It was a fateful Sunday night in the spring of 1990. For weeks and months all of our anticipations were built upon seeing the greatest single match in our brief histories of Professional Wrestling; Hulk Hogan vs. The Ultimate Warrior.
We circled the basement TV at our buddy Baldwin’s house for the PPV showing. None of us really knew what to expect or what we were about to witness for that matter. The marvels and icons we had so admired (
Hogan and Warrior) were about to clash in a battle for ultimate supremacy in the world of wrestling.
Hogan would never lose, he couldn’t lose…
right? And yes, we all knew how predictable the finish to any Hogan match had become, but still he made believers of us all. We believed in the good and the near immortality with which he stood for. How could we possibly turn our backs on this very man who was an ambassador for hope?
Yet, there stood the Ultimate Warrior. He was the younger, trendier, flashier, a bit more acrobatic wrestler who personified the term; “reckless abandonment.” Clearly, he was more gifted physically than Hogan and his unusual strength seemed to beg him to be the favorite.
However, this was no ordinary mortal he was going against. No sir, the intangibles were on Hogan’s side and rested solely in his heart. What we all
knew about Hogan was that his heart made up for so much of his achievements in the sport, a sport by which we still believed in...back then. We weren’t certain what lay beneath the steroid induced, vein popping Ultimate Warrior.
All eyes in the world were asphyxiated at the very moment these two would collide. Allegiances would have to take a back door for the simple notion of just enjoying something this spectacular. Both wrestlers more than deserved to win and hence we had no choice, but to accept the fate that lay before both men.
This was the Ultimate Warrior (Intercontinental Champion) vs. Hulk Hogan (WWF Champion). It was Title vs. Title, in a winner take all combat. It was the greatest two wrestlers of our entire generation against each other. It was a match that seemed so improbable, but was really going to happen.
Both Wrestlers choose their own path to the ring, ignoring the convenient service cart that had been escorting the competitors to the ring all night. In his usual make-up, tassels and garb the Warrior streamlined his way to the ring in frantic fashion. His “red level” state of adrenaline surged and re-surged the nearly 70,000 in attendance and the worldwide audience on PPV.
I’ve often said you aren’t human if you don’t get goose bumps anytime you hear the opening lyrics: “
When it comes crashing down and hurts inside.” The all too familiar song had done it to me once again; homage was given to the entrance of Hulk Hogan. Gorilla Monsoon commented that the roof was going to come off the Skydome, he couldn’t have been more correct.
The frenzied crowd was buried in jubilation and ecstatic with the overall level of satisfaction and joy Hogan brought to the table, just as he had done so many times before. Those were the moments many will forget about when it comes to Hogan’s legacy. He could turn a room inside out and at his pinnacle he could turn a room of 67,678 strong inside out.
His arrival to the ring was accompanied by the usual Hogan traits of “
let me hear ya” gestures to the crowd, some fist pumps and the trademark “
watcha gonna do” finger points at his opponent. The Warrior greeted Hogan’s presence by pounding his chest in angst right back at Hogan.
By the time the smoke cleared and the music had cut, the two Wrestlers were starring one another down eye-to-eye in the center of the ring. You could tell from the moment the bell rang that this was more than just a chance to pound the other into the mat. No sir, in order to win this match it was going to take wits, patience, perseverance, heart and desire.
The two wrestlers circled each other and paused momentarily before they locked in at center ring. The term “
getting a feel” for the each other was clearly taking place. The trademark frenzied attack from the Warrior was not in the repertoire on this night. You could see his strategy and much like Hogan he knew he couldn’t win the match right away.
It was a seesaw battle back and forth of poorly executed and finely executed moves. Neither wrestler wanted to make the “big” mistake that could and would cost them a chance at winning the match. At one point we got to see the sheer strength of the Warrior as he challenged Hogan to a “
feats of strength” in the center of the ring.
The predictability of most Hogan’s matches again surfaced when Hogan faintly began to submit to a sleeper/choke hold. Naturally, the arm began to shake just before unconsciousness hit on the 2 and ½ count. A few elbows to the Warrior’s midsection again served notice that if Hogan was going to lose, it would have to be the Warrior’s absolute best shot.
Coincidentally, the Warrior attempted an acrobatic move off the ropes after an “Irish Whip” that not only knocked out Hogan and himself, but also the referee. Moments after coming to, the Warrior attempted to pin Hogan and secure himself the greatest of nobility in professional wrestling. However, the referee was not to be found in order to share in the countdown of “1-2-3” along with the Warrior and the crowd.
