THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 25, 1996 TAG: 9602250279
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BOB MOLINARO
LENGTH: Medium: 64 lines
Forty-five minutes before post time, Doc Malloy picked up a microphone and began leading patrons through the ``How to Wager Guide.''
``Education in this game is essential,'' he would say later as the images of horses from Laurel and Freehold, Gulfstream and Rosecroft flickered across monitors at Colonial Downs' off-track-betting outlet on South Military Highway.
``It takes no brains to go to a casino,'' Malloy tells me. ``You put in some coins, pull a few levers. But with racing, you gotta know that if the filly runs with the boys and then back with the girls within 10 days, she usually prevails.''
Whatever. In any case, a how-to-sermon from a national tout will not be necessary to rev up business for Virginia's first OTB parlor.
Before Malloy launched into his daily seminar for a small group of neophyte handicappers, the Friday morning crowd was off and running, jockeying for position near one of the 200 television screens.
``We're 30 percent over projection,'' said Colonial Downs general manager Gil Short, who left his corner table in the back of the bar to survey the scene in the 15,000-square-foot facility.
``We're going to do about $700,000 to $800,000 gross for the week,'' he said. ``And our concessions have been unbelievable.''
One week out of the gate, the response to the OTB parlor is surprising for an area with no racing heritage.
``We've got a handful of heavy hitters,'' said Short.
But without significant contributions from the $2 bettor, the per capita wagering could not have reached a robust $105.
The biggest problems so far? Short smiles as he hears the question.
Too little room inside, he said. Too few parking places out front.
``We could have put this place in an alley somewhere,'' said Short, ``and people would still come, because it's a destination spot.''
By rough count, many more than half the men and women on hand by early Friday afternoon were smokers; people with addictive personalities.
My friend Harvey M. noticed this. He scanned the crowd and wondered if he'd be seeing some of these plungers in the Gamblers Anonymous meetings he runs out of Virginia Beach General Hospital.
``There's no question about it,'' said Harvey. ``The GA room will double in size within a year or two because of off-track betting.''
This uncomfortable thought can be easily dismissed in the friendly confines of a plush, roomy parlor, where handicappers are surrounded by genial, helpful staff like Doc Malloy.
Now 45 and a father of four, Malloy published his first tip sheet at the age of 12. He called it ``Boy Wonder.''
After hand-cranking copies from a mimeograph machine, he'd put on his Sunday best and work the parking lot at Bowie.
``I'd sell to women,'' he explained. ``They'd buy from the cute boy.''
Today, Malloy peddles his ``Doc's Pixx'' to a roomful of eager newcomers. Some, no doubt, are a little too eager for their own good.
``You know what they say,'' said Malloy, `` `Eat your bettin' money, don't bet your eatin' money.' ''
Harvey heard this and, looking around at the avid men and women lined up at the mutuel windows, offered his own twist.
``Bet small,'' he said, ``and you'll be around in the fall.'' by CNB