judo. She was the first American woman to win an Olympic bronze in judo, and her mom was a world champion, one of the first in judo. She had a name.

And Gary Shaw — Vic Darchinyan's boxing promoter — had created Elite XC, the promotion where Gina Carano became the first big female star. I was training Vic at the time, so I called Gary and asked how much Gina got paid. He said $200,000. I said, all right — that's not bad. At least she could make something. And I knew Ronda could beat Gina. This girl's a beast — all she needs is a takedown. So I told her: you could do something with this, you could support yourself financially at least. And even when she reached the point of making $200,000, I told her, "I don't need anything from you, because I believe you could do more." As the UFC picked her up, I knew she was going to fight for $10 million. It was a no-brainer, because I saw the numbers — her view stats were as high as preseason NFL games. How is this possible?

I was there for her whole career, all the way through the UFC, until she lost and retired. And this last comeback fight, she called me and said, "I just want to do it with my family, inside my house." She didn't need me. I told her: you could beat her today if you just got up from sleep. And that's exactly what happened — it was over in seconds.

Emma: Gina was 46. I don't want to take anything away from Ronda — it's not easy to fight at that age, and it was a beautiful moment for both of them. But I want to ask about those 48 seconds. Even if Gina was in her prime — could she beat Ronda?

Edmond: No way. Impossible.

Emma: You trained Ronda for five years, and then she lost — and then you heard some horrible things about you. You've mentioned her mom, and I want to quote: she said you are "a terrible coach and a bad person." Personally, I don't think that should be said about a person who trained her daughter for five years — over a loss. What did it feel like to hear that from the family of a person you had put your heart, your time, your resources into?

Edmond: It doesn't feel right, of course. I felt bad. But I had good guidance. I said what I had to say, and Ronda said what she had to say — she said, "I'm still here in the gym, and nothing's going to change my mind." That says: Edmond's still my coach, I trust him, and we're going to keep doing this. That made me happy.

There's no need for anyone to speak badly about anybody's mom, and I didn't. I honestly felt this was going to happen sooner or later — for the first three, four years, her mom didn't even have my phone number. She asked at the table once, "Could I have Edmond's phone number?" And I said, "Ask your daughter — she has my number." You know, there's a saying: when you outshine the master, that's what's going to happen. She had put so much time into Ronda. And I always told Ronda: if you want your mom to corner the fights with us, I'm open to that — of course, I'm the head trainer, and she doesn't know MMA; judo she does, but there's a gi in judo, and this is not judo. And Ronda said no. So she knew I was always open to working with her mom. There's a reason Ronda said no. It's not my fault.

Then Ronda found a boyfriend — who was also a trainer in my gym — and I was strict about every training session, so a little back-and-forth started happening. That's when her mom made a big deal out of it. Which happens — she wants to protect her daughter. And they're married now, with two kids, so I think everything worked out for the best for her.

But all this "bad coach" talk — I trained a kid who came to my gym at 10 years old; at 18 he was ranked in the top 10, and he's still in the UFC fighting top-10 fighters. Those kids trained with me, they were training partners with Ronda, and they had no special physical gifts — all they had was work ethic, and I got him into the UFC top 10 as a teenager, making over six figures a fight. Such a terrible coach, right? There's nothing else I can do except make more world champions — which we're going to do. Everybody who's trained with me knows the level and the experience I have.

Emma: After the loss to Holly Holm, and the dramatic 48-second loss to Amanda Nunes, almost every analysis pointed to the same thing: that you kept her standing and boxing against world-class strikers instead of leaning into the judo and grappling that made her dominant. Looking back with a sober eye — was that criticism right?

Edmond: It's stupidity. Even Joe Rogan — all these guys doing big podcasts and talking about it — it's just dumb as f***. That's what I think. Because of course I want her to take her down. That's her bread and butter. If she wins, I win. Why would I tell her not to work on the takedown? It's black and white for me. We're going to win, and the way we're going to win is with a takedown.

So where does this analysis come from? Because the fight stayed standing and she couldn't get the clinch. Holly had a great game plan. Holly Holm is a lefty. When you fight a lefty, it's much harder to clinch, because the punch from the back hand comes straight into your face, into your liver. Ronda had fought all her fights against orthodox fighters before Holly. Two, three years earlier, I said the toughest fight out there is Holly Holm — there's a podcast where I say that. Why? Because she's a lefty. You have to be patient with a lefty; you can't rush in. Ronda tried to clinch, and she did clinch — but before that, she was hit, she was hurt. She did take Holly down. She did attack the arm. And look at the first round — with about a minute left, Ronda wobbles Holly. Both of Holly's legs were gone. Nobody talks about that, but I saw it, our coaches saw it. She was out on her feet. How did she recover? Because she has 38 professional boxing matches. Anybody else doesn't survive that shot. Then she stopped the takedowns, survived the armbar — great coaches in that corner, Jon Jones trained there, Mike Winkeljohn's team.

