Hitman

Bret Hart

Grand Central Publishing

www.HachetteBookGroup.com

$16.99

Reviewed by Joe Babinsack

Bret Hart’s Autobiography has been out for some time, but I had the book gifted for Christmas, and wanted to offer my take on the contents.

There’s no complaints about the length, relative to the depth nor the writing style of the book. Bret Hart had been writing about wrestling in the Calgary Sun, and has the perspective of a World Champion, the unquestionable talent of his family’s legacy, and a creative streak that covers art, wrestling and writing. Hart definitely has a smooth style in the ring and on the page.

Bret’s place among the greats is something that will depend upon your generation, and mostly upon whether you watched wrestling in the early to mid 1990’s.

While he has a distinct position as a man who bridged Old School traditions and modern sensibilities, and worked well within both ages, his claim to fame as a Champion occurred early in the 1990’s, and just before the wrestling world ignited beyond belief, ironically after he was convinced that the WWF (the WWE at the time) was in financial peril, and after Vince McMahon capitalized on the infamy of screwing Bret out of the belt in the most controversial of controversies in the sport.

Because of the timing of his most important reigns, Bret was truly a transitional figure in the industry, winning the WWF World Championship from Ric Flair for his first reign, feuding with his eternal arch-nemesis Shawn Michaels, then launching the careers of Stone Cold Steve Austin in an awesome match, and launching the TV character of Vince McMahon in his most famous moment.

But was Bret’s reputation much larger than the numbers?

The WWF of the early 1990’s is considered a down cycle for the company, albeit mostly because of the steroids scandals, and the question of whether anyone could have followed, let alone filled the shoes of Hulk Hogan (especially considering that he brought about a huge part of the scandals.)

Yet Hart’s holding of the belt maintained more popularity than Michaels and much more than Diesel at that same time frame.

The problem with measuring greatness is that there remains no true measuring stick. The problem with measuring the greatness of Bret Hart is that fifteen and twenty years after his prime, the notion of greatness in terms of workrate, in terms of great matches and in terms of pure wrestling skill is so alien to mainstream fans today that Bret’s claim as being the “best there is, best there was and best there ever will be” seems like a tired catch-phrase, and little more.

Hart’s title reigns measured a little over two years, and he held the WWF World Heavyweight Championship five times, adding two more World Titles with WCW, and really not much more than two months from that promotion.

But measuring greatness is purely subjective.

The fascinating part of it to me is that comparing careers is not an exact science; realizing how the differences in styles, personalities and more so, how personal feuds and fan perceptions cloud the issues.

The fascinating thing is that mainstream non-fans cannot tell the difference between the big names in the industry. What’s the use, most of them would say, since it’s all a four letter word beginning with “f”.

The reality is much different. Bret Hart had a distinctive style. As did Hogan, Stone Cold, Flair and Bruno Sammartino. Lou Thesz and other old school masters. Professional wrestling fans know the difference, and that’s the important part.

Bret Hart’s book isn’t focused on making his case for being the greatest, but he sure does try to build a foundation for it. That’s an aspect of the book that I found distracting. Hart readily calls other territories “phony” looking, to the point that his quick judgments and lack of reasoning are suspect. If Calgary Stampede Wrestling was the pinnacle of the sport, then why did it take the Dynamite Kid to revitalize it?

Bret’s perspective is that his work in the 1970’s was impressive, even though he was not allowed to work in Madison Square Garden. According to him, he worked hour long broadways with Nick Bockwinkle and Harley Race.

And yet, he blew up after 20 minutes when wrestling in Japan, because they tricked him to run after flower girls and rip up the flowers to look like a heel?

There’s a level of inconsistency here that cannot be ignored.

Bret readily admits to womanizing as his vice, yet hides behind the statement that “relative to” the Steroid freaks and drug abusers, he didn’t do much of that. That’s like me saying, relative to Dave Meltzer, I don’t do much writing about professional wrestling. Sure, it’s true in comparison, but is it as honest a statement as explaining all the times Bret Hart wants to reveal his on-the-road affairs?

Bret is quick to castigate fellow workers, yet the only label that resonates is when he relays his father Stu’s analysis of Ric Flair as a “routine man”. Otherwise, it’s pure opinion, and to back up his opinion on what was realistic and what was not, he says “I didn’t know how or when or where I learned these things, but I knew they were true.”

