In death, as in life, Hulk Hogan remains a polarizing figure—lionized by some as the man who brought wrestling to the mainstream, and condemned by others as the architect of one of the industry’s most toxic eras. The Hulk Hogan legacy scandal adds another complex layer to this longstanding debate.
Hogan, born Terry Bollea, passed away earlier this summer. The outpouring from fans was immediate, but what followed was far from a unified tribute. In fact, his passing has ignited a flood of uncomfortable reckonings, long-buried accusations, and personal vendettas that stretch across four decades of wrestling lore.
“Do I like Hulk Hogan? No, I don’t,” said Bret Hart in a now-viral video. “I think he’s a phony piece of s***. Never could trust him.”
Those words, unfiltered and raw, underscore the reckoning the wrestling world has been grappling with—what exactly was Hulk Hogan’s legacy?
The Scandal That Shook Gawker—and a Friendship
For many, the beginning of the end came not in the ring, but in a courtroom. Hogan’s infamous sex tape scandal led to a $140 million judgment against Gawker Media, effectively bankrupting the outlet. The details were sordid. The tape—recorded without Hogan’s knowledge—showed him having sex with the wife of his then-friend, a shock jock radio host who goes by “Bubba the Love Sponge.”
According to Bubba, Hogan was suicidal at the time, mid-divorce, and staying in his guest room. The tape, Bubba claimed, was part of a bizarre arrangement between consenting adults. But when the footage leaked, Hogan was quick to pivot: he claimed to be the victim of extortion. In a stunning twist, Hogan and his legal team went to the FBI and orchestrated a sting, writing a dummy check to ensnare those trying to sell the tape.
It was, by many accounts, a masterstroke. But it also revealed the transactional nature of Hogan’s personal relationships—and how far he was willing to go to protect his brand.
A Tarnished Icon
While the courtroom victory momentarily redeemed Hogan in the public eye, his career took a nosedive just months later. A separate leaked recording captured him using racial slurs and expressing discomfort over his daughter’s relationship with a Black man.
“I mean, I am a racist to a point,” Hogan was caught saying. “Fing n**s.”
The fallout was immediate. WWE terminated his contract, scrubbed his name from their website, and distanced the brand from the man who had once defined it.
But for many inside the wrestling world, this was no surprise.
A Pattern of Manipulation
Former colleagues paint a darker portrait—one not of a hero who fell from grace, but of a deeply flawed figure whose behind-the-scenes behavior fostered an environment of fear, favoritism, and sabotage.
“He was a manipulator,” said Matt Bourne, better known as Doink the Clown. “An arrogant f***er. Always has been.”
Jesse Ventura, a fellow legend, claimed Hogan personally undermined a movement to unionize wrestlers in the 1980s—tipping off Vince McMahon and ending any hope of labor protections for talent.
Even The Undertaker, known for his stoic professionalism, spoke of being deceived by Hogan during an injury dispute in 1991. “He faked it,” Undertaker said. “That’s when I lost all trust in him.”
Broken Homes, Estranged Children
Outside the ring, Hogan’s life was no less turbulent. His 26-year marriage to Linda Hogan ended in a bitter divorce, fueled by accusations of physical abuse and an affair with his daughter’s close friend.
Brooke Hogan, once a reality TV fixture alongside her father on Hogan Knows Best, has recently alleged both of her parents exhibited sexually inappropriate behavior. In a 2025 social media post, she described them as “sex addicts,” revealing she had cut off contact years earlier.
Linda Hogan has since confirmed that she hasn’t spoken to her daughter in nearly a decade, blaming Hulk for the family’s dysfunction.
From Hero to Pariah
Colleagues describe a pattern of self-preservation and sabotage. Bret Hart says Hogan refused to lose cleanly to him in 1993, damaging Hart’s momentum as WWE’s top babyface. “He promised me the title,” Hart said, “and backed out.”
Others, including CM Punk, Scott Steiner, and even Randy Savage, publicly questioned Hogan’s ethics, motivations, and personal character.
“There’s a reason he got booed in California,” Steiner once said. “That man was never who he pretended to be.”
The Myth of Hulkamania
At the peak of his fame, Hogan marketed himself as the moral center of wrestling: preaching vitamins, prayer, and clean living. But in the 1994 federal trial of Vince McMahon, he admitted to over a decade of steroid use.
Backstage, he wielded his star power like a cudgel. In WCW, he had creative control written into his contracts and reportedly used it to quash rising stars. Jeff Jarrett called Hogan’s influence “a self-centered, egotistical power play” that helped sink the company.
When he moved to TNA Wrestling, the results were similarly disastrous. Viewership declined, and the promotion never recovered.
A Final Curtain Call
Even toward the end, controversy clung to him. After marrying yoga instructor Sky Daly—25 years his junior—his children declined to attend. Rumors about his health swirled online, prompting his wife to post videos denying that he was dying. Weeks later, he was dead.
The reaction from the wrestling community was telling. Official tributes were muted. Fellow legends like The Iron Sheik, who famously lost to Hogan to launch Hulkamania, had for years publicly derided him.
Modern stars like Seth Rollins, MJF, and Shelton Benjamin celebrated the fact that fans had finally seen through the mythology.
A Cautionary Tale
In the end, Hulk Hogan’s story is not just about one man’s rise and fall, but about the culture he helped cement—one where star power excused misconduct, where politics mattered more than merit, and where drawing power became a license for abuse.
The industry is changing. Younger talent no longer tolerates what was once considered “just part of the business.” They speak out. They push back.
Wrestling, in many ways, is beginning to heal from its past.
And perhaps, that is Hulk Hogan’s true legacy—not the sold-out arenas, nor the championship belts, but the cautionary tale he became. A reminder that ego unchecked can turn even the brightest stars into black holes.
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