And Ronda took that fight on 28 days' notice. She wasn't supposed to fight — that was three fights in one year. She couldn't make weight. She called me, and I said, "Why are you even calling me? I know you already said yes" — because I know what kind of fighter she is. She would always say, "I'll be ready to fight in a week." So now she has to make weight, she's coming off vacation in Australia, we get thrown in there — the worst possible matchup — with 28 days to prepare. She was in the bathtub for eight hours. She couldn't drop half a pound. She was miserable that fight. Everything was wrong in that fight.

Emma: Did you know she was not going to make it?

Edmond: No — because I still believed in her and trusted her. If she had followed the game plan, I think she would have finished her. But she's such a fighter — when you get caught early, it's like Mike Tyson when he got caught. People like that are so strong mentally, they don't back down. And that cost her more. The more she pressed forward, the more she got hit — because now you're fighting a counter-puncher. I wish she was scared a little bit. She would have won that fight. But she would never be scared.

Emma: Did it psychologically affect her going into the Nunes fight?

Edmond: Absolutely. After a fight like that — come on. And even before it: 28 days' notice, eight hours in the bathtub. Regardless of how tough she is, how much she doesn't show it — I knew. After the weigh-ins she wouldn't sleep much; I would make sure she walked, ate, got her health back. And we fought in the morning, Australia time — that cost us too; we couldn't recover as much. When we lost, I was like, is this a dream? At midnight I'm thinking: we lost the fight. How is this possible? Amanda Nunes destroys Ronda Rousey. It was tough. But you learn.

I remember when I knocked on her door — that was the first time Travis Browne was with her, the first time she had somebody with her in the room. She always used to stay alone that week when we traveled — watching fights with me, making sure the game plan was right. I knocked on the door and she was sleeping. We had never had that. So many things were different.

Emma: Was she supposed to be sleeping?

Edmond: No, she wasn't. She was drained. She was so tired she had no choice — I saw it in her eyes.

Emma: Could she have pulled out of the fight?

Edmond: At that level? She would never. If you're that miserable and they check your heart rate, if the doctors say that's it — they could call the fight off. But with her? Impossible.

Emma: From what I understand — you could see this coming. You knew, almost for sure. But you had so much belief in her that you didn't say a word.

Edmond: I wish I did. I wish I did. You have to look at them as your child at times. And if you don't, you make mistakes — when you trust them too much and believe too much, this is what happens. I've made my mistakes too, and I'll take the blame. Okay — wrong game plan? Okay. Do it better than me. You've had champions? No, you didn't. So I don't even want to hear it — but fine, say it. They say it on the internet. I admit my mistakes — that's reasonable. But theirs is not reasonable. "You taught her to stand up and trade" — for God's sake, come on. Where does that make sense? Like she's that naive? Even if I said it, she would say, "Are you stupid?" An athlete at that level has a relationship with the trainer. You're not going to force anybody to do anything — especially in the United States, and especially a woman. No way.

Emma: It's very easy to blame. A lot of people — amateurs with no idea what's really going on — just hand out advice. It's easy to blame when you don't know what's happening inside the person's mind. That's why I'm asking: is there a version of those fights in your mind that you've never said publicly? If you could go back, would you have kept her from taking that fight?

Edmond: No. Listen — I knew she was good. Even though those eight hours in the bathtub were very hard, and the last half-pound was so difficult. You shouldn't be in a bathtub for eight hours to make weight. It's miserable. It's unhealthy. But hey — getting hit is bad already. Am I going to pull out at that second? No. Is she going to let me? No. And if I had seen fainting, her eyes rolling back, her pale, not speaking, not reacting — I would have called the ambulance. Yes, I would have. Because I know my heart, and she knows how much I loved and cared about her. I would not risk her.

And would her career and life be any different if I had called it off? No. Losses come for everybody. And what kind of a loss was it? Max Kellerman said it best. He said: Edmond — with this loss, the whole world is talking about her fight. The whole world was talking about that fight. So did she really lose, or did she win? It's not only about the result. It's about what you do with that fight.

