Bet on it: Handicapper John Murges isn’t letting Parkinson’s keep him down

John Murges

LAS VEGAS — At home last fall in Sarasota, Florida, a few fingers trembled as John Murges went 5-0 against the spread in the opening week of the Circa Sports NFL pick ’em contest.

“Shaky,” he says. “I thought it was just nerves from betting and putting out picks.”

The Chicago native and veteran sports bettor supplies selections to members of his handicapping service. At some point in 2022, Murges lost his sense of smell. Afternoon fatigue became commonplace.

Last year, college and professional football zapped him, right up to when he risked $2,500 on San Francisco in the Super Bowl. The Niners lost to Kansas City 25-22 in overtime in Las Vegas.

That poor pigskin run — during a long run in which he recorded stellar profits everywhere else — angered him, but there was something else.

“Something wrong that I could feel in my gut,” he says. “Felt like crap, so I went to my doctor for an annual check-up, which I’d skipped in ’22. He asked me a bunch of questions. First, ‘How’s your sense of smell?’

“I sucked at picking games and couldn’t smell, my two biggest issues. Well, a first sign that there’s something wrong, with Parkinson’s disease, is the loss of smell.”

A neurologist confirmed the Stage 1 Parkinson’s diagnosis.

“I was in shock. ‘Why me?’ Then, ‘This can’t be right,’ ” Murges says. “I had just turned 60 and knew [expletive] would go downhill. I realized I’d lived a hard life. I’m a 1980s guy, which tells you everything. Clubs. Drinking.”

Murges and wife Helen are helping daughter Ashley raise her two young sons, Maximus and Julius. John has shown sporting endeavors featuring Maximus in social-media video clips, but he hasn’t informed Maximus about his health.

“It’s best that comes from his mom first,” Murges says. “At 6, he wouldn’t understand, although he does understand point spreads. You can quote me on that.”

Positive mindset

There were tears, but only when Murges drove home from that first appointment. As he greeted Helen, his peepers were dry.

He clammed up. At least, he figured, until seeing a specialist. He shut down on social media, didn’t return text messages from veteran Vegas oddsman Dave Sharapan or Sean Alvarez.

Alvarez, a Vegas bettor and WagerTalk handicapper, and Murges are tight. Alvarez knew something was up when he’d ring Murges but his phone had been turned off.

“I knew he was going through something, as I can relate with my own anxiety [issues],” Alvarez says. “John is the type of guy who just wants to be there for everyone else, but he does not want people to be there for him.”

After maybe three weeks, Murges says, he first revealed all to Alvarez, who heard fear in the voice of his typically upbeat pal. Alvarez was stumped how to respond, so he reinforced Murges’s support system.

“It took a bit for John to realize that Helen, Maximus, myself, younger brother Dean [in Florida] and others are here for support,” Alvarez says. “We love his support, but we also support him.

“From what I see, getting back into his routine of taking Max to school and going over bets with friends has gotten him back into a positive mindset.”

10-year plan

Helen’s first reaction was to seek a second opinion, which confirmed the initial diagnosis. But it led to disappointment when they learned of an insurance issue with the groundbreaking Neuroscience Institute at Tampa General Hospital.

After Helen underwent a heart procedure last fall, she lost her job, which came with insurance that TGH would have accepted. They scrambled for a policy that TGH, unfortunately, does not accept.

“Tampa General has a neuroscience program that specializes in Parkinson’s,” John says. “It’s doing great work. That medication alone is $5,800 a month. New stuff, and they can almost reverse it. But I don’t want this to be a feel-bad story.”

I mention Dick Vitale, the famous ESPN college hoops broadcaster who lives in the area, to Murges. They’ve never met, but Murges is aware of Vitale’s vast philanthropic assists and interests.

Murges shows me a photo of a prominent statue of Vitale — a basketball in his right paw, his left around a child — at the Sarasota-Manatee Boys and Girls Club, where Maximus plays hoops.

He isn’t against mentioning Vitale, who might have an idea, some connection or pathway into TGH. But Murges insists he is in a solid mental place no matter what lies ahead.

Zero self-pity

Over the last several months, Murges has shed 33 pounds to get down to 197, near his playing weight during his half-cup of coffee on the UIC baseball team.

He has eliminated processed foods and sugar from his diet, and his daily pill regimen consists of five medications and a dozen vitamin supplements, plus a drop of nascent iodine under his tongue.

Murges either walks 3 or 4 miles or bikes 7 miles daily, and he and Helen will incorporate the 5-mile-roundtrip John Ringling Causeway into their itinerary.

He most often drinks water or green tea. He will sneak in a rare Jack Daniels and ginger ale, or two. His second specialist has told him, “Hey, you might be OK for five, maybe 10 years.”

“I will live my life,” Murges says. “I don’t feel sorry for myself. Not that many weeks have passed, but I’m no longer stuck in the mud, so to speak.”

He admits to doing “a complete 180” from that very first diagnosis.

“It’s like sports betting,” Murges says. “You’ll have your ups and downs, but we’re talking about life. When it comes to that, I’m not afraid to die.

“But great strides have been made in treating Parkinson’s, and from what I’ve learned, staying active is extremely important. I know I can stave this off. I’ll live day by day, see where I am in 10 years.”

Great medicine

In June, Murges will visit Las Vegas for a week and explore working for a sportsbook. Even if it’s for $17 an hour writing tickets, as Sharapan has described, Murges wants to log a year or two of “legitimate work” in the industry.

Regular readers might remember Murges, who in January 2022 detailed in this column his teens and 20s making book, collecting and delivering cash, for the Outfit in Chicago.

“I’ve never been arrested or convicted of a felony,” he says. “I was REAL lucky. That article might be on Google for 100 years, and I love it. It was my life. But I want my grandsons to see that I worked in the business legitimately.”

Murges says 60,000 people are diagnosed annually with Parkinson’s, and he aims to shine as a positive role model for anyone who might feel alone, hopeless or bogged down.

“If this can help one person, ‘Hey, this guy’s got it and look what he’s doing, picking games and doing things,’ then that’s my mission,” he says. “Keeping the faith.”

The support and the many encouraging calls and notes he has received from family and so many friends nearly makes Murges weep for the second time this