Portion

The image is iconic — Kobe Bryant letting out a roar while tugging on his gold Lakers jersey after scoring 49 points during a playoff win over the Denver Nuggets on April 23, 2008.

It has been used in numerous murals around Southern California, including one that is being painted in larger-than-life form on the side of a future Eat Fantastic restaurant on the 700 block of North Pacific Coast Highway in Redondo Beach.

This particular painting, however, is a little different from the others, and from the original image itself. Bryant’s intensity is still there. His pose is exactly the same. He is still wearing a No. 24 jersey.

But in this version, that jersey is not gold with “Lakers” spelled across the chest in purple letters.

It’s white, with “Dodgers” across the chest in blue letters.

Gustavo Zermeño Jr. altered an iconic image of Lakers legend Kobe Bryant for a Dodgers mural he is painting in Redondo Beach.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

The altered version of the iconic image is just one portion of a sprawling mural paying tribute to the Dodgers’ 2024 World Series championship. It’s on the north-facing side of a former Carl’s Jr. building that will open later this year as part of the growing Eat Fantastic chain in the Los Angeles area.

The mural was conceived by artist Gustavo Zermeño Jr. and Eat Fantastic owner Efthemios Alexander Tsiboukas. It features some of the key figures from the Dodgers’ title run — players Mookie Betts, Freddie Freeman, Shohei Ohtani (with his beloved dog Decoy) and rapper Ice Cube, who is shown riding in a classic Dodger blue convertible as he did when he performed before Game 3 of the World Series.

And then there’s the late Lakers legend Bryant, whose inclusion in the piece was a must, Zermeño said.

“Each [Eat Fantastic] location has a Kobe mural, at least the ones that have a good wall,” said Zermeño, who is a huge fan of both the Dodgers and Bryant. “And for this location, [Tsiboukas] wanted to create something for the Dodgers’ championship team. That’s why Kobe has the Dodger jersey on, you know, staying on theme with the locations having a Kobe mural.”

Zermeño said the original idea was to paint Bryant wearing a Dodgers baseball jersey, as he did while attending the team’s games over the years before his shocking death in January 2020.

Lakers’ Kobe Bryant celebrates a three–pointer against the Denver Nuggets on April 23, 2008, at Staples Center.

(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)

“So we looked up a bunch of images,” Zermeño said. “A lot of them are obviously cool images, but either they were very pixelated, or just didn’t have what we wanted, that really aggressive Mamba-mentality feel.

“So we found this image. And you know, this image has been done before in several murals. But with the Dodger jersey, we wanted to throw a twist on it.”

Tsiboukas said: “That’s my favorite picture of him. I have the exact same one [painted at the restaurant location] in Arcadia. He’s wearing the real jersey, though, the yellow one. So I wanted a replica of that same one I did in Arcadia, and do it in a Dodger jersey, because of the Dodger dynasty right now.”

The purple and gold may have been removed from the jersey, but Zermeño said he purposefully incorporated them into the sunset depicted behind Bryant as a nod to the Lakers.

Zermeño started working on the mural Aug. 7 and expects to have it completed next week, ahead of Bryant’s Aug. 23 birthday. The portion featuring Bryant is already done — and it has garnered mixed reactions.

“For the most part, I’ve gotten a pretty positive reaction over it,” Zermeño said. “You know, a lot of Laker fans are also Dodger fans, so I think that overlap is pretty consistent throughout L.A. But yeah, man, you’re always going to have some haters. I think a lot of it is more like playful taunting. …

“A couple of people driving by — I think they’re just trying to be funny, making a joke, like yelling ‘He didn’t play for the Dodgers!’ or like, ‘He was a Laker!’ And then some people are just curious why I made that change. I think the people that are curious are older, some of the older crowd that, I guess, doesn’t understand why I would switch it, you know?”

Tsiboukas said he has seen a lot of online discussion about it, including on the popular kobemural Instagram page.

“Maybe 70% love it, and 30% are like, ‘That looks like a Clipper jersey,’” Tsiboukas said. “It’s causing a lot of friction back and forth, but it’s good topic. It’s raising awareness. It’s keeping Kobe’s legacy alive.”

Gustavo Zermeño Jr. hand paints part of Mookie Betts’ mouth onto his Dodgers mural outside the future Eat Fantastic restaurant in Redondo Beach.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

Dodgers star Shohei Ohtani and his dog Decoy, holding a Dodger Dog toy in his mouth, are depicted in a new mural by Gustavo Zermeño Jr.

(Chuck Schilken / Los Angeles Times)

Zermeño said he doesn’t mind the discourse over his artwork.

“It just, it sparks that conversation,” he said. “So regardless of whether people like it or not, I think it kind of breaks the ice for people to come up and ask questions and learn more about why we created it, and the process of putting it together. …

“It’s art, you know, and art’s meant to kind of create some type of conversation. And if we were to put him with a regular jersey, people would have been like, ‘Oh, that’s cool, but it’s been done X amount of times,’ you know? I’ve seen that photo in at least five different murals. So, yeah, I think switching it up definitely — I don’t want to say it elevated the piece, but it definitely created more conversation than there would be if we just kept the original jersey.”

When Terry Bollea, more commonly known as Hulk Hogan, showed up in an evening slot at the 2024 Republican National Convention, reactions were mixed.

Then-candidate President Trump and his supporters, both in and outside the hall, were clearly delighted, especially when Hogan, in a signature move, ripped off his T-shirt to display a Trump/Vance tank. Others reacted with disgust, decrying the “cheap” theatrics of a stunt in which Trump courted fans of professional wrestling and Hogan tried to regain national relevance.

In either case, it was mutual benediction. Trump won by leveraging a popular culture that Hogan, who died Thursday at 71, played a significant role in shaping. From the popularity of scripted reality television to the celebration of “real Americans,” Hogan’s career catalyzed and mirrored the shifting zeitgeist.

