Hitman Quotes

“My dad was a shooter, or submission wrestler, and he loved to stretch anyone who dared to show up at his door. I remember him stretching the daylights out of Father Roberts, the Catholic priest who baptized all the Hart kids. Father Roberts got closer to God in my father’s basement dungeon than he felt comfortable with. But Stu was non-denominational; he stretched a rabbi once too.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“Brisco and Slaughter tried to clear everyone out of the dressing room. Owen was about to leave when Davey grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t leave,” he said. “Remember what happened to Bruiser Brody.” None of my boys left.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“these past months have been hard on me and I’m quite confused—physically, mentally and emotionally drained. I feel like a wounded animal stuck with spears, staggering around aimlessly. . . . I keep going on like there is nothing wrong. Sooner or later I will break. I want to break, to let it go in an agonizing wail—but I just can’t seem to let it out.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“I was recognized as being an artist and a storyteller. If Hulk Hogan was the Elvis of wrestling, I was the Robert De Niro.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“On October 29, I drove to Fort Wayne, Indiana, with Kerry Von Erich, another of Fritz Von Erich’s sons. Kerry was a big, handsome, well-built kid with a kind streak a mile wide who wouldn’t think twice about giving you the shirt off his back. I loved how genuine and considerate he was, especially to the fans.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“My first thought was that I’d somehow let the whole country down. Shawn”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“In the midst of the riot, I noticed a young, blond American couple wearing Bermuda shorts and golf shirts, and holding hands, immobilized by the fights raging around them. The referee, a quiet little fellow called Hammer, was also fighting for his life, blindly swinging a steel chair, deflecting unidentified flying objects and attacking fans. He was backing his way toward the two Americans. My first instinct was to intervene, but they were more than thirty feet away, and I would never have made it. Hammer swung full force as he turned, smashing his chair over the blond man’s head. The man fell to the floor, his girl beside him, helpless and terrified. Now I understood why Bruce had stayed home. Back in the hotel room, Smith was sick too, and we took turns racing to the toilet and sweating on our grungy beds. My shoulder was killing me, and I couldn’t raise my arm. Tiny gnats landed on us incessantly; they seemed harmless enough, so we just rubbed them out. The street sounds filtered up, sirens wailed, and it turned out the little gnats weren’t so harmless after all: For weeks we were covered in festering boils. Smith and I took turns with a pair of tweezers plucking at the eruptions on our arms and chests, leaving big pink craters.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling

“Bruce, on the other hand, was sometimes too clever for his own good. He was a tremendous influence on me, teaching me all about sports, Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Johnny Unitas and Gordie Howe.”
― Bret Hart, Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling