SCRIPTS!: Narratives of Disaster - Hulk Hogan, and the Wrath of the Heartbreak Kid

Time to get back on the horse more formally, no more submerged and stealthy Doc. This is where I start knocking down trees and doing more here, again. So here's the script as it stands for the forthcoming episode of Narratives of Disaster, about the time Hulk Hogan did his Hulk Hogan Thing a little too hard, to a much better in-ring wrestler than he could ever hope to be. More stuff coming tomorrow, stay tuned!

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Narratives of Disaster: Hulk Hogan, and the Wrath of the Heartbreak Kid

Ask any wrestling fan who their favorite wrestler is. The more time goes on, the less likely people are to say the name “Hulk Hogan.” This is great to me, because even before I knew what a complete asshole he was, the Hulkster did little for me. I will not detract from the man’s ability to connect with a live audience, because like, listen to this cheering. But as a wrestler, the thing about him that immediately stood out was that he looked fake. Because for as big and muscular as he was, even to my young eyes, he didn’t move well. He looked clumsy. He also really didn’t do anything that was cool on its own, he just hyped up his punches and kicks to a legendary degree, and that did in fact work. Just not for me, not ever.  Maybe it’s because I’m Canadian and I grew up with a different idea of what a great pro wrestler looks like. 

[OWEN. BRET.]

This was before all that other shit came to light. Like, all that other shit.

Shawn Michaels, the Heartbreak Kid, on the other hand, is one you’re still probably likely to hear. Because while the man has had a number of flaws, many of which he’s expressed regret and has worked to rise above, what’s undeniable is that Shawn Michaels is a great wrestler, an individual that was more than worthy to have the nickname “The Showstopper.” Because the man did shit like this in the ring.

[Shawn kicks Shelton right in the grill after his top rope springboard]

I will not deny the athleticism of Shelton Benjamin is also in play here, because he too is an extremely talented, skilled and experienced wrestler. But this is a Shawn Spot. This is something Shawn Michaels blocked out, and both it and Shelton lived or died on his ability to connect the flat of his foot to the face of another large, strong and agile human being flying at him, and make it only look like it killed him. This worked kick, this Superkick as it’s called, Sweet Chin Music by Michael’s naming, is a thing that embodies the Shawn Michaels difference. In one motion, this is who Shawn Michaels is when he’s in the ring. This is what he does. And so is all this.

It would only be natural that the Monolith of Money, Talent and Bad Decision Making that is the WWE would decide to put both of these superstars in a supermatch, with them both concurrently in the company. And HBK and Hogan were often in the WWF/E together, it’s just that, back when they were both much younger men, Hogan probably saw Shawn as some young nobody talent from nowhere, who wasn’t big enough to use his career as a lever. You know, to further jack his own career up. Which is what the Hulkster did, constantly. 

King Kong Bundy deserved better, and I think if “Earthquake” John Tenta legit squished Hogan, it’d be the one thing he would have done to make me like him more. Seriously, Earthquake ruled.

But no, this story does not take place in the late 80s. It does not take place in the early 90s. It takes place in

[TWO THOUSAND AND FIVE

Somewhere, at Titan Sports]

So consider the fact how long Hogan was in this whole “wrestling” thing. Shawn Michaels, having progressed from one half of the Rockers, to a singles attraction and midcard champion, to a wide-awake nightmare that frankly needed to get away from wrestling, into a man that had found both Jesus and a better Self to work with, was back in the WWE. He wrestled like a man that very genuinely wanted to make up for lost time, and that even if his newfound faith led his storylines down some questionable paths, he had a tendency to leave everything in the ring on nights where he was there to work. The thing about it is, it was this tendency to go head down into this work and get both creative and productive with his fellow workers, that made it seem like he as an individual less in search of a redemption arc, but rather someone who knew he was always good, and had put in good, memorable work, but unless he turned over a leaf, he’d most likely turn into one of those wrestlers where you find yourself saying “oh yeah, he’s great, but..” when bringing him up. Damage was done by him, but many people who do damage also don’t try to build elsewhere, as compensation for past wrongs.