Not to be outdone, Hogan would experience a similar feeling just moments later. Unfortunately, with wrestling there was or is no instant replay and the match would have to trudge on.
With the climax on the horizon, we were all still glued to what we expected to be a draw. How could the match possibly end any other way? I mean as naive as some of us may have been about the scripting of professional wrestling, we all just figured it would end on a count out or a double DQ.
As the match reached the latter stages of twenty some minutes, you could get the sense of Hogan being worn down. However, we had been here before. The momentum was clearly shifting to the Ultimate Warrior.
Hence, Hogan was exhausted and as Gorilla Monsoon again stated, “he looked ripe for the Pickens.” The Warrior was able to hoist Hogan into mid air just above shoulder length for his trademark “Gorilla Press.”
THIS WAS THE END FOR HOGAN…THE END!!!!!
We all gasped in shock as nobody had EVER recovered from the “Gorilla Press.” The only thing left was the “splash” and cover for the Warrior to win. He held Hogan up for what seemed like an eternity before finally dropping the icon to the mat and landing the perfect “splash” to seal the victory.
Our legend had fallen and it seemed so improbable-----but WAIT…we’ve seen this before. Hogan kicked out emphatically, despite being as defeated as any of us had ever seen him in our lifetimes. And you wonder why we believe in this guy? And you wonder why his legacy still exists today? And you wonder why I am writing an essay about a wrestling match that happened 15 years ago?
Hogan shook off the flurry of chops and punches from the Warrior. The crowd was electric despite having seen and known this routine before, it still just wasn’t old. It’s what we all wanted; it’s what we all believed in for so long.
Amazement and fear struck the eyes of the Warrior whose paint had long since been washed away by his own sweat and tears. The stars had aligned and everything was primed for Hogan to reclaim or at least put the stamp on his throne of dominance.
We knew what was coming next. Yup, a flurry of Hogan shaking and telling the Warrior “Oh, no buddy…you made a mistake…you should’ve pinned me when you had the chance.” It was the same old script, but nobody gave a shit once Hogan started connecting on shattering blows to the face. In fact, we all counted in unison (those in the crowd and those watching on TV)…1-2-3-4-5…and so on as Hogan landed punches.
Then came the “Big Boot” to the face…JUBILATION!!! Hugs and high fives all around as Hogan was coming up “big”, in the big spot, once again. All that was left was the “Leg Drop” and then “I AM A REAL AMERICAN” would be blasting over the P.A.
However, in the fainting seconds of the infamous Hogan “Leg Drop”, the Warrior somehow managed to slide out from underneath the assault. What happened next was like seeing a Hail Mary to win a game or a steal and a half-court buzzer beater during March Madness. A state of shock had come over everyone.
It happened so fast that we had little time to even ponder what might happen next. After the Warrior ducked the “Leg Drop”, a startled Hogan lay motionless on the mat and the Warrior wasted no time. Once again he landed his trademark splash and this time he wouldn’t be denied.
In a blink of an eye, the three count had hit, the bell had rung and Hulk Hogan had been defeated. A deflated group of us sat and watched the fireworks go off in the Skydome and the ensuing celebration from the new WWF Champion, the Ultimate Warrior. Heck, he was also still the Intercontinental Champion…the guy was the king of the sport.
A cerebral and emotionally drained Hulk Hogan couldn’t resist the temptation of tears as he looked on outside the ring. Had I been alone on that day, I too probably would’ve cried. Hogan looked on in disbelief and was slow to gather himself. At that moment we could truly see the human side of our beloved hero. He was no longer the best; he had been beaten fair and square.
What happened next summed up the character of who Hulk Hogan really is and was. An act built so rich on Sportsmanship in a sport like Wrestling seemed illogical if not impossible. However, Hogan wasn’t going to hide the appreciation he had gained for and from his competitor.
Hogan grabbed his former Championship belt and instead of smashing it over the head of the newly crowned Ultimate Warrior he graciously re-entered the ring and as the music stopped, presented it the Warrior in what many wrestling circles have called the “passing of the torch.”
The Warrior looked surprisingly astonished and not sure how to act, as if such an act could never be expected in such a sport. However, the mutual respect couldn’t help, but overshadow any part of the celebration. The two hugged in the center of the ring to the delight of many a wrestling fan.
The Warrior raised Hogan’s arm in acknowledgement of everything Hogan had done for the sport, not just on that night, but throughout his entire career. Not wanting to steal any of the Warrior’s moment, Hogan quickly backed away and rode off in the escort cart back to the locker room.
