I was coming out of the comic shop in Bettendorf this morning when I saw a YouTube notification for John Rocha’s channel. It said “Hulk Hogan is Dead.” I was shocked and immediately started looking though my phone to see what this meant. It was a strange way of putting it so I thought maybe it was that he was metaphorically dead. But I found other articles about the Hulkster’s death from cardiac arrest in a hospital in Florida.

I found myself feeling very strange. I have not felt like this in a long time. When I was young, Hulk Hogan was one of my favorite wrestlers. I would have been a Hulkamaniac for sure. The years in the 1980s helped cement pro wrestling as one of my favorite things to do.

I went to the closed circuit broadcast in Davenport at the Palmer Auditorium for Wrestlemania 3 when Hogan wrestled Andre the Giant. I was so into this match and I was emotionally invested.

However, then I grew up. I started seeing Hogan as not just a character, but a performer who was an asshole. He was racist. He was a politician backstage, keeping others down. Someone who went into the WCW and helped bring that organization down.

I found myself disgusted with Hogan. When he came to RAW on Netflix in LA earlier this year and the crowd booed him out of the building because of his choices that he had made. Some blamed his support of Donald Trump, who he spoke for at the Republican National Convention, for the reaction of the liberal LA crowd, but I think that is too easy of an excuse. I do think the issues from his racist comments to his sex tape to other choices he made is what led to the booing.

Either way, I felt sad and confused about my thoughts of Hulk Hogan.

RIP Terry Bollea.