Last night, right before bed, I heard the news—Hulk Hogan has passed away at 71, reportedly from a heart attack. There’s an old superstition that celebrity deaths come in threes, and this week sure feels like proof. First, Malcolm-Jamal Warner—just about my age, someone I watched grow up on screen. Then Ozzy Osbourne, who I wrote about in a previous post. And now, the Hulkster. These are more than headlines. These are names etched into the fabric of our lives.
When I was younger, a wise old gentleman told me, “Never put anyone on a pedestal—it just gives them farther to fall.” I didn’t fully get that until adulthood. Over time, people I once looked up to—athletes, actors, icons—showed sides of themselves that clashed with my values or just plain disappointed me. So I stopped idolizing. But childhood doesn’t care about wisdom or perspective. And like millions of other kids across the U.S., I idolized Hulk Hogan. The colors, the muscle, the mustache. The guy who got beaten down, hulked up, and came roaring back to deliver justice in spandex.
Hulk Hogan was probably the first wrestler to ever grace the cover of Sports Illustrated back in the '80s, and I held on to that issue for years. Whether he was in the ring or in a cameo somewhere on the internet, his presence was always felt. Sure, there were controversies. People had their opinions about who he was outside the ring—and I get that. But I can’t deny the entertainment, the energy, the feeling of being part of something bigger that he gave us. As a kid, there was something comforting about knowing Hulk Hogan was out there, fighting the bad guys, pointing that iconic finger of his.
There was always this hope in the back of every wrestling fan’s mind that he’d pop up again in the WWE—maybe just to smack a heel around and remind us that good guys still win. But that won’t happen now. And that weird feeling in my chest this morning? That’s not just grief for a person. It’s grief for an era. For the younger version of me who needed heroes in Technicolor. For a simpler time when the battle lines were clear, the crowd always cheered, and our heroes always got back up.