The character of Hulk Hogan is the reason I fell in love with professional wrestling. For a lifelong Hulkamaniac like me, the yellow and red isn’t just a color scheme; it’s the visual shorthand for childhood heroism. Over the years, I’ve had the good fortune to meet the man twice—the first time at WrestleMania XXX in New Orleans, where I shook his hand and told him he was my hero, and more recently at WrestleMania 40 right here in my hometown of Philadelphia. During that second meeting, he joked with me about his body falling apart, a reminder of the physical toll the business took on him.

But after watching the Hulk Hogan: Real American documentary series on Netflix, I found myself sitting in the silence of my living room with a heavy heart and a mountain of conflicting feelings.

For a long time, I held Hulk Hogan and the man behind the persona, Terry Bollea, in the highest regard. But the documentary forces you to grapple with the reality that the hero we saw on screen and the man behind the curtain are two very different, and often diametrically opposed, entities.

The series doesn’t shy away from the darker chapters, and seeing them laid out in succession is a sobering experience. We see the fallout from his racist remarks, which felt like a betrayal to the millions of fans who were told to “believe in themselves.” We see the disintegration of his family life, fueled by his infidelity to his then-wife Linda. As someone who has spent years researching the history of professional wrestling—specifically the labor dynamics of TNA—it was also painful to watch those parts of the documentary and mentally revisit how he and Eric Bischoff stripped TNA of its unique identity. They led Dixie Carter down a path of poor decision-making that essentially set the company’s financial future on fire. More recently, his public support for Donald Trump has, for many, served as the final confirmation of views that they find impossible to reconcile with the “Real American” anthem.

The most poignant and devastating moment in the documentary for me was when Terry spoke about his “happiest days.” He said he was at his best when his children were young, and Linda was being an amazing mother. It was a rare, vulnerable glimpse into Terry Bollea, the human being. It made me incredibly sad for him because, in that moment, he seemed to realize that his peak happiness is in the rearview mirror—and that it’s gone largely because of the choices he made.

While Terry Bollea did a masterful job of bringing Hulk Hogan to life, this documentary ultimately serves as a cautionary tale. It shows how easily a life can veer off course when a series of poor choices causes irreparable harm to those around you.

I wanted so much more for Terry Bollea. I wanted the man to be as inspiring as the character was to me as a kid. But while the legacy of Hulk Hogan will likely live on as a cornerstone of pop culture history, I don’t think that legacy will ever be able to “kick out” the damage done by Terry Bollea’s decisions. It’s a tragedy in several acts, leaving fans like me wondering how to cherish the memories while acknowledging the man’s reality.

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