So there I was, minding my own business. I paid a lot of money and drove 13 hours to be in Los Angeles for the biggest wrestling show of the year, WrestleMania. I was thrilled to be there, having a great time and enjoying the show, when all of a sudden Hulk Hogan showed up!
TODAY’S ISSUE: Hogan’s Nostalgia Pops (I hope it’s nostalgia!)
OK, I’ll admit it was a perfect setup for the Hulkster’s big hero entrance. Crowd favorite Eugene was visiting with us in the Staples Center, regaling us with tales of midgets, when the evil Arab-American duo of Hassan and Davairi interrupted. They verbally abused Eugene and then proceeded to kick the crap out of him. When they applied the Camel Clutch, it was all too much for Mr. America to take.
The segment was so obviously designed as a Hogan love fest that the live crowd was chanting his name long before his music hit. As I mentioned in my Post WrestleMania column, the roof blew off the arena when Hogan arrived to save the day. That was cool with me, even though I couldn’t fathom why Hogan was dressed for combat when he was due to be recognized an hour later in the Hall of Fame segment. I guess I can let that one slide…
He hit these strapping young athletes with all his signature nonsense “offense” and quickly graced us with his famous poses. He did all the usual muscle flexing we’ve all seen for about 30 years, and the crowd showed their respect. Then he posed some more, and the crowd ate it up. Next, Hogan posed. He posed, and posed and posed. He placed his hands up to his ear in order to determine which area of the crowd had earned the right to look directly at him while he posed. Hogan posed and posed and posed and posed.
Then, when he was almost out of the arena, he stopped on the entrance ramp for a little more. As long as I live, I will never be able to forget Hogan flexing his stupid muscles, because that image is permanently etched in my grey matter.
The thing that gets me is that no matter what damage that man has done to the business, no matter who he refused to put over properly, from Bret Hart in 1993 to Sting at Starrcade 97, EVERYBODY in the Staples Center was paying homage to Hogan like he’s a true icon in pro wrestling, and I submit that he is not.
The legendary 16-time world champ Ric Flair made it his DUTY to make his opponents look good throughout his career. Hulk Hogan made it his DUTY to make his opponents seem like they were below him. Mick Foley has used his fame to make others look stronger, including the Rock, HHH, and Randy Orton. Hogan has used his fame to try to make a new star too. Her name is Brooke Hogan.
Why, people? Why are you so excited to see a guy who didn’t have many wrestling skills when he was in his prime 20 years ago? Of course I realize he’s loaded with charisma, and he’s one of the most famous pro wrestlers ever. But quite simply, he’s bad for the business.
At WrestleMania IX, WWF champion Bret Hart defended against the huge evil sumo wrestler Yokozuna. Bret managed to lock the behemoth in his Sharpshooter submission leglock, but lost the title when Yoko’s manager Mr. Fuji tossed the dreaded salt into Bret’s eyes and Yoko rolled up the champ for the easy pinfall. Even after appearing in a tag title match earlier in the card, Your Hero Hulk Hogan came out to protect Bret, but Mr. Fuji made an impromptu challenge to Hogan on behalf of Yokozuna, for a title shot then and there. In a “match” that lasted less than 30 seconds (literally), Hogan helped himself to another championship.
Hart needed to go over strong in that match or to come back victorious and vindicate himself shortly thereafter. The original plan was for Hogan to truly put Bret over for the WWF title at SummerSlam later in the year. At least that was the plan until Hogan’s most famous tag team partner, his ego, reared its ugly head. Hogan could have made Bret Hart, but chose not to. He could have given the business another dominant superstar if he wanted, but Hogan chose to enhance his own legend instead. What a guy.
In 1996, WCW’s original nWo concept changed the face of professional wrestling. However, it soon became yet another platform for Hogan to “prove” his dominance and win 300 more world titles. That was clearly not the best way to write the nWo story.
I mentioned Starrcade 97 earlier. It was Hogan’s unwillingness to allow Sting’s title victory to take place as planned that many consider the beginning of the end for WCW. There may not have ever been a better build up to a world championship match. From Sting’s metamorphosis into the “Crow”, to his year of self-imposed silence, to his one-man war waged against the nWo while wielding his signature black ball bat, the story of Sting vs. Hogan was brilliantly woven. It was one of the most anticipated climaxes in wrestling storytelling, but Hogan refused to let it be told.
He got into referee Nick Patrick’s ear before the match and convinced the official that rather than the planned “fast count” intended to lead to (ironically) Bret Hart’s involvement as the match’s new referee, Patrick should count at a normal tempo instead. Since Sting followed the original “script” and did not kick out, it appeared that Hogan had won cleanly. Therefore, when Bret came out to dispute the fast count and restart the match, it seemed Bret saw something the rest of us didn’t see. This sent the storylines into disarray. Sting should have emerged the heroic champion that night, but instead, controversy ensued. Sting never did achieve the exclamation point victory that would have made his whole transformation and exile meaningful.
I have to believe all the Hogan fans in the world don’t know these famous tales, or the dozens of other examples of how Hogan loves himself, not the pro wrestling industry. Terry Bollea is immature, egotistical, deluded about his skills and value, and extremely selfish. Why on Earth do so many fans still love him? It must be nostalgia, but as Dan Hicks would say, “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?” I wonder how many nostalgia pops Hogan can get. He’s returned to the big leagues time and time again, and each one of his appearances stinks of desperation, greed, and arrogance. Just how nostalgic for this guy can one get?
Last Sunday at Backlash, Hogan teamed with Shawn Michaels in his latest comeback to form the aptly named Bret- Screwers (credit goes to Gordi in the Rasslin Roundtable) or the Balding Egomaniacs (as named by Scott Keith in his Raw Rant) to face the Arab-American Connection. I’ll bet you can guess what happened. Hogan scored the pinfall to defeat the young team of Hassan and Daivari, although the Arabs could have used a victory to ascend to the next level and become major players for the company by beating the two legends.
Of course, that would have denied the world another 8-minute Hogan pose-fest. Good thing he did what was right for the business Sunday night. As a fan I’m so proud that Hogan used his star power to give something back to the industry that made him a superstar and a wealthy man. Thanks, Terry.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled reality.
p.s. – If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?
