Thanksgiving Turkey: Hulk Hogan
Wrestling's Most Famous Fabulist is the Worst. So Why Can't I Quit Him?
There’s no wrestler I feel worse about loving than Hulk Hogan.
Yes, that Hulk Hogan. The liar. The racist. The self-serving scumbag.
I was asked last week why I sometimes feature him here rather than attempt to write him out of the story of our sport. And I concede there are a million reasons to disown him, to push him from my life—most prominently what The Guardian called his “N-word rant.”
If you don’t recall the incident, in 2006 Hogan was recorded having sex with the wife of a radio shockjock whose government name is Todd Allen Clem, somehow even more ridiculous than his nom de plume: “Bubba the Love Sponge.”
That was embarrassing enough, especially when a snippet of the video ended up on the infamous tabloid website Gawker six years later. The post, viewed millions and millions of times, was called "Even for a Minute, Watching Hulk Hogan Have Sex in a Canopy Bed Is Not Safe for Work but Watch It Anyway."
Hogan, a famous fabulist who had once referred to his penis as the “Loch Ness monster” was once again revealed to be a liar. He proceeded to explain, in a court of law, that there was a distinction between Hulk Hogan’s penis and the penis of the actor who played him—Terry Bollea. It would have been sad if it wasn’t so funny.
Things, as they tend to do, went from bad to worse for the big wrestler. In the ensuing lawsuit, an additional tape was leaked from sealed legal documents. This was the aftermath of Hogan’s romantic rendezvous, where he complained about his daughter dating a black man and explained that, while he liked nice people of all stripes, “I guess we’re all a little racist.”
More shocking than the content was the casual manner in which it was seemingly delivered. Sure, many of us say things privately we wouldn’t say out loud to the world. But this was a man who was way too comfortable using explicitly racist language.
“I mean, I’d rather if she was going to fuck some n**ger, I’d rather have her marry an 8-foot-tall n**ger worth a hundred million dollars,” Hogan continued. “Like a basketball player!”
Hogan, who worked closely with black stars from Mr. T to Tiny Lister to Dennis Rodman throughout his career, was suddenly at the center of worldwide discourse. He had represented the American dream as wrestling’s ultimate hero, someone people from all races and walks of life had looked up to. To hear him reject so many of his countrymen, many of whom loved him from childhood, was hard.
He was subsequently fired from WWE. And he deserved it.
An ugly, absurd trial followed including the memorable testimony of Gawker editor A.J. Daulerio, a famed scumbag, who revealed there were indeed some circumstances in which he wouldn’t publish a celebrity sex tape:
“If they were a child.”
“A child under what age?” Hogan’s attorney asked.
Daulerio responded: “Four.”
Gawker soon filed for bankruptcy and the wrestler, awarded $140 million by a jury of his peers, eventually settled his case for $31 million. The dustup from start to finish was so unbelievable you’d reject it absolutely if presented with the story as a work of fiction.
Alas, it was all too real. Hogan, it seemed, was done, cooked, dead to the wrestling world.
And, look, I understand a certain amount of what people call “privilege” underscores the forgiveness fans have found in their hearts. Some white fans especially can overlook Hogan’s failures and faults because they weren’t the party harmed. It’s easier to forgive, to believe his many apologies and recriminations, to find yourself feeling sorry for the invasion of his privacy, when you weren’t the target of an awful diatribe.
I have no excuse for welcoming Hogan back into my wrestling life. He wasn’t my childhood favorite. As a kid, I intuitively rejected his more cartoonish version of the sport, something we called “Yankee wrestling.” As a young hardcore fan, I also spent plenty of time complaining about his influence, his selfishness and his bad matches.
It’s only later that I came to appreciate his minimalist genius, his gift for creating memorable moments, his unshakable connection with audiences around the world. Hulk Hogan was the most popular wrestler of his era because he was good.
Damn good.
Here, for example, is the finish of a match between Hogan and Andre the Giant from December 9, 1982. The crowd was absolutely electric for both and the two deliver in a big way.
Blood! A bodyslam! Chaos!
You sometimes see lists of the most popular foreign wrestlers in the history of puroresu. Hogan and Andre are often forgotten, despite the fact no one has been bigger, both literally and metaphorically.
So, yes, this site will feature the matches of Hulk Hogan when discussing the history of our great sport. I understand completely if some readers no longer want to cheer him on. He’s done things that people consider unforgivable. Even before we knew there was hate in his heart, he was the poster boy for the kind of destructive backstage politicking that make this a difficult industry to navigate for performers.
But you can’t tell the story of wrestling without him.
Jonathan Snowden is a long-time combat sports journalist. His books include Total MMA, Shooters and Shamrock: The World’s Most Dangerous Man. His work has appeared in USA Today, Bleacher Report, Fox Sports and The Ringer. Subscribe to this newsletter to keep up with his latest work.
The first wrestling match that I ever saw was Hogan winning the belt from The Iron Sheik at MSG. He came out to Eye of the Tiger, the crowd lost its mind, and I was hooked from that point forward. As he aged and became more of a jackass (or, said differently, a side of him that always existed was no longer hidden), my favoritism of him also declined. Still, you never forget your first...
From cheering for Hogan’s various nemeses in the 80’s to trashing him on the early IWC for all the foolishness in WCW, it was difficult for me to come to the realization that yes, Hogan really was a great worker, especially from a psychology perspective.