Read My Life Outside the Ring Online
Authors: Hulk Hogan
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My Life Outside the Ring
My Life Outside the Ring
Hulk Hogan
First published in the USA by St. Martin’s Press in 2009
First published in Australia by Hodder & Stoughton in 2009
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
Copyright © Eric Bischoff, LLC.
The right of Eric Bischoff, LLC. to be identified as the Author
of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance with
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the
prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any
form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without
a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Epub ISBN 9781848946675
Book ISBN 9781444704242
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
To Brooke and Nick, for accompanying me on this
journey from old life to new.
I love you.
To Jennifer, for helping me realize how beautiful life is. I love you.
To Linda, I pray that you find peace and joy in life.
I love you.
Contents
PART III: Trials and Tribulations
Afterword: Expect the Unexpected
Acknowledgments
This book could not have been written without the support of great friends—some old, some new—and I’m grateful for all of them.
Thanks to Eric Bischoff for being there every step of the way. Jason Hervey for bringing me relief when the chips were down. Henry Holmes for seeing me through the last twenty-five years. Scott Hervey for taking on my new burdens. Also Peter Young, my agent, who has become my blood brother. David Houston for absorbing the attacks of the last two years while turning into a real friend and guiding light in the process. Also, to Michael Bernard Beckwith and James Arthur Ray for awakening the Spirit of Christ that has always been in me. I know now I am responsible for my own joy and happiness.
Nothing would be possible without the support of the Hogan Hit Men—the guys who would lay down their lives for me (as I would for them)—Jimmy Hart, Brian Knobs, Brutus, and Big Todd “Yeah-Yeah-Yeah.” And, of course, the man who’ll take our antics to the grave and who’s always there no matter how heavy it gets, Bubba the Love Sponge. (No, Linda, we are not gay lovers.)
I would also like to thank Elizabeth Rosenthal for always watching my back, not to mention making the connection that sparked this book in the first place. Joel Kneedler at Alive Communications and Kathryn Huck at St. Martin’s Press for making it possible that my words actually land on the bookshelves. Steve Chapman for being such a good friend and holding down the neighborhood! Finally, thanks to my personal shrink—Mark Dagostino—for helping me write one hell of a book!
I’m heading into the second half of the game now; I’m especially grateful to Nick, Brooke, and Jennifer for moving forward with me—present and aware in every moment.
I bless those who curse me and pray for those who have spitefully used me. I am sorry, I
had
to leave them behind.
Introduction
Three pounds. I remember thinking,
Three pounds of pressure is all it takes to pull this thing.
Do you know how easy that would’ve been? I’d been staring at myself in the bathroom mirror for two days straight.
Two days.
A gun was in my hand and my finger was on the trigger and I was thinking,
It would just be so easy.
I felt like a snake charmer. I was headed down this dark road convincing myself it was a road I wanted to take. The weird thing was, I didn’t even remember bringing that gun into the bathroom.
When did I pick
this
up? Was it in the safe? Did I have it in the car with me the other night?
I bought that gun years ago to protect my family. A last resort. Was I really gonna use it for this?
I popped half a Xanax and took another swig from the big bottle of Captain Morgan’s I’d set on the counter.
The house was empty. Too quiet. I don’t do well alone. My kids were gone. My wife was gone. She had left before, but this was different. She didn’t want to fix things. She’d filed for divorce—actually went to a lawyer and filed papers after twenty-three years. My mind kept running through it all, over and over.
My daughter thinks I’m the reason Linda left. There’s so much I want her to understand, but she won’t talk to me. She won’t hear my side of the story.
My thoughts drifted to my son, Nick. Nearly four months had passed since he got into that terrible car accident. And every day since, the details of that August night played over and over in my mind.
It’s not often
that a man can pinpoint the moment when life as he knew it began to unravel. For me, it was just after seven thirty on the night of August 26, 2007.
After a long day out on the boat, I’d grabbed a quick shower and hopped in my black Mercedes to head to dinner. Nick and his three buddies had gone just ahead of me to grab a table at Arigato, this Japanese steak house a few miles away. I assumed they’d all gone together in my yellow pickup.
I was wrong.
The fast-moving thunderheads that passed through that afternoon left the roads soaking wet. I remember my tires splashing through puddles as I left the big house on Willadel Drive. Just as I left, Nick’s friend Danny drove up in my silver Viper with his pal Barry in the passenger seat. Their windows were down, and they looked a little panicky as they pulled up beside me.
“Nick got in an accident!” they said.
Great,
I thought.
This is all I need,
thinking that it was just a fender bender.
“Where?” I asked.
They told me on Court Street near Missouri Boulevard—not much more than a mile from where we were.
For some reason it didn’t occur to me that it might be a life-threatening situation. With all the stoplights on that road, I thought they meant that Nick had rear-ended someone, or maybe someone rear-ended Nick. I was a little confused as to why Danny was driving my Viper, but I still thought Nick was in my yellow truck.
So off we went. I turned east and headed down Court Street with the sun getting ready to set behind me. All the lights were green, so I was cruising along when all of a sudden I saw flashing red-and-blues up ahead.
What the hell?
I couldn’t have left the house more than three or four minutes after Nick. But as I looked toward the intersection of Court and Missouri there were police cars in the middle of the road blocking traffic in both directions.