The Undertaker Reveals Horrors That He Saw In Hulk Hogan’s Underground Tunnel
“You, I don’t know what you expect. Like, people are gonna, you know, they’re going to react—and they’re not going to react in a positive way.”
The Undertaker has never been a fan of Hulk Hogan, both inside and outside the ring. For years, fans dismissed their coldness toward each other as a matter of professional rivalry. But Undertaker’s most recent interview shattered that illusion, revealing a sinister twist few could have imagined. It all centered around a chilling location: a tunnel beneath Hogan’s Florida mansion. A tunnel of dirty secrets. A tunnel of horrors.
From the moment Hogan’s name was mentioned, Undertaker’s body language shifted. He didn’t smirk or reminisce about the so-called golden days of Hulkamania. Instead, he grew tense, uneasy, almost as if the weight of memories long buried was dragging him down. His words painted a different Hulk Hogan than the red-and-yellow superhero fans idolized in the 1980s—a man hiding shadows deeper than any scandal splashed across the headlines.
Hogan’s career has always been a contradiction. On the surface, he was the all-American hero, telling kids to eat their vitamins, say their prayers, and believe in themselves. But beneath that mask was a man consumed by ego, betrayal, and control. Scandals followed him—racist remarks caught on tape, sex scandals involving friends’ wives, lawsuits that destroyed entire media outlets. Yet, according to Undertaker, those were only symptoms of something much darker: the secrets buried beneath his own home.
The so-called “Hogan Tunnel” has been whispered about in wrestling circles for years. Some dismissed it as folklore, others swore it existed. But Undertaker confirmed it, not as rumor, but as reality—and worse, as a place where unspeakable things occurred. This wasn’t just a passage. It was Hogan’s lair. A secret world carved out beneath his mansion, away from public light. A world Undertaker himself had seen, and one that still haunted him decades later.
For Undertaker, Hogan’s tunnel symbolized everything wrong with the man behind the Hulkamania mask. Hogan wasn’t just selfish backstage or manipulative with promoters. He built an underworld for himself, a literal hiding place for indulgence, control, and darkness. The things Undertaker hinted at weren’t just stories of ego—they were horrors he carried as memory. He recalled hidden rooms filled with memorabilia Hogan refused to display publicly, archives of tapes and recordings that could ruin him if exposed, and spaces where indulgence ran unchecked, guarded by secrecy and silence.
The revelations only add weight to Hogan’s already crumbling reputation. Among wrestlers, locker room respect defines legacy as much as main-event victories. Veterans are expected to lift up younger talent, to “pay it forward.” Hogan, however, pulled the ladder up behind him, politicking his way into main events, refusing to lose matches that would make others stars, and cutting down rivals to preserve his spot. Bret Hart, Kevin Nash, and countless others have spoken of Hogan’s selfishness, but Undertaker’s story goes beyond politics—it exposes Hogan’s entire double life.
Modern wrestling fans, armed with podcasts, shoot interviews, and behind-the-scenes documentaries, no longer separate the performer from the man. They demand authenticity. And authenticity was the one thing Hogan could never give them. His Netflix appearance was supposed to be a nostalgic homecoming, but it turned into a public humiliation, with fans booing him mercilessly. To them, Hogan wasn’t returning as a legend. He was returning as a fraud, cashing in on a name long since tainted.
Undertaker’s words cut to the heart of this reality. Hogan, he said, wasn’t the man he claimed to be. Not on TV, not backstage, and certainly not in the shadows of his private tunnel. What fans saw was the performance. What Undertaker saw was the truth. The Mount Rushmore figure of wrestling was carved in stone above ground—but beneath that, hidden in the tunnels, was Hogan’s true face, and it was horrifying.
By breaking his silence, Undertaker gave us more than gossip. He gave us a glimpse into the hidden underworld of one of wrestling’s biggest icons. The tunnel, both literal and metaphorical, represents Hogan’s downfall. It is the symbol of his contradictions, the space where his real self lived, away from the spotlight. For decades, silence protected it. Now, thanks to Undertaker, that silence has been shattered. The world finally knows: Hulk Hogan wasn’t just a flawed hero. He was a man who built his legacy on a lie—and buried his truths underground.