Emma: Had she won, would it have been just another win?

Edmond: The next fight she would have won regardless — it was Miesha Tate. When Holly beat Ronda, Miesha beat Holly — and Ronda had already beaten Miesha twice. The second time, Ronda trained 30 days. She had been acting, making movies; she came back skinny and lean and had to regain her speed and power. She was in Bulgaria and I built a training program for her remotely — I couldn't travel because I had Darchinyan and all my fighters. I knew she would beat Miesha regardless, so I took that risk. She wasn't even in shape, and she still beat Miesha.

So Miesha won the belt from Holly, and Ronda could have fought Miesha and won the belt back easily. But she didn't want to fight. She was tired, she had lost, and I agreed — after a fight like that, you want time off. If it was a guy, I would have said get your ass up and do it. But she was so emotional about it, and it was such a big loss, so I understood. I'm sure she thinks about it — why didn't I get up and beat Miesha? And then she never would have fought Amanda.

But Amanda is a great champion and fought a great fight. Coming off a loss like that into a tougher fight — I don't think it's right. But the UFC doesn't care; that's why the promotion is so big. In boxing, we would have taken a tune-up fight — an easier fight to get your mind right first, then the body. We didn't have that chance. She said, "I'm ready, I'm going to do this." We went out to Frazier Park, did a good camp, trained hard, and she was fit. Ronda was ready. But the mental and psychological do so much more than the physical — because physically, she was so ready. She took 15, 20 shots to the face and she didn't drop. Guys can't take those punches. Amanda clipped Cyborg with one punch right in front of me, and Cyborg was out. Ronda took more than 15 clean shots on her jaw and was still on her feet when the referee waved it off. That's crazy.

Emma: From everything I'm hearing, you deeply cared about her — not only as an athlete, but as a person. What did it do to you — standing in the corner, watching her lose so dramatically, knowing deep inside it was coming?

Edmond: It hurt me. It hurt me. I didn't leave the house or speak to anybody. Even in Brazil, when we fought Bethe Correia — crazy things were happening, and I didn't leave the room for about two weeks. Then one of the coaches said, "Let's go to the beach, you'll refresh yourself," and I listened, and it was good for me. I did my job 100%, with my ability and my experience. It hurt me a lot — but I've been through worse.

I had a friend I cornered who suffered a brain hemorrhage after a fight. He went into the locker room yelling that his head was spinning, that he couldn't see, and he started throwing up. I ran and called the ambulance. We were in the hospital for days, making sure it wouldn't bleed through, because he could have fallen into a coma. Thank God it didn't happen. That was my worst time. I really wanted to stop coaching fighters. And when I looked at him in that hospital, he said, "They're not going to let me fight anymore." That's what he was worried about in that moment. That broke me. From that, I learned to train fighters so much harder: if you want to fight, you'd better know this can happen. I made sure they were ready. I think it made me better. But I really wanted to stop. I didn't go to the gym for two months after that.

Emma: So it was a trauma you endured. Have you ever seriously thought — I'm not doing this anymore?

Edmond: No. But I don't encourage any kid to fight. I encourage them to learn to defend themselves, to do it as a sport, even a secondary sport — to feel good about themselves, to learn discipline, all the great things martial arts and boxing give you. It disciplines the crazy ones — once you start boxing, you realize you should do this in the gym instead of outside. There's so much art in it. I still train kids now. But I will never say "go fight, go compete." It has to be their decision.

I just had a national champion three months ago — 15 years old, and no Armenian kid had won nationals like that. We had a US Olympian, Vanes Martirosyan — God rest his soul, he was one of our fighters. I trained him; he won the WBC Silver title at Staples Center. And this kid won the nationals at 15. His parents wanted it, his dad is involved, they research the dates, get the licenses, book the hotels. We went four matches and he took the gold at 15. I wish he was a year or two older — he's ranked number one in the US, but the Olympic timing won't work for him because of the age requirements. So the next step will be professional, or a long wait.

Emma: You're a parent yourself — your son plays soccer. What makes parents push their children into fighting sports, which are genuinely dangerous? Would you do that?

Edmond: I would never do that. My son plays soccer; he doesn't fight. But he trained in my gym, and it helped him with every sport he plays — he learned discipline. I think parents nowadays are pretty educated. They bring their kids and say, "We want him to learn to defend himself, but our goal is not for him to go professional." Good.

