Best Of :: Sports & Recreation
The impetus behind the raucous run by Dirk Nowitzki and the Dallas Mavericks last spring? Um, turns out there was a girl in the boys' room. But not that kind. This kind: Throughout the playoffs Dr. Collings laid her healing hands upon Dirk's aching back in a crack-ya-bones sorta chiropractic way. But Collings, a '93 graduate of Dallas' Parker College and founder of Las Colinas Spine & Sports Medicine, didn't just work her magic on Dirk. Last year alone she treated the Stars' Steve Ott and Jason Arnott, Cowboys punter Matt McBriar, ESPN's Darren Woodson, PGA player Brandt Jobe, actor Chuck Norris, singer Alanis Morissette and even the Highland Park High School "Belles" drill team. During the Mavs' playoff push and into the NBA Finals, Nowitzki was a weekly visitor to Collings' Las Colinas office. Said Collings, "It was rewarding to have a small hand in his success." Just to prove she also possesses talented feet, next month Collings will run a marathon in Washington, D.C.
Placing his first wager at 15 and his most recent one likely before you finish this sentence, Norm Hitzges knows there is no such thing as a sure winner. He can, however, spot a certain loser.
Thats why, despite everything in his prodigious nose and Polish values telling him no, he finally said yes to The Ticket (KTCK-1310 AM).
When I was at KLIF, The Ticket annoyed the hell out of me, says Hitzges, who grudgingly made the intra-company radio move in 2000. I did not want to come downstairs.
Betting on the lesser of two evils, however, was a five-star no-brainer. Joining the shtick-filled, 13th-floor station that delighted in mocking his numerous idiosyncrasies was, in the wake of KLIFs decision to dump sports, a more appealing alternative than sitting silent six months because of a non-compete clause in his contract.
I wanted to explore my options, Hitzges recalls. But it was made very clear to me that if I did that Id have a legal problem.
Six years later, chalk up another winner onto Norms gambling ledger.
Americas first full-time sports-talk radio host at a time when P1s and sound drops were just a twinkle in some program directors vas deferens, Hitzges is these days more prominent, powerful and popular than ever. He raises money for the Austin Street homeless shelter, vacations in the Galapagos Islands and can walk into any bar this side of Cheers and be serenaded with Norm!
Listen carefully; the 63-year-old has even befriended his 13-year-old enemies.
I hear some stuff on The Ticket and think to myself, My Lord, Id never put that on my show, Hitzges says. My tolerance has softened, but I also finally realized these guys have a work ethic as diligent as mine. They just work on different things. Far different things.
Norms ultimate acceptance of radios dark side was made easier after decades living nefariously through sports gambling. For the last 30 years Hitzges on-air Picks of the Polewhich debuted on KERA radio in 75 as an alternative to Jimmy the Greekhave both revved his adrenaline and caused civil war between the little Norms on his opposing shoulders.
As a Christian, Ive been in a moral wrestling match since the day I started, Hitzges says. I understand people listen to me, take my picks and go gamble. But I dont like that.
Seems a strange sentimenthypocritical evencoming from a gambling guru who gives out his weekly selections for free on the radio and at his Web site (normhitzges.com) but charges $30 a month to join a Clubhouse that offers detailed analysis of games and consensus picks gleaned from his network of handicappers. But Hitzges has evolved into a legendary personality grandfathered above accusation, evidenced by pro teams coaches and owners appearing on his 10 a.m. to noon show and tempting league rules by tiptoeing around the fuzzy line between being interviewed by a radio icon and associating with a known gambler.
The business of analyzing sports may be populated with thieves at a higher percentage than any other business, Hitzges explains. I call them scamdicappers. If youre going to bet, Id rather you get real information and real research. Thats what I provide.
To understand Hitzges seemingly twisted rationale, realize that gambling was always woven into the fabric of his family. When his father passed away in 99, Hitzges went to New Yorks Saratoga Springs Race Track. Later, at the funeral, he placed the un-redeemed winning tickets inside Dads jacket.
When he got to where he was going, Hitzges says, I wanted to make sure he had a ticket to cash.
Hitzges says he has never been a bookie, doesnt have an online gambling account and makes his occasional bets through a liaison. While admitting a negative lifetime balanceIm down, without question, he sayshes kept his habit from deteriorating into an addiction.
