Donald Trump and professional wrestling: A long and extravagant love story

When Donald Trump swapped God Bless the USA — the patriotic ballad he had championed for years at his campaign rallies — for the somber theme song of The Undertaker — the legendary wrestler known for his morbid person — one question loomed: what was the candidate trying to convey with this eerie music and the increasingly dark, vengeful tone of his speeches? As is often the case with Trump, the reason was deeply personal. He has long been enthralled with the extravagant world of professional wrestling, where The Undertaker is a revered as a legend.

This love story is also one of the unexpected factors behind Trump’s return to the White House four years later. Among his campaign’s key objectives was to woo young men, a decisive demographic in the Republican victory. To reach them, his team targeted the rings and cages — both real and virtual — of the two most popular wrestling franchises: the venerable WWE, and its modern, more brutal counterpart, UFC, a mixed martial arts discipline. These two brands merged last year to form TKO, a $21.4 billion entertainment powerhouse.

Trump’s connection to this blend of sport, theater, and testosterone is nothing new, but last week it reached a new peak with the surprising appointment of Linda McMahon, a former WWE executive, as Secretary of Education. The move was as unexpected as it was provocative — another instance that left observers wondering whether the president-elect was serious, enjoying a prank at the expense of a system he openly scorns, or genuinely convinced that the world of entertainment offers a credible talent pool for assembling the cabinet of the world’s leading power. His selections include two secretaries with Fox News backgrounds — Pete Hegseth (Defense) and Sean Duffy (Transportation) — a television doctor, Mehmet Oz, and a retired football player, Scott Turner.

The husband of the prospective Education Secretary, if confirmed by the Senate, is Vince McMahon, a longtime Trump ally. Their relationship dates back to the 1980s, when they collaborated in the world of professional wrestling. In 2007, the two joined forces for a high-profile stunt called Battle of the Billionaires, a spectacle in which each chose a wrestler to represent him in a match. The stakes? The loser would have his head shaved in the ring. Trump’s wrestler emerged victorious, and that’s how Trump came to shave McMahon’s head live in a ring in Detroit.

In 2022, McMahon stepped down as CEO of WWE amid allegations of sexual assault involving four women and an accusation of trafficking, which he denies. By early 2024, he also relinquished his honorary position at TKO, the entertainment giant formed by the WWE-UFC merger. Last week, Linda McMahon — who, alongside her husband, transformed the regional wrestling company they purchased from Vince’s father into a global enterprise — faced fresh controversy. A lawsuit accuses her of covering up child abuse committed by a trainer against aspiring sports stars in the 1980s.

The appointment of Linda McMahon — who previously served in Trump’s first Cabinet — came just three days after Trump made one of his first public appearances since winning the election. The occasion was a mixed martial arts event at Madison Square Garden, marking not only Trump’s return to the spotlight but also a showcase of his executive-in-training team, from Elon Musk to Robert F. Kennedy Jr. The event was held in the very venue where the Trump campaign held a decisive rally that was filled with so many misogynistic and racist comments, Washington thought that it might cost him the presidency.

In addition to the comedian who defined Puerto Rico as a “floating island of garbage,” the rally also featured Hulk Hogan — with his dyed blond mustache and his penchant for ripping off his shirt, perhaps the most popular fighter in history — and UFC CEO Dana White, widely credited with rebranding the sport from a raw blood spectacle into a mainstream phenomenon that thrived during the pandemic.

“The toughest guy”

On election night, Dana White — described by The New Yorker as the person who “perhaps more than anyone else, helped Trump mobilize young men to the polls” — spoke warmly of the president-elect. “I’m in the tough guy business,” White said, introducing Trump. “And this man is the toughest, most resilient human being I have ever met.” In a gesture of gratitude, Trump attended the UFC event White hosted last weekend at Madison Square Garden. White has since announced that he will step back from the “disgusting” realm of political influence.

Also at the Madison Square Garden event was Joe Rogan, the most influential podcast host in the United States — a figure to whom Trump owes a significant debt. The nearly three-hour interview Rogan conducted with Trump just 10 days before the election, along with his explicit endorsement on the eve of the vote, played a crucial role in mobilizing voters within the so-called manosphere. In this online ecosystem of hyper-masculine ideologies, Trump — a convicted criminal and author of such infamous remarks as “when you’re a star, they let you do it, you can do anything [...], grab them by the pussy” (2016) and “whether the women like it or not, I’m going to protect them” (2024) — is nothing short of an idol.

Trump’s communication strategy, targeting the most popular podcasts in this parallel universe of virile passions, was another one of the successes of his campaign. Also key was Barron Trump, his 18-year-old son with Melania, who suggested his father appear on these platforms to reach young men in his age group. Among the shows Trump visited, one stood out: the podcast hosted by The Undertaker.

The Undertaker — whose real name is Mark Calaway — rose to fame in the 1990s as one of the most understated (so to speak) figures of wrestling’s golden age. This mix of sport and carnival taps into two quintessentially American passions: a love of spectacle and an unabashedly childish sense of play. Trump’s hour-long conversation with Calaway was a strategic spectacle. It provided a platform to spread misinformation about the involvement of trans athletes in women’s boxing, and offered a chance for Trump to flaunt his wrestling knowledge.

Calaway later said he was “impressed” by Trump’s apparent mastery of wrestling lore — though, frankly, this should have surprised no one. After all, the president-elect is an honorary member of the WWE Hall of Fame and even chose Hulk Hogan as one of the marquee speakers at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee last July, where he accepted his party’s nomination.

After all, it has always been tempting to draw parallels between Trump’s singular career as a reality TV star who has twice ascended to the presidency and the spectacle of professional wrestling, which blurs the line between truth and fiction — a style made iconic by Hulk Hogan and The Undertaker. In the ring of alternative facts, Trump handles himself better than any other politician. Like the WWE’s choreographed chaos, his brand of politics unfolds in a theater without rules, leaving it to the audience to decide which parts of the performance to believe and which to dismiss.

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition