Wally Hall's bowl diary: It's a family affair for Nutts

WALLY HALL
ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE

LAS VEGAS -- In the old days (a quarter of a century ago) you could be in one of the larger casinos and hear, "Telephone call for Mr. Dean Martin."
Of course, polyester would be straining and heads craning in hopes of catching a glimpse of the charter member of the Rat Pack.
It was probably all a guise for people like me, who always strained and craned to see them. Perhaps the casinos wanted us to think guys like Frank Sinatra or Martin were actually staying in that hotel and gambling in that casino.
Monday, we moved out of the team hotel and into the press hotel, the MGM.
The team will move to an undisclosed location today to get away from the festivities and the Vegas vibrancy (Now there's a tip. They are moving to a hotel with no casino, and that really does narrow it down out here).
The Golden Nugget, the team hotel, is a nice enough, remodeled older property downtown.
The MGM is a city.
It has shopping, a food court with real fast food and 15 sit-down restaurants that range from the Brown Derby to a Rain Forest Cafe.
Plus, a Grand buffet with all the prime rib and peeled shrimp you can eat for $13.95, plus tax ($14.96).
We, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette staff, have had to use our cell phones to find each other because the casino and its trappings are huge.
So there I was, walking from the sportsbook (where you never, ever have your cell phone turned on) to the elevators when I see someone who looks very familiar.
Obviously, that could happen dozens of times a day here, especially if you know a lot of oriental people.
Incidentally, if you want to know just how important they are to this city, when the MGM first opened, its entrance was through the mouth of a lion.
To some oriental people, that was considered bad luck. The entrance was sealed and is now a series of fountains.
Anyway, I got closer and I thought "that looks just like Beverly Edens," who runs the Arkansas State basketball office.
But I thought "there's no way." The Indians are playing tonight, and she doesn't miss games.
The resemblance was uncanny, and this lady was even wearing a red warm-up suit that said Arkansas State.
That stopped me in my tracks. Then I saw Cathy Nutt, Dickey's wife; Dianna Nutt, Houston's wife, and her mom.
The players were next door at Game Works, and the women decided a little shopping was in order so they were cutting through the casino to the shops.
However, it did seem a little explanation was in order, and Cathy was more than willing to do that.
They were invited to the bowl as long as Cathy brought her kids, two boys and a girl.
That way, Houston III and his three sisters had more than just friends along, they had cousins.
Throw in Danny's four daughters, and there are 11 Nutt grandchildren on this bowl trip, which was probably part of the reason Houston Sr. and Emogene were due to fly in Tuesday afternoon.
Now you can bet your grandma's biscuit recipe the only way you will see them in a casino is if they have to go through one to get someplace.
About an hour later, I ran into Cathy and Beverly again. This time they were perched on stools at slot machines and winning.
They cashed in, offered to buy coffee, and then treated me to 30 minutes of how guilty they felt about being here with the Indians about to tip off.
"Dickey insisted I come, and I insisted Beverly come with me," Cathy said.
It was the first time either had missed a home game since Dickey became the head coach.
When they factored in the time difference and realized it was only 15 minutes to tipoff, they came up with a plan.
They wouldn't play the slots until the game was over, and they would call every 15 minutes to get a score.
It was a good plan, but only they know if it worked out.

This article was published on Wednesday, December 20, 2000

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