Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair: Legacies Mortgaged

I grew up watching the true greats of professional wrestling, much like many of my fellow 20-something members of the IWC.

My first pay-per-view was WrestleMania VI, and I still vividly remember watching, in absolute awe, as The Ultimate Warrior did the unthinkable and pinned Hulk Hogan in front more than 67,000 fans (including future world champion Edge) at SkyDome in Toronto.

Five weeks before, Ric Flair headlined WrestleWar 1990 by defending the NWA World Championship against Lex Luger in a match that lasted nearly 40 minutes.

This year marked the 20th anniversary of the night I became hooked on pro wrestling for good. As Shawn Michaels ended his Hall of Fame career on WrestleMania XXVI, the two biggest names in wrestling history were at home, watching a fellow legend walk away from a truly historic in-ring career.

Unfortunately, that isn't exactly how it played out.

Flair and Hogan appeared on TNA iMPACT! the night after WrestleMania XXVI, the same night Shawn Michaels—12 years younger than Hogan and 17 years younger than Flair—hung up his wrestling boots for good.

Better symbolism for one of wrestling's biggest problems today doesn't exist.

There isn't a word or statement that can adequately quantify how sad it will be to watch 61-year-old Ric Flair take on 25-year-old Jay Lethal at Victory Road this weekend. Nor will any words encapsulate those feelings when watching 56-year-old Hulk Hogan clash with 36-year-old Abyss, which may happen as soon as the Hard Justice event next month.

Whatever the reasons may be, the two biggest icons in pro wrestling history, the men who made professional wrestling a worldwide phenomenon in the '80s and '90s, are still around—and active—in 2010.

Maybe Hogan doesn't want to hang around the house after his ugly and public divorce. Maybe Flair just can't let the business go.

But for guys with their level of celebrity, I'm sure they could find something better to do with themselves.

It's a dangerous road to travel, and for long-time wrestling fans, it's sad to see men who essentially ruled the wrestling world in the '80s and '90s working these undignified roles.

What is equally sad are the memories these men are creating for the next generation of wrestling fans.

Younger wrestling fans may never know the Ric Flair and Hulk Hogan that we grew up knowing. They may hear of the championships (16 for Flair, 12 for Hogan), but they may never remember seeing Hulkamania truly run wild. They may never have the memories of the real stylin' and profilin' Ric Flair, the leader of the original Four Horsemen.

For the sake of the men coming to the ends of their careers—40-something stars like The Undertaker, Triple H, and Kane—I hope the career paths Hogan and Flair (and, to a lesser extent, Sting) have taken serve as exhibits A through Z as to what not to do near the end.