What I wish parents thought about: will this sport get the kid into a university with a free ride? I love wrestling and jiu-jitsu — great discipline, keeps kids off the streets. But if you're that good at grappling — wrestle. It's almost the same thing, and wrestling can give you a $400,000 scholarship, and college athletes get paid now. Why do one and not the other? Same with kickboxing versus boxing: if you're a great kickboxer, your hands are good — think about boxing. You can make $100 million instead of $100,000. Giorgio Petrosyan from Italy — I love him, he's a legend, the best kickboxer in the world — his biggest payday is a million dollars, and I think he deserves two, three hundred million. I told him, "Bro, if you'd boxed in America, you would have beaten everybody." He knows. We laugh about it, but it isn't funny.

So ask the coach: what makes a pro? What does the kid actually need? It's a simple question and I almost never get it. You know what I get? "My kid is good. My kid hits hard." Who cares about hitting hard? Ask whether your kid can take a beating and stay in the fight. If the kid can get hit and keep moving forward — watch the Rocky movies, please, before you bring him to me. That's the most important thing: get hit and keep moving forward. Don't give up.

Emma: Is it their ambition speaking rather than a clear vision?

Edmond: They get too drawn in. Look — I love my son and I love the way he plays, but I have to be real with myself. He's home-schooled, he's played over 300 international games — Benfica, Sporting, Real Madrid, Barcelona academies, training at Grêmio's academy in Brazil, in Argentina, Poland, Germany. He's traveled and played more at this age than I ever did. But I'm not going to sit here and say he's the best and he's going to make it. I ask his coach for advice. I've spoken to his coach maybe twice about training — and I'm a trainer myself. I encourage him: "God be with you, go do your job." And if he needs help mentally — what he's going through after a loss — I'm here.

Emma: Is the media romanticizing all of this? We see Ronda, we see Arman Tsarukyan, all these champions — and a parent looks at their kid and thinks, he can be the next one. It's a business, of course. But don't we need education?

Edmond: You need education. Ask the high-level trainers: what does it take? What do these athletes have in their personality that's different? Arman is a great student. Every time I train him — and every time he's here preparing for a fight, I help him — every time I leave the gym, he asks me questions. "Coach, could you look at this? Could you come back? Could you give me more? Could you give me more?" Does your kid do that? Do you teach your kid to do that? No. Then it's going to be tough to reach that level. Same with Ronda. Is Arman tough? Absolutely. Is he still asking questions at his level? He is. He's been knocked out before — and trust me, that puts a hole in your mind: what if it happens again? Everybody has that fear; you're a human being. But he defeated it — we've spoken about it. He puts in the time. I've never seen anybody work like Arman. And the way he appreciates the coach — he makes you want to work with him. That's the difference.

I've had so many parents thinking their kid will be the best in the world. The kid who's in the UFC now — I saw his dad maybe twice in ten years. I spent my own money, took him to compete across the United States, put a coach on him when I had Ronda, put him in the right rooms — cornering professional fighters so he could see it and grow. It's what your eye sees and what you start believing. Why do the great kids in Barcelona come out of La Masia — Messi, and now Lamine? Because they've seen the older ones play at that level. Once you see it, you believe it. In my gym we had Vic Darchinyan, Vanes Martirosyan, Azat Hovhannisyan, Art Hovhannisyan — top-ranked fighters. Then Ronda comes in. Then the next kid comes in. Because they see it, they believe it. And I would tell them: "Look at Vic — he doesn't have the best balance in the world, and he's a multi-division world champion. You can do it too." That gives them confidence.

Some parents take their kids to gyms that have never produced a professional fighter, and then they brag. Recently, parents told me their kid is going to Penn State wrestling. Penn State is the number one wrestling program — I'd say in the world. Olympic champions. And their kid wrestles in a low division in high school and isn't even winning that, in his final year. Do you want me to tell you there isn't a 0.0001% chance, or do you want me to be polite? When you tell the truth, you're the bad one. So I say: please, just research what kind of athletes are actually there.

I think our culture is still behind on this. That's why I've said — maybe we should do a podcast just to educate people. That's all I want to do. I don't care about the views. I care about people being real. Talk to the Latino community — they know boxing, because they've had so many champions and so much media around it. The kids know what they're getting into. And us? I'm tired of basketball. We have a hundred thousand kids playing basketball and nobody's made it. We've had great soccer players, wrestlers, Olympic champions — and we chase what we see on TV. We have to look at it real.