This is the same man that plays the argument that if you were not a wrestler, you couldn’t comment on wrestling. It’s kind of hard to correlate the two approaches.

Another approach of the book that I find inconsistent is the shifting of views, opinions and references – without the explanation of why he changed his mind. Early on, Dave Meltzer is “no friend” of Bret Hart. Then Hart quotes Meltzer as an authority. That change makes sense after the Montreal Screwjob, yet the timeline doesn’t fit.

And yet his views on Hogan and McMahon are pretty darn consistent, despite the piling evidence that Hogan never really had Bret’s best interests, and despite the fact that McMahon/Hart dynamics were at best based on a exploitative employer/employee relationship, and at worst, were based on opposite ends of a very public piece of litigation, and a rather public humiliation and a lot of bad blood.

I can certainly see where it’s not a big deal for Bret to go back to the WWE these days, because he just never shows the animosity to Vince that one might expect. That surprising lack of emotion over Vince Russo is also baffling – the man who could be called responsible for putting Owen Hart up in the rafters of the Kemper Arena, and who orchestrated a several week nightmare of stunts and never seemed to blink at one of his performer’s claims of a severe concussion.

In a book where Bret details phone messages from his family, he glosses over conversations he had with Vince when they apparently reconciled after Owen’s accidental death. Insight into that would have been details gladly welcomed.

Hart certainly has the prerogative to write as he feels and change his mind as he sees fit, but how many moments must there be in the book where you have to wonder how he got to that point?

That’s the biggest inconsistency and the biggest obstacle I had in enjoying the book. I’ve just read about 550 pages of Bret’s life, and I really don’t have much on his personality. Not much on what makes him tick. Not much about the man, as much as I know about how he views things.

It just seems as though when analysis is needed, Bret provides details. When details are needed, he provides weak analysis. And when his emotions are involved, he can talk about crying unstoppably after his stroke, but how he really felt about his wife, his career and his profession, it’s just a monotone and clinical observation, even at the most damning moments.

One of the most important aspects of the book is the effect of concussions and Bret’s details on how he met the end of his career. It is painful to read how he was put in position, time and time again, where he would exacerbate an already injured brain. It was telling to realize that the injury took away his ability to make a sound decision, and I would be hopeful that the powers that be in this industry would read this and realize that a man with a brain injury simply cannot be expected to protect themselves  -- what are they supposed to do, think about it?

If your brain is hurt, you can’t exactly use that organ to make a proper decision.

Beyond that, the feud with Shawn Michaels, the chronicling of the 1990’s, the seemingly dispassionate – or diminishing passion – to the business, his family and his failings, all seem secondary.

I can’t help but refer to Heath McCoy’s awesome book, Pain and Passion, which told the story of Calgary Stampede Wrestling. Passion in professional wrestling seemed more appropriate to Stu Hart than Bret, and it seems ultimately fitting that the Hitman book ends with the passing of Stu.

It just seems incredibly odd today to see Bret back in the ring, with eternal arch-nemesis Vince, in a way that goes well beyond just entering the mythical WWE Hall of Fame on behalf of his fans. Whether anyone thinks Hart should not be wrestling today or not, due to physical condition isn’t the biggest aspect of the deal..

Whether he should be wrestling in a WWE ring with Vince McMahon seems to be the crux of the matter.

Certainly, it’s better than wrestling for the crew that truly diminished and all but destroyed his career, but I just sense a compromise here that extends throughout the book. In that sense, it’s not a contradiction or a hypocrisy or a unexpected development.

But it is a peculiar point of view to consider, in that Bret Hart’s star-crossed career has returned him to the man who has done far more for his fame and fortune, but at the same time recreated himself as a monster at the expense of Bret Hart in Montreal – let alone the implications of the tragic accident that claimed the life of Owen.

Bret obviously has only himself to answer for his actions. I just wish his book was a little more descriptive in providing a sense of depth to his character to begin to try to understand his complexity.

Joe Babinsack can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it . Next up is WSU Raining Misery, some other indy stuff, plus a look at the career of Davey Richards.