The Final Bell for the Immortal One

A text message popped up on my phone this morning. Just a few words: “Did you hear about Hulk Hogan?” But it hit me like a bodyslam.

You hope it’s just another internet hoax, another cruel joke. But the news alerts trickled in, and reality set in. The Immortal Hulk Hogan was gone.

And just like that, I wasn’t a grown man sitting at a desk. I was a kid again, sitting cross-legged, chin in hands, eyes glued to the TV as that unmistakable screeching guitar riff of Real American filled the room.

That music didn’t just mean a match was about to start. It meant everything else stopped. Hulk Hogan was coming to the ring.

For a kid growing up in the 80s and early 90s, Hogan wasn’t just a pro wrestler. He was a real-life superhero. Captain America in yellow boots. He didn’t just fight the bad guys. He represented good. The stories were larger than life, but simple enough: Right vs. Wrong. Hulk Hogan vs. Evil.

Whether it was The Iron Sheik or Andre the Giant, Hogan was always outmatched until he wasn’t. My favorite moment, and maybe yours too, was him “Hulking up.” You know the drill. Hogan’s getting pounded. The end seems near. But then he starts shaking. The punches don’t hurt him anymore. The finger points. The crowd erupts. Three punches. The big boot. And then… the leg drop. One. Two. Three.

It never got old.

And then came Bash at the Beach 1996.

Scott Hall and Kevin Nash were tearing through WCW, and their mysterious “third man” hadn’t shown up. The match was a mess. Chaos. But then that music hit. Hulk Hogan was here to save the day.

Except he didn’t.

He marched to the ring, tore off his shirt, and then dropped the leg on Randy Savage. The hero had become the villain.

I remember the stunned silence. Fans throwing trash into the ring. It wasn’t just a heel turn. It was the death of a childhood icon, live on pay-per-view. And yet, it was one of the most brilliant and daring moments in wrestling history. Hollywood Hogan. The New World Order. Wrestling was never the same again.

Of course, as I got older, it became harder to separate Hulk Hogan the character from Terry Bollea the man. There were things said, things done, that were ugly, disappointing, and indefensible. Reconciling those off-screen realities with the childhood memories was a struggle for many.

But those memories are still there.

They live in the excitement of the entrance music. In the fist pumps and finger points. In the cheers from millions of kids who truly believed that goodness could prevail if we just said our prayers and took our vitamins.

Hulk Hogan may be gone, but his legacy is complicated, colossal, and impossible to ignore. For a generation, he was professional wrestling. He was the reason many of us fell in love with the spectacle in the first place.

Comment Below: What are some of your favorite memories of Hulk Hogan.