Meanwhile, during all this, HULK HOGAN WAS STILL JUST THERE. STILL JUST EPHEMERALLY A PART OF WRESTLING, YET ALSO ACTIVELY FEEDING OFF IT. A human being fell and stood and made changes in his life to be better. And when he was there to get better, so was the Hulkster, same as he ever was: ready to Main Event.

[THE 80s AND 90s

Functionally Everywhere, because Wrestling is Global and Eternal]

I’m going to be blunt: I don’t like Hulk Hogan even slightly. I had this opinion even before the racist shit came to light, and that happening actually made me burst into uncontrollable laughter. It wasn’t because I thought his dumb bullshit was funny, it was the manic laughter of someone finally being validated by a greater scale of reality, that yes, this dude who you had heard the stories about and who you had tuned your instincts to, this fake hero whose fakeness became more cardboard and shitty with every passing year, really was just as petty and godawful as you always thought. Hulkamania was finally destroyed for all but the most grotesque and pathetic torch carriers and hatemongers. The last statue of the Ozymandias of Motherfuckers has crumbled.

But before that, Hulk Hogan was the hottest property in all of professional wrestling. This was brought into being by Hogan himself being a wildly charismatic individual with the sort of physical frame and stature you could build the Platonic Ideal of the Charles Atlas Hero of the Beach. And yeah, he sure did that. The reasons why this guy would catch fire, especially in his heyday for the mid-80s to the early 90s- an era that is in fact known as The Hulkamania Era, no shit, that’s the name for that epoch of wrestling history -are self apparent: look at this dude. Look at this huge, fightin’, capital D Dude. Out of context, try to picture you, being a Wrestling Promoter, who has actually never heard of any Hulk Hogans (nor any Eddie Boulders, or Stirling Goldens, or Super Destroyers- seriously, even before ‘Hulk Hogan’ this dude had some names). I want you to look at that man and tell me you don’t want to put a belt on him. You can’t, you’re a liar, because I’m doing this exercise too and I can’t say I wouldn’t make him a champ, and well, I called him the Ozymandias of Motherfuckers.

The main problem with Hulk Hogan, at least to fans on the outside looking in, is that the Era of Hulkamania never seemed to want to end. This is because Hogan didn’t want it to end, and Hogan is the resourceful sort of person that knows how to get what he needs. At all cost. Especially the cost of others, his apparent favorite sort of cost. This is why the Hulkster jumped ship from the WWF to go film Thunder in Paradise with Chris Lemmon. Which is a hell sentence I just said, please respect yourself and don’t watch Thunder in Paradise. You’ll think it’s a good-bad watch waiting to happen, and it’s just not. It’s equal parts bore and frustration. The Boat actually does look cool, and then you see it do stuff, and it stops being cool.

It’s a really good thing that Hogan went to WCW then, because the world would not humor Hulkster’s Crime Solving Boat Family Adventure Series. It was the first major shot in the arm that floundering company had, and one of the first big victories for future WCW boss, Eric Bischoff. Here’s the problem part of that: the contract Hogan signed for WCW had a clause in it, which allowed Hogan creative control over his character, same deal with the other big gets WCW had brought in to form the nWo, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall, The Outsiders. This meant that Hogan didn’t have to ever lose if he didn’t want to. 

So he just didn’t.

