Finding the man in the myth of Hulk Hogan

Terry Bollea had a part to play. He played it so well that despite his fame and fortune, relatively few people knew his real name. When Bollea died last Thursday, the headlines — and there were so many headlines — went with his moniker. Not many people, it seemed, knew of Terry Bollea. But nearly everyone knew of Hulk Hogan. Hogan was the pro wrestler who caught fire in the early 1980s, and then became something of a national phenomenon for most of the decade. It was Hogan who (along with Mr. T) hosted Saturday Night Live in the 1980s. It was Hogan who had a Saturday morning cartoon. And it was Hogan who body slammed Andre the Giant in 1987 at the Pontiac Silverdome in front of a sold out crowd. Pro wrestling, of course, is an illusion. It's pageantry. It's fiction. So was Hulk Hogan. Hogan was in many ways a comic book superhero, a chemically enhanced cartoon character come to life. Bollea put everything he had into that character, and children and fans were more than happy to put aside whatever suspicions they had and cheer as loudly as they could. "Well, let me tell you something, Brother," the character would scream into a microphone, often held by announcer Gene Okerlund, before promising pain and justice to whatever opponent was in his way. People ate it up. I can speak from personal experience. At about 10 years old, I caught the pro wrestling bug, and Hogan was my favorite performer. Pro wrestling was choreographed and pre-determined. Even at that age, I knew that. But it was so easy to suspend my disbelief when the Hulkster came out. He had so much energy, so much charisma, so much likability. In 1991, I saw him and Ric Flair — another larger-than-life persona — wrestle at the Richfield Coliseum. Hogan won by countout. This enormous, muscled up man in yellow trunks stood in the center of the ring, cupping his ear, soaking up the cheers and posing. I screamed until I was hoarse. Even today, knowing what I do about pro wrestling and Bollea, it remains a fond memory of my youth. But thinking about it now, I feel there's a distinction that needs to be made. Terry Bollea was real. Hulk Hogan was a creation. And it was a tremendous creation. For more than 40 years, the Hulk Hogan character was able to gain attention. He could be a good guy waving an American Flag. He could be a bad guy, dressed in all black and sporting sunglasses. Hogan endured through several booms and slow periods in professional wrestling. Ask a person on the street, today, to name a pro wrestler. Good chance they say Hulk Hogan. But time and reality tainted Bollea, his alter ego, and his status in the eyes of his once adoring fans. While Hulk Hogan was telling kids to train, say your prayers, eat your vitamins and not take shortcuts, Bollea was taking steroids to maintain his mammoth physique. Hogan preached real American values. Bollea was once caught on tape sleeping with a friend's wife and using racial slurs. Some of the things Bollea did were indefensible. And yet, I maintain a certain amount of sympathy for him. Hulk Hogan may have been a fictional character, but Bollea played that character so well that to most, he became the character. Everyone knows Sylvester Stallone was an actor playing Rocky, or Rambo. But few ever say "Hulk Hogan, as played by Terry Bollea." Even when Bollea acted in (usually ill-conceived) films, it was usually as Hulk Hogan. When Bollea left the house, went to dinner, went anywhere, he was — to the world — Hulk Hogan, the biggest pro wrestling star this country has ever seen. Maybe Bollea wanted it that way. But you have to wonder if the person ever got lost in a persona, one that was never real. There was the myth, and there was the man. Now, the man is gone. And the myth, the part he played won't go to anyone else. Terry Bollea was the only one who could play it. Zach Baker is the sports editor for The (Findlay) Courier.