Emma: So we need to educate the parents. We all love our kids more than anything, but we need to be realistic — maybe your kid's gift is somewhere else entirely.

Edmond: Ask advice from the trainer. And — this is an issue too — not every coach is honest, because some treat it purely as a business. When my son played with an Armenian club — I won't name it — they don't have the licenses to compete at the highest level. Those top-league licenses go to professional clubs. But they tell the kids, "We're winning, we're state champions" — and there are multiple versions of "state championships," so parents get fooled. Meanwhile the kids in the real top pathway are the actual state champions, playing several levels higher. It's like a white belt winning a white-belt tournament and calling himself the champion. The goal is to win in the black belt division.

I wish gym owners were honest — and I wish they'd learn to let go of great talent when they're not equipped to develop it. If I can't make a champion out of a kid, I will say: leave — this other coach will make you better. I hear it all the time: a kid gets picked up by a top academy, and the old club's coaches gather the parents and try to make the kid look bad for leaving. Brother — the kid now has a chance to go professional. Let him go. You should be happy. Keeping the kid so he won't grow — what's the purpose of that? Even me — if you want to take your kid out of my gym, I'm fine. I don't want to be responsible for saying "stay" and then something happens.

Emma: Has there been a case where you had a brilliant kid — you knew the next Arman was in front of you — and the parent wanted to take him?

Edmond: I swear I would let him go. No bad feelings at all. I would smile — even if I had put 10 years into him, I would smile, 100%. Because I've been through the worst, and I will never let anybody tell me "this happened because of you." That would break me. That's why I don't tell any kid to fight. And I'm not taking kids to those tournaments where everybody wins a medal. Prove yourself in the gym. Work hard. Become a disciplined athlete, and the medals will come. Try to win a medal in my gym first — my gym is harder. Trust me.

Emma: There's a parent watching this episode right now who thinks their kid is the best — that their kid could be the next Arman. What should they do?

Edmond: I get a lot of that from Armenia — phone calls at night. "My kid is so good, he's 6-and-0." I haven't seen the kid, but I believe he's good. I say: email me the fights, let me see what I can do, and I'll give him an opportunity, 100%. Some write, "We're better than the kid you trained from a young age." Okay — good for you. What do I do with that?

Find a coach with real connections — maybe a coach who talks to me, asks my advice, so I can vouch for him. I had a coach come from Ukraine to work under me, travel with my fighters; now he has his own gym in France and took a fighter all the way to a world title fight. He was open to learning — I took him to Freddie Roach's gym, he studied, he got better. So research which gyms have real pipelines.

And build slowly. Don't rush into the UFC — get 10, 15 fights. There's the Contender Series if you're young. And think about the business side: what kind of fighters does the UFC want? What does boxing want? We're Armenian — our market is not that big. A Latino fighter fights for a world title with 300 million views behind him. So we have to be different. We have to get their attention — be like Arman, do the media, more media. That's step one. Step two: beat them more convincingly than anybody has. Vic Darchinyan is the prime example. Everybody they put in front of him, he said yes — "I'm going to knock you out" — and he knocked them out. Was he different? Yes. Did he get the attention? Yes. You have to be different.

And understand: it's a long road. You're not getting there in one year — not even two. In boxing, you need ten years of professional fighting to be known. In the UFC, in two or three years you can break out — one jumping kick, one knee knockout, and the whole world talks about it. Their media machine makes you a star; that's why the pay is lower — "we make you a star, make your money elsewhere." But you need the base — Khabib had that Sambo and wrestling foundation. You need the years. So when you think about a kid going into boxing — it's more serious. It's more work.

Emma: We started with Ronda, and I want to end with Ronda. If she were sitting in my place right now, and she could ask you one question — something she has never asked you directly — what do you think it would be?

Edmond: Oh man, that's smart. I think she would ask a question that would touch me emotionally. She would say: "Were you really — and are you still — proud of me? Were you happy for me?" And I would hug her and say: yes, I was. I think that's what she would ask, because everything else, we did together. But she would want to make sure. I know how she is. She would say, "Even the last fight — I called you. You weren't in my corner, but we said we're going to do this together and finish it together. Are you still proud of me?" And the answer would be yes. And I would hug her. That's it.

Emma: Thank you very much.

Edmond: Thank you.

Watch the full conversation on the INSIGHT YouTube channel. New episodes every Saturday, 1pm PT.

https://youtu.be/HscFDRss2pM?si=VCVB2cjcbatwOmi4