Hogan also liked to get people jobs at WCW. He did this so he could get wins back. The most infamous of this is with the Ultimate Warrior, an individual who existed at a crossroads of incoherent and unpleasant, who functionally defined the shape of what a bad worker looked like during the Hulkamania era: unhinged, uncaring, unskilled, unathletic. And so WCW gave this individual a budget to work with. This led to television that could be described simply as “legendarily bad.” Some of this legendary bad includes a backstage sketch that was supposed to portray Hulk Hogan as losing his mind because he’s seeing Warrior in the mirror, but instead backfired, because literally everyone, the audience, Tony Schiavone, Bobby Heenan, literally everyone except Eric Bischoff can see Warrior there. The one person that’s insane in this sketch is Eric Bischoff. He also liked to do this disappearing act, where he farted knockout anthrax through pipes he must have magicked into the ring via Destrucity, which was apparently selective in who it knocked out based on your placement on the card. This is really funny, except for the part where nobody told Davey Boy Smith the ring was gimmicked with a trap door for Warrior’s personal use, so he broke his back on it. He was fired by WCW in the hospital, because the business end of professional wrestling at a corporate level is a goddamned hellmouth of inhumanity.

By the way, Hogan got his win back. The match sucked on a scale that is actually embarrassing, because you have to consider: two grown men did this. 

Hogan rode out WCW, like a tick on a dying dromedary. For a time, he was away from pro wrestling, probably again trying to launch into stardom beyond the ring. WWE owner Vince McMahon is an individual who made it clear that Hogan was dead to him after jumping to WCW. Except the thing about Vince McMahon is that the prospect of making a lot of money is functional necromancy, and a Hulkamania Revival was too much to resist. So Vince and Hulk went back into business together. So we find ourselves back in the story’s present of 

[2005

The (Terribly Named by WWE) Ruthless Aggression Era]

Booking wrestling is, at the very most basic and simple level, a profession that consists of taking two human performers and identifying the best way to bang them into each other, like action figures. This is simplifying to a ridiculous degree, yes, especially considering these aren’t actually toys, but human beings in a dangerous form of entertainment. The reason instead is consider: in all of your favorite series of toys, you now have two of the most exciting figures of all, so you’ve got to do something with them that’s not ordinary. This is the concept of the Dream Match, matchups where you can actually sell a show on the back of, just based on “wow, I never thought I’d see that”.

So this wasn’t meant to be just one match between “the Immortal” Hulk Hogan and “the Showstopper” Shawn Michaels. It was supposedly meant to be a series of matches, over which the two legends would trade wins. YEAH STOP RIGHT THERE. Right there. There’s the break point for Hogan: ‘trade.’ Hogan likes to get his wins back, especially when he likes to think he gave folks ‘the rub’ by having people he wouldn’t normally deign to interact with occasionally in matches with him. Like Rey Misterio, who he beat the fuck out of at the end of WCW. But if given his druthers, Hogan is the sort to not lose ever if he doesn’t have to. So citing injury issues of a bad leg, what would become of Hogan versus Michaels, Immortal vs Showstopper, is instead, it would be one match at Summerslam, where Hogan won.

Full disclosure: Shawn Michaels was an individual known for his backstage politicking and carnage, he’s the man who Lost His Smile and made Vader cry. He’s the sort of individual whose career was marked by spite at having to do jobs and storylines he didn’t want to, making that spite real, and felt. It’s this that’s part of the reason why I still hold my reins on my HBK enthusiasm. But the thing is, it dawned on me on the podcast I really need to get back to doing, that I actually discovered myself angrily ranting in favor of Vince Russo, a man who is one of the most distasteful and crash-garbage wrestling bookers of all time, because at the exact moment in WCW where Russo might have had a handle on pulling the booking situation up, and after delivering an astonishing and passionate promo where he aired his frustrations with Hulk Hogan and let that inform his performance-

-Hulk Hogan decided that rant was slanderous and sued WCW.

So it’s in my measured opinion that in matters of Hulk Hogan versus literally almost any human being on the planet, you should remember the Iron Sheik’s advice:

[FUCK THE FUCKING HULK HOGAN, PIECE OF SHIT]

So now we find ourselves picturing what it was like to inhabit the wrestling boots of The Showstopper, The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels. This was a man who decided that part of the way back to a better him was pour himself into his work, his art, a sport and performance form that damages the body and often leads to a severely shortened life. And now, he was colliding with the immovable object of self interest, a man who didn’t even feel the need to try to disguise his own slippery nature, because fuck you, who are you, no don’t answer, you’re nobody, and I’m Hulk Hogan.