He received an ovation unlike any other and probably the most significant one of his career. Regardless of losing, the fans still loved this guy and really could you honestly blame them? Hogan fought back tears as he rode away to the showers of admiration.
I seldom watched wrestling much after that night. Hulk Hogan slowly became an afterthought in the world of wrestling and hence so too did my interest. His brief returns just weren’t the same by my standards.
That night changed everything, but it changed everything for the better. It stands out to me as the sole reason Hulk Hogan’s legacy will never be forgotten. I’ll never lose respect for the guy, even if he is making rap albums with Jimmy Hart, even though he spray painted on a black beard and became Hollywood.
Heck, even though he made a reality TV show with his family and just walked around in wrestling tights all day at age 60. Even, though he was never really a “great” technique wrestler and his moves and script were the same every match. Despite it all, I’ll always give the guy the credit he deserves.
And believe me, the song “I am a Real American”, still does it for me…you’d understand this story a lot more if it still does it for you. Anyhow, like I was saying…that night back in 1990 changed everything. And as Hogan rode off that night Gorilla Monsoon couldn’t have stated it any better.
“Hulk Hogan has gone from mortal to immortal.”He really did and he really has, it’s been 15 years and I haven’t forgotten.
Have you?
I'm not going to go into my usual routine of "hope and optimism", but even watching yesterday's broadcast on WGN I could sense something special. The overwhelming joy and jubilation that flooded Wrigley Field on Friday afternoon was something that hasn't been there since the Marlins, Steve Bartman and the Cubs themselves ripped out our hearts in 2003.
Je vous possède. 
The Cubs are coming in “streaking”, yet the Brewers have also been completely on fire. Perhaps, that’s why despite a 6 game winning streak the Cubs have only managed to pick up a game on the Brew Crew. Regardless, something is going to have to give this weekend. And by god, it had better be the Brewers. We need this for shit sake.
In another season of hope and despair in Chicago, the Cubs capped us with our most despairing and optimistic moments…both taking place last night. As a recurring theme, the bullpen coughed up all of the 8-3 lead the Cubs had built against the Colorado Rockies. It appeared to be the death of hope, coming off a three game sweep of the White Sox.
This is the view you get for $15.
Sunset on the San Diego Skyline.
Well, I can’t help myself into thinking just how special the moment really was. And yes, it was vastly significant that this milestone did come against the Chicago Cubs. For all practical purposes, Sosa was the face of the Cubs for an entire era. He reigned supreme as Mr. Cub for so many years it’s hard to just forget.
You really didn’t see the writing on the wall? Zambrano didn’t just punch you in the face for no reason. Sure, he said he was sorry, but there was still literal meaning behind those punches. What else did he really have left to say to you? Judging from your black eyes and swollen lip…he already said enough.
do nothing, but send love our way on a regular basis. (No...not that kind of love...sick fuckers). Anyhow, we'll do our best (and for sure not ready for a regular segment). We'll try to click on each of these links at least 40 times, so it looks like people actually check us out. Anyway...on we go with some of our favorite links. Happy Fathers Day to all and enjoy the rest of what remains of your weekend.
I’m Rich Bitch!
The U.S Citizen
Rasta Manny
Super Manny
Yet, still this was Michael Jordan’s arrival. He’d overcome the demons of Detroit and reached the brink. And he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way of the throne. Yup, “Air to the Throne” was the last of 4 successive weeks on the cover of Sports Illustrated awarded to MJ that June. It was that same June when Scottie Pippen was born into stardom and sat in as the main guest on the Arsenio Hall Show during the Finals.
Can Cubs fans finally thank Lou 
Argh, I hate that fucking song and I hate having to deliver the airbrush touch up on the remnants that are the sad state of what we know as the Detroit Pistons. However, again…I can’t say I didn’t see the writing on the wall or couldn’t see this coming. It all goes back to that life span of a current NBA contender not lasting much more than 5 years, sans the elite dynasties, such as the Spurs.
Shit, I don’t like LeBron James all that much, but I’d donate a testicle to have him run with our Fab Four (Prince, Wallace, Hamilton and Billups). I’m sure no damned fool, but let me get it straight…Gooden, Varajoke and Z is more comforting than ‘Sheed, huh? Ok, it’s cool anyone around basketball knows ‘Sheed has swagger almost to a fault, but they also know he is one hell of a teammate and about as fierce a competitor as it gets.
