CLEARWATER, Fla. — Michael Babor thought this was going to be a simple family trip to Disney. The Pitt Meadows, B.C., native travelled to Orlando with his wife, two daughters and a family friend. It was only once they’d all arrived in Florida that he caught wind of karaoke night at Hogan’s Hangout in Clearwater and realized he had a chance to live out a childhood dream.
Babor follows Hulk Hogan on social media and learned the wrestling icon now lives in Clearwater and appears at the bar he owns, at the corner of Mandalay Avenue and Baymont Street, every Monday night to host fans.
Babor is retired and now sings for hire at weddings and birthdays. Hogan was his childhood idol ever since his father took him to Vancouver’s Pacific Coliseum in 1986, when Babor was 12, to see a WWE house show that included Hogan facing Andre the Giant in a tag-team match.
“He was my North Star as a 12-year-old child,” Babor says. “My spirit animal.”
When Hogan would tell his “Hulkamaniacs” in the 1980s and early ’90s to train, say their prayers and take their vitamins, Babor clearly listened. He’s a big man and on this Monday night at Hogan’s Hangout, he’s dressed for the occasion, wearing a sleeveless “Hollywood Rules” shirt, a nod to the wrestler’s time as “Hollywood Hulk Hogan” in WCW. Sporting a crew cut — picture Metallica frontman James Hetfield’s current look — he’s decked out in sunglasses, plenty of rings on his fingers, a silver watch on one wrist and a thick, silver bracelet on the other.
After the DJ opens with a song, Babor is the first patron to grab the microphone and launches into “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi. He’s confident and possesses a commanding voice. Everyone in the bar can tell the man is a pro. He’s got his hand gestures down pat, knows when to play air guitar and even points the mic to the crowd at one point so they can join in on the chorus.
The packed, standing-room crowd of about 150 people is firmly in the palm of Barbor’s hand and right as he hits the crescendo — ‘Cause I’m a cowboyyyyy — magic happens.
There’s a stir inside the bar as security guards make their way to a side entrance.
Hogan has arrived.
The Hulkster has been watching Babor’s spirited performance. As he walks in, he gives Babor a handshake and a hug. The wrestling legend is clearly impressed.
“The crescendo of my life happened on this trip,” Babor says later. “I can die now.”
As Babor steps aside, Hogan is introduced by his son, Nick, who’s MC for the night.
“The champ is here: Hulk Hogan,” Nick yells, before handing his father a mic.
Despite his multiple surgeries over the past several years, including back operations and knee and hip replacements, the 70-year-old Hogan looks great. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his famous pythons, which may no longer measure 24-inches but are still massive. A cross on a giant gold chain hangs around his neck. A blue, tie-dye bandana covers his head.
Hogan puts his ear to the crowd, as if he’s back in the squared circle, and gets right into character. “What’s up, maniacs?” Hogan asks enthusiastically. “Man, we got a packed house. This is kind of like Madison Square Garden when I slammed the Giant. It’s crazy.”
Hogan has been doing this for years. It’s an open secret in these parts that the icon appears every Monday to host this event, now a Mecca for wrestling diehards. Scan the room and you’ll take in a sea of NWO shirts and middle-aged men in Hulkamania bandanas and replica championship belts.
Beyond the host himself, you never know who else might show up on a Monday night. Wrestling icon Ric Flair, who lives in nearby Tampa, has been a guest in the past. Tonight, musician, composer and famed wrestling manager Jimmy Hart, “The Mouth of the South” himself, is sitting on the main stage.
Hart’s not the only surprise celebrity in the house, either.
During his opening spiel, Hogan glances to his right and he spots a massive figure.
“Is that trouble?” he asks. “That’s trouble, man. One of the greatest of all time. Mr. Clemens in the house.”
Roger Clemens, the seven-time Cy Young-winner and former Toronto Blue Jays pitcher, approaches the stage to greet Hogan. Wearing a white hoodie and matching baseball cap, the 61-year-old right-hander is still an overpowering physical presence — which isn’t lost on Hogan.
“You missed your calling,” the Hulkster tells Clemens. “You should have been a wrestler. Holy smokes.”
With the introductions done, the karaoke night can progress, and it’s full of wonderful vibes: Hogan breaks out Tina Turner’s famous swim move when a short woman in a colourful shirt sings a cover of “Proud Mary”; at another point, he buys the entire bar a round of milkshake shots; and he’s there with his phone to capture the moment when a man named Lorne sings a spirited “Sweet Caroline” from his wheelchair, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
As the night continues, Babor’s daughter, Payton, takes the microphone to sing “Dancing on My Own,” a tune originally sung by Swedish pop star Robyn. Babor is beaming, the epitome of a proud father. He runs to the corner of the stage and begins to record his daughter.
She’s clearly nervous at first and starts off singing quietly. However, things change when she notices her father, to her far left, standing with a giant smile and a phone in his hand. Babor senses the moment and turns to the crowd, yelling to encourage them.
The audience responds and Payton undergoes an energetic change. She seems to gain confidence and really gets into the song.
“And I’m right over here, why can’t you see me?
And I’m giving it my all,
But I’m not the [one] you’re taking home,
And I keep dancing on my own.”
As she reaches the final words, the crowd breaks into a standing ovation.
Babor and Hogan are watching, but it’s Hogan’s son who says what everybody’s thinking.
“Wow — holy smokes,” says Nick. “Thanks so much for joining us and for singing that.”