What would you do?

[Summerslam - August 21, 2005

The MCI Center, Washington DC]

People that aren’t deep into wrestling fandom often ask how much matches are planned by the wrestlers beforehand. This actually is a really good question, because it has an interesting answer: it depends on the wrestlers and how they like to perform. Wrestlers get told who’s winning, how they’re going to win, and any circumstances during the match that should occur for the sake of storyline. The interesting part is, it’s not generally said one style’s better than the others, as long as at least someone has a plan and the ability to execute it. Some wrestlers are highly improvisational, and use their in-ring experience to dictate what should happen and when. This is called “calling it in the ring” and it’s the sort of thing you’d see out of a Ric Flair, or a Stan Hansen. There’s also folks who prefer to plan meticulously and rehearse complex spots, both so as to create more elaborate spots, as they’re called, and also to get a feel for how their fellow workers move and their sense of positioning. Randy Savage was a particular noteworthy wrestler that did this, because he was capital M Meticulous. Shawn Michaels is similar, because you tend to notice with his matches that folks who wouldn’t normally good, suddenly get better because they’re working with Shawn Michaels, or a similar hand. 

But here’s the really bonkers about this: this is the last position during which the head office can exert direct control over their workers. It’s the entrance to the ramp, from the backstage area, and it’s called the Gorilla Position, after the great Gorilla Monsoon, who in addition to being an extremely old school wrestler and a commentator with character if not a lot of eloquence, also was very big on ensuring that people knew exactly what they were doing before they go out in front of a live audience, and also, to have some timing to their entrance. This is the last place a wrestler will take direction that’s on a line to the head office. When you’re in the ring, the only person that’s going to be telling you anything is the ref, because believe it or not, refs are actually really important to wrestling- they’re the head not getting rocked that knows the overall plan of the match, and also, they’re also the safety officer of the match, making sure everyone’s okay to continue after big trainwreck spots, or if someone looks hurt and it’s not a part of the booking. And then over here are the announcers, who are directly wired to Vince McMahon in the WWE. No shit, I’m not joking. Those big headsets are for Vince to yell at people, and it’s actually really shitty to hear about.

Hot take: I think Michael Cole might actually be a great play by play man if he didn’t have this guy constantly in his ear. He’s been doing it long enough and he occasionally shows sparks of being great.

But here’s the thing: wrestling is fake, but wrestling is extremely real. At the end of the day, the ones calling the shots are the people who are so in shape and armed-while-unarmed, they can performatively kick the shit out of each other for 10, 20, 30 minutes, straight on up to an hour. There are tough refs, and tough announcers, but if a wrestler in the match wants to go off script, it’s probably safest to stay away.

This is why there have been matches that have devolved into legitimate beatings: because someone broke some of the unspoken rules of the sport and performance, or maybe someone lost control. In cases of blown cool, it’s often really terrible to look at. But sometimes, sometimes, the argument can be said that a severe beating might have actually done less damage, because in those cases of sometimes, an individual is out of control, and either too adrenalized or otherwise stupid to listen to sense.

Or it’s because the person absorbing the beating earned a Receipt. Because when people get out of control in wrestling, start throwing their weight around, what happens is the folks backstage or even in the office will quite literally order a hit, or carry one out themselves. Because again, some people won’t be told, and you don’t actually have to deal with the jackass that wants to hit you stiff just because he wants to when you’ve got someone bigger and tougher and better at fighting legit, who is willing to make this bad actor suffer for a greater good.

Hulk Hogan is a person that has more than earned a receipt. The number of receipts he’s owing is like that scene from Miracle on 34th Street, with the bags and bags of letters to Santa, except it’s the receipts of people he’s fucked over. Unfortunately, even though it’s a thing that’s possible- remember Stan Hansen? One of the people to actually beat hell from Hogan -if you’re Shawn Michaels, you’re not going to go out there with the intent to injure Hulk Hogan. Because as infuriating as it is, Hulk Hogan is still invulnerable at this point in his career, you stretch Hogan, you intentionally damage The Immortal One, you’re in trouble, even if you are ten times the in-ring worker he is.

