If you grew up watching wrestling in the 90s, you knew the pink and black. You knew the Sharpshooter. You knew that if a wrestler came out of Calgary, Alberta, they were probably going to be the most technically sound person on the card. That’s the shadow the Hart family wrestling dynasty cast over the industry for better than fifty years. Honestly, it's hard to find another family that has given so much to a sport while losing just as much in return.
Stu Hart was the patriarch. He was a shooter, a guy who could actually wrestle for real, and he started Stampede Wrestling in 1948. He and his wife, Helen, raised twelve children in a massive, sprawling mansion that looked more like a haunted hospital than a family home. Basically, every single one of those twelve kids ended up in the business somehow. The boys wrestled; the girls married wrestlers. It was a closed circuit.
But when people talk about the "Hart family," they aren't usually thinking about the regional shows in Saskatoon. They're thinking about the "Dungeon," the tragic death of Owen, and the night Bret Hart got screwed in Montreal.
The Dungeon: More Than Just a Basement
You can't talk about the Harts without talking about the Dungeon. It was a basement. It was dark, it was cramped, and it smelled like decades of sweat and liniment. Stu Hart didn't just teach you how to "work" a match; he taught you how to survive one.
He was known for "stretching" people. He’d get them in a submission hold and just… keep it there until they screamed. Sometimes he’d keep it there after they screamed. It sounds like something out of a horror movie, but for guys like Edge, Christian, and Chris Jericho, it was a rite of passage.
- Nikolai Volkoff was one of the first big names through.
- "Superstar" Billy Graham learned the ropes there before he revolutionized the "look" of a pro wrestler.
- Brian Pillman was basically an honorary Hart after his time in the basement.
Bret Hart once said he used to hear the screams of his father’s students echoing through the floorboards while he was upstairs eating dinner. It was a brutal way to learn a trade. But it worked. It created a generation of wrestlers who actually knew how to grapple, not just throw fake punches.
🔗 Read more: When is Georgia's next game: The 2026 Bulldog schedule and what to expect
The Rise of the Excellence of Execution
Bret "The Hitman" Hart is the crown jewel. He wasn't the biggest guy. He wasn't the loudest on the mic. But he called himself the "Excellence of Execution," and he wasn't lying. While Hulk Hogan was doing leg drops and eating vitamins, Bret was putting on twenty-minute technical clinics.
He started in the tag team ranks with Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart, his brother-in-law. They were the Hart Foundation. It was the perfect pairing: Bret had the technique, Jim had the power and the crazy laugh.
When Bret went solo, he changed the game. He proved that a "smaller" guy could be the world champion. He won the WWF World Heavyweight Championship five times. He was a hero in Canada and a massive star in Europe, even when American fans were starting to lean toward the "Attitude Era" chaos.
The Montreal Screwjob
Then 1997 happened. If you want to see where the Hart family’s relationship with the WWE (then WWF) shattered, look at Survivor Series in Montreal. Bret was leaving for WCW. He didn't want to lose his title in Canada. Vince McMahon, terrified Bret would take the belt to his rival, ordered the referee to ring the bell while Bret was in a Sharpshooter—even though he hadn't tapped out.
It was real. It wasn't "kayfabe." Bret punched Vince in the locker room afterward, and the Hart family was effectively persona non grata in the WWE for years.
💡 You might also like: Vince Carter Meme I Got One More: The Story Behind the Internet's Favorite Comeback
Owen Hart: The Heart of the Family
While Bret was the serious one, Owen was the prankster. Everyone loved Owen. He was arguably a better pure athlete than Bret, and their match at WrestleMania X is still considered one of the greatest opening matches in history.
But you can't talk about Owen without talking about May 23, 1999.
He was performing as "The Blue Blazer," a superhero character. He was supposed to descend from the rafters on a harness. The release mechanism triggered early. Owen fell nearly 80 feet and died in front of a live audience. The show went on, which remains one of the most controversial decisions in sports entertainment history.
The fallout was devastating. Martha Hart, Owen's widow, sued the WWE and won an $18 million settlement in 2000. It also fractured the family. Some Harts wanted to stay in the WWE’s good graces for work; others, like Bret, stood by Martha. They didn't talk for a long time. Some still don't.
The Next Generation and the Legacy Today
Is the Hart family wrestling legacy dead? Not quite.
📖 Related: Finding the Best Texas Longhorns iPhone Wallpaper Without the Low-Res Junk
Natalya Neidhart, Jim’s daughter, has been a staple of the WWE women’s division for over a decade. She’s the veteran now. She’s the one training the new girls. Then you have Davey Boy Smith Jr. (Harry Smith), who has carried his father’s British Bulldog legacy across Japan and the indies.
Even Bret’s kids, like Blade Hart, are still involved in the "Dungeon Wrestling" scene in Calgary. It’s a different world now. The mansion was sold years ago. The Dungeon is a gym for others. But the "Hart style"—that believable, gritty, technical wrestling—is everywhere. You see it in AEW, you see it in the WWE, and you see it in the way modern wrestlers prioritize safety because of what happened to Owen.
What You Can Take From the Hart Story
If you’re a fan or even a casual observer, the Hart story is a lesson in two things: technical mastery and family resilience.
- Watch the Tape: Go back and watch Bret vs. Owen at WrestleMania X. It's a masterclass in storytelling.
- Support the Foundation: The Owen Hart Foundation does incredible charity work. It's the best way to honor his memory without focusing on the tragedy.
- Appreciate the Work: When you see a wrestler today do a perfect snap suplex or a Sharpshooter, know that it likely trace back to a basement in Calgary.
The Harts weren't perfect. They were messy, they fought, and they suffered more than most. But in the ring? They were the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.