Forty years ago, he began leveraging an in-your-face patriotism (complete with “Real American” as his theme song) and a naked demand for dominance to become a self-spun celebrity who helped turn pro wrestling from a niche form of entertainment into an international billion-dollar industry.

He created the template for reality-star brand management when Kim Kardashian was still in diapers; he amassed millions of devoted followers by speaking to them directly, and in all caps long before social media was invented. He was canceled (for racist language), only to be uncanceled after a successful apology tour.

He not only survived the release of a sex tape, he sued (with the help of billionaire Peter Thiel) the media site Gawker for publishing it and won, putting Gawker out of business and striking fear into the heart of the free press. He thwarted unions, starred in movies, had a restaurant chain and co-owned his own brand of beer.

Tap any portion of modern celebrity culture — good, bad and ugly — and there’s Hulk Hogan, all handle-bar mustache and “Let me tell you something, brother.” The take-no-prisoners combative style that made him stand out in the 1980s has become just as mainstream as professional wrestling.

Even those who would rather eat glass than watch pro wrestling know who he was; he was a pioneer of personality as profession.

Six foot eight and built like a tank, Terry Bollea became a professional wrestler in 1977 and cultivated the kind of self-aggrandizing personality that had made Gorgeous George (George Raymond Wagner) a star decades earlier. But Hulk Hogan cast himself as a hero, unleashed to lay the bad guys flat. He spoke directly to his audience, including children, and soon gained national, and then international, fame, for himself and the World Wrestling Federation.

Hulk Hogan cast himself as a hero, helping to popularize pro wrestling and the World Wrestling Federation, which would later become World Wrestling Entertainment.

(Universal History Archive/ Universal Archive / Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

So much so that, in 1993, the World Wildlife Fund sued the organization over its initials, forcing it to change its name to World Wrestling Entertainment — WWE. The name change made perfect sense — pro wrestling has always been more about entertainment than sport. Yes, the participants are super-fit and strong and their bodies endure all manner of injury, but their brawls are not true competitions.

The matches are carefully choreographed, with winners chosen beforehand (though the outcomes are kept from the audience). With its reliance on over-the-top personas categorized as “faces” (good guys) and “heels” (villains), pro wrestling, like many modern reality programs, was all about audience preference.

In many ways, Hulk Hogan was the first reality TV star, a champion not because he was a better wrestler (or at least not in the nonprofessional sense) but because he was a better performer, pushing back against the rise of the new, gentler, feminist man of the 1980s with his physicality and bravado.

Not that he was above modifying his persona for increased popularity — in his early years, he was a “face” before becoming a “heel,” a growling villain renamed Hollywood Hogan. “I did it to upset the fans,” he told The Times in 2019. “But it didn’t really work. They still loved me.”

By the late 1980s, “Hulkamania” was everywhere, feeding off Hogan’s signature colors (yellow and red), moves (the leg-drop) and catchphrases (“Whatcha gonna do when the Hulkamania runs wild on you, brother?”). Not even an admission that he used steroids, after years of claiming otherwise, derailed his popularity.

Everyone wanted a piece of him, and Hogan began showing up in film and television. In 1982, he played Thunderlips, a version of himself, in “Rocky III,” taking on Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky Balboa in an exhibition match.

Hogan would also show up on the small screen in “The Love Boat,” “The A-Team,” “The All New Mickey Mouse Club” and, more recently, “The Goldbergs”; he made some terrible movies, including “Suburban Commando” and “Mr. Nanny,” did voice-work for video games and appeared, of course, in countless WWE productions. He set the stage for other pro wrestlers to become actors, including the Rock, John Cena and Dave Bautista.

In 2005, he went full-bore reality, starring in “Hogan Knows Best” which focused on his family life with wife Linda, son Nick and daughter Brooke. (Hogan agreed in part to support Brooke’s burgeoning singing career.) As with many celebrity family-based series, it ended after four seasons, when actual reality, including the couple’s divorce and Nick’s involvement in a car crash for which he was charged with reckless driving (and later sentenced to prison), made it impossible to continue.

Despite his many wrestling titles and iconic matches, Hogan’s most famous battle occurred in a courtroom. In 2012, Gawker published portions of a sex tape in which he appeared. Hogan sued. Or rather Terry Bollea sued (with the financial support of Thiel, who had his own ax to grind with Gawker for outing him years earlier). He claimed that while Hulk Hogan was a public figure who often spoke of his sexual prowess, Bollea was not, and therefore publishing the tape, which had been made without his consent, violated his privacy.

In 2016, the jury found for Bollea and awarded him $115 million; Gawker folded a few months later and Hogan found himself in the middle of a debate about the 1st Amendment and the decreasing popularity, and profitability, of the press.

More damaging, however, were leaked portions of that tape in which Hogan used racist slurs, including the N-word, when discussing his daughter’s boyfriend. In 2015, the WWE terminated Hogan’s contract and removed all mention of him from his website. Hogan’s subsequent apology tour led to him being reinstated in 2018.

These were not the only scandals in which Hogan was involved — in the late 1980s, he was instrumental in preventing an attempt by other wrestlers to unionize; his divorce from Linda was messy, and he and his daughter were estranged for years. His appearance at the RNC convention last year divided his fans. In January, he was booed by members of the crowd gathered for the Los Angeles premiere of Netflix’s “WWE Raw,” which many, including Hogan, saw as a condemnation of his support for Trump.

Not that he seemed too concerned. In a culture where hate-watching is courted and toxic conversation applauded, the only real enemy is silence. As Hulk Hogan taught us, for better and worse, a face is as good as a heel and a boo is as good as a cheer, just as long as the crowd continues to make some noise.