|
Mark Nordman is not Jack Niggemyer. Really. No matter how many people think so. Mark Nordman was not separated at birth from Jack Niggemyer. Really. No matter how many people confuse them. "It happens every day," said Nordman. Nordman is race marshal of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Niggemyer is race manager of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Nordman supervises the mushers, Niggemyer supervises the trail. Yet people call Mark "Jack" and people call Jack "Mark." "We're both big, hairy guys," said Niggemyer. They both do have dark hair and dark beards, and they are both stocky men who wear baseball caps. Still, there is much evidence to indicate that Mark Nordman and Jack Niggemyer are not the same person. Nordman wears glasses, and Niggemyer doesn't. Nordman is shorter. Niggemyer has broader shoulders, and his hair is tied off in a pony tail. Yet there must be something to this ongoing case of mistaken identity. Once, on a visit to see Nordman in Minnesota, people called Niggemyer "Mark." "I'd never been there before," said Niggemyer. And years ago, when Niggemyer's son Cody was 2, he was planted in front of the TV set for an Iditarod show and Nordman walked across the screen. Cody yelled, "Daddy!" Maybe this all occurs because they are rarely seen together. Nordman spends most of his time in Minnesota. The race marshal of the famous 1,100-mile mush from Anchorage to Nome - who has critical say over rule judgments and mushers' fates - doesn't live in Alaska. Whereas Niggemyer, of Sutton, is visible year-round in Alaska, at Iditarod Trail headquarters, helping coach his children's sports teams and as a vocal fan of the Mat-Su Miners baseball club. Nordman hangs out in Grand Marais, Minn., a community of 1,200 not far from the Canadian border. Nordman, 46, is one of those guys who classifies as an honorary Alaskan, even if he can't collect a Permanent Fund dividend check. He has raced the Iditarod five times, dating back to 1983, with a best finish of 32nd in 1993. And this is his fifth year as race marshal, in two stints. He also sells plastic sled runners and distributes aluminum runners. He uses his 55 dogs to race in Minnesota mushing events and manages and organizes others, including the Grand Portage Passage. And even though his obligations tend more toward the administrative side of the sport, he has a grand plan for next winter. "I want to run the Yukon Quest next year," he said. You can't have too many 1,000-mile races under your belt. There is even more on Nordman's plate. He has a wife, Sue, and two daughters, Andrea, 23, and Carah, 16, and from April to November he works as a fisheries technician for the state of Minnesota. He also returns to Alaska every few months for Iditarod Trail Committee board meetings. Over the years, since his first race appearance in the Knik 120 in 1976, Nordman has driven the Alaska Highway 11 times with dogs. Nordman is a straight shooter in a sensitive position. He rides herd on the judges dispersed along the trail, and if there are protests or rules infractions, he may have to disqualify a musher. But he'd rather think of himself as the best buddy to the mushers in the 28th annual race. Completing his first Iditarod 17 years ago changed Nordman. He said negotiating the Alaskan wilderness alone over 18-plus days gave him more confidence. "It's an accomplishment to get one team to Nome, and now I try to get 81 there," said Nordman before the race began and anyone scratched. "The most fun I have is when the majority of the teams finish." Nordman knows the trail - perhaps too intimately. Once, as his dogs approached Rohn, a gang line came loose and held together by a single carabiner. Nordman wasn't linked to the sled by much more. "I went body surfing a good half mile," said Nordman, who was left a bruised mess. As race marshal, Nordman travels the trail in the plane put at his disposal. He leapfrogs back-and-forth. Although stopping for the night in Anchorage, McGrath, Unalakleet or Nome, he rarely sleeps during the race. "I power nap a lot," said Nordman. "If there are no teams around, I'll nod off." Or if Niggemyer isn't around to talk over developments. "He's one of my best friends in the whole world," said Niggemyer. "We work so well together." Jack Nordman and Mark Niggemyer, the Iditarod twins. * This column is the opinion of Daily News sports editor. He can be reached at lfreedman@adn.com
|