There are times when Ive said, Wait a minute, youre betting eight games. This is crazy, says Hitzges, whose biggest payday was a $17,000 cash take-home from Lone Star Park in 2001. But this is my hobby. Some people drink $200 bottles of wine. I analyze sports.
A far cry from going 22-1 in the 2003 NFL Playoffs or 19-8 during last years college bowl season, Hitzges picks were 48-53 through September 17, including a horrific 8-23 week that spawned a tense on-air exchange climaxed by Ticket personality Gordon Keith offering to make better picks flipping a coin.
I work on my picks, but sometimes my work is wrong. Brutally wrong, Hitzges says. Im not picking games out of a hat or reading tea leaves. In 30 years Ive had only five losing seasons, so I must be doing something right.
Through excruciating gambling defeats, a hip replacement and surgery to remove a spinal tumor thats left him with minimal nerve sensation below the knee in his right leg, what Norm hasnt lost is his passion for radio and wagering. Gambling is why Hitzges studied trends while in intensive care and once phoned in picks from Peru. Radio is why Hitzges says to bet against him retiring anytime soon.
Strange as it is to have my identity tied to a microphone, I dont know what in the world Id do, he says. I guess Id play golf and fish and pick some games, but I do all that now. I am what I am.
That, you can take to the bank. Richie Whitt
Hard to argue against Avery Johnson pushing the Mavericks to the brink of the NBA Championship or McKinney's Hank Haney re-sculpting a swing that allowed Tiger Woods to win four straight tournaments over the summer, but here goes. Over the last four years Southlake Carroll High School's football team has two mythical National Championships, a 63-1 record, a 32-game winning streak and Todd Dodge as its head coach. While we're being brainwashed by Bill Parcells' mind games and monotone game plans, Dodge is suddenly the most creative and productive offensive football mind this side of Texas Tech's Mike Leach. Since arriving in Southlake in 2000, Dodge is 82-11, and his Dragons have won three of the last four state championships, the only loss by one point in the '03 title game. Last year's team set a Texas Class 5A record with 764 points. This year's edition should again be fun to watch and impossible to beat. Argument over, we win.
Quick, name another Dallas Stars player. Didn't think so. Ol' Mo retains his title because he's still a serviceable player and still the face of the increasingly anonymous franchise. Last year Modano was 33rd in scoring in the NHL, a fact we placed right behind Keith Richards falling out of a coconut tree in Fiji on the "Hmm, that's interesting" scale. But, of course, we're too busy scarfing down marijuana muffins at lunch to be bothered by hockey, so screw us. Modano ain't perfect either. He was the prima donna that whined about the inferior amenities during the Winter Olympics and was a non-factor as the Stars were wiped out of the playoffs in the first round. But Jussi Jokinen can score all the shootout goals he wants, and Marty Turco can fall on his face at a time when goalies need to stand on their head; Modano remains. Without him, hockey in this town might already be a memory. And Primo's might go out of business.
If you're an aspiring boxer hell-bent on blood, sweat and tears, get your ass down to old-school Doug's Gym on Commerce Street. For the rest of us--ahhhh--to the paradise with the palm trees. The new Life Time Fitness on Highway 121 in Allen is like a five-star resort, complete with more than enough amenities to serve us peculiar, pampered types who want the oxymoronic experience of working out in total comfort. Ya know: no pain, no pain. There are indoor and outdoor pools. A caf with a full-service bar. A spa resplendent in cosmetic services. Courts for basketball, racquetball and squash. Locker rooms with free towels and big-screen TVs. A computer center. Financial services. Even a rock-climbing wall and water slides for the kids. Oh yeah, and they got some weights up in there too. All that for like $100 a month. So we ask you, why not just live here?
Some of us around here are of the less-Christian persuasion, and we belong to the JCC; kinda have to, though not as much as you did only a few years back. We can tell that from the rather empty addition that recently opened at the JCC--the sprawling new sports facility that includes two indoor pools (one heated for the very young and very old, one built for the more lap-swimming-inclined), a great indoor track and all the high-tech workout amenities you need to keep pace with the hipper gyms these days. Technically, the place is called the "Medical City Natatorium and Fitness Complex at the J," since Medical City was partner in the place, and you'd think with that powerhouse behind it, the complex would be packed. Not so much. We have our theories: Goyim think you need to be Jewish to belong, or they just don't know about the place, since it's being marketed as well as bacon and cheese sandwiches at a Chabad House. Really, people: Sure, it's not quite the same as working out at Premier Club; fewer MILFs, more migrs, but still.