I don't even know where to start. Hulk Hogan is dead . I read it, reread it. I looked at the photo. The headline. I hoped it was fake news, another hoax like the dozens you see. But this time it was real. My heart really stopped. His, and a little, mine too.
Because for those who grew up in the '80s and '90s, Hulk Hogan wasn't just a wrestler. He was an idea, a role model, a certainty. He was the one on TV when the world still seemed simple, divided between good and bad. And he, of course, was always on the right side.
When you thought that tearing off your shirt was enough to make you feel invincible
I was seven years old when I saw Hogan for the first time. He walked in with that epic theme song, "Real American." The yellow bandana. The trucker mustache. The arms raised to the sky. The gentle giant look. My dad watched the news, I watched wrestling. And for me, he was the only hero.
I tore my shirts like him. I did poses in the mirror. And when someone made fun of me at school, I thought, "What would Hulk Hogan do?" The answer: stand up, scream, and win.
Did you know he trained six days a week… even at 60 years old?
Something few people know: even in his later years, Hogan worked out regularly. Despite dozens of surgeries—back, knees, hips, neck—he never stopped going to the gym. One day he said, "If I can't lift weights, it's like I'm no longer myself."
That man, who at 60 had more muscles than I did at 20, had a steel rod inserted into his spine so he could still walk. He literally held himself up with bolts. But he continued to sign autographs. Smiling. Shaking hands with his enormous gorilla fingers.
Between glory, falls and redemption
Of course, he wasn't a saint. The scandals, the stolen video, the racist comments. I thought, "No, not you." But maybe it was inevitable. When a legend falls, it makes waves. But Hogan apologized. He retired for a while. He came back, head down but with his heart on his sleeve. And WWE forgave him. I did too. After all, no hero is perfect. But few come back after being truly knocked down.
Why We're Really Crying Hulk Hogan Today
Because he wasn't just a wrestler. He was a refuge. An inspiration. A symbolic father to those who didn't have one. He was the man who made us believe that with enough courage, muscle (and maybe a powerful theme song), you could change the ending of your story.
And now that he's gone, I wonder one thing: who will defend us now?
Who will remind us that “say your prayers, eat your vitamins, and believe in yourself” was more than a slogan?
One last curiosity, brother: do you know where that “brother” came from?
Hogan was telling everyone: “Whatcha gonna do, brother?”
But few know that that "brother" stemmed from a true obsession with brotherhood. Backstage at WWE, he called everyone that. Always. Even those who couldn't stand him. It was his way of creating the illusion of family in an often fake world. And that's also how he made us feel. Brothers. Part of something. Of Hulkamania.
And now? Now all we have left is a thank you.
Thanks, Hulk.
For the fights. The screams. The laughter.
For being our hunky, ridiculous, over-the-top, and absolutely perfect hero in his all-American way of saving the world…..
I don't understand why so many are so saddened by Hulk Hogan's death. After all, he was just a wrestler, but it's true that he inspired many people. But life goes on, and there are other heroes.