But that’s the thing right? Shawn Michaels, despite his past filled with troubles, and his history of backstage issues, is actually in the right to be angry here. He should be furious. Because not only was he told to just accept his lot in yet another Hogan tantrum over having to job, he was told “don’t go into business for yourself.” This means, don’t mess this up to make yourself good, don’t go off script, do the work as ordered and keep your mouth shut.

I’m not Shawn Michaels, I can’t speak for his state of mind, because I really imagine we’re quite different people- again, nothing harsh, people are just different. But what I choose to see in his choice with this match is something that only he could pull off, something that was at once so astonishingly deft and masterful, but also so incredibly petty and childish, that it could only be described as pure pro wrestling.

Shawn Michaels, in my approximation, did not go into business for himself; he went into business for everyone else that had ever been fed the plate that was sat in front of him. And he didn’t lace up his wrestling boots.

He put on his clown shoes.

In recent years, Shawn has attempted to describe what’s happening here as being no different than how Dolph Ziggler sells. I understand what he’s trying to say, but Shawn? Ziggler doesn’t have anywhere near this level of comedic timing. 

What I see here is instead Shawn Michaels attacking Hulk Hogan with the only weapon he’s been left with, but the only one that actually works. It’s one that’s borne both out his athletic ability and wrestling experience. Shawn Michaels knows what good wrestling is, and because of that, he also knows what bad wrestling is. And this is the sword that he’s using to cleave into this all-powerful deity, this man who is called “Immortal.” It’s a weapon that’s neither magical nor divine; it’s not even made out of metal; he’s hitting The Hulkster with a sword made out of balloon animal balloons, and with each connecting strike, a humiliating squeak emits, a rubbery fart sound filling the air. This is self-debasement expressed in the “I’m going down, but I’m taking you with me” sense. This is an attack directly to the maintained and polished image of “Legend” Hulk Hogan has profited off of for decades, by scrawling a Sharpie dick on the forehead of his golden statue.

And you can look on the face of this Legend, and see how much it’s hurting him.

BECAUSE WHO WOULD FEAR EGO DEATH MORE THAN A MAN MADE ENTIRELY OUT OF EGO?

Sometimes victories only feel big. Guilltoning an aristocrat doesn’t bring back the people whose decadence they starved, it just chops the head off someone that doesn’t even realize how terrible they are, or they do, they just don’t see it as a problem. Hulk Hogan left a trail of buried or damaged careers in his wake. His need to be the center of attention is one of the reasons why the once biggest wrestling promotion to date has been dead for nearly two decades now, its brand made too poison to even consider relaunching. This won’t rectify that, this won’t repair that damage. It’s ultimately better to protect what you have. But sometimes someone takes too much, too often, with the sort of blatant disregard for everyone else in this supposedly collaborative effort, that you wonder if they actually know you can’t just harvest, you’ve also got to plant. Against individuals like that, vengeance can be acceptable justice. 

Shawn Michaels isn’t one of my personal favorite wrestlers, though I do think he’s a legend and undeniable talent, an individual who I will absolutely pull up highlights of and mark out at. It’s more that he’s of a style that’s a little off from what I look for in a wrestler, that’s why I wouldn’t say he’s a favorite. But all that said, once, in a moment of glorious nonsense, he shed his form of a skilled professional wrestler and became an avenger with the wisdom and skill to wound a greedy god, from within the very heart of his own domain, momentarily exposing him as a sham by doing what he, the manipulative orange trickster, would never do: He acted like an idiot, and by extension, made the supposed Immortal one look like a bigger idiot.

So for that, I’ll hit his music.

[Much Deserved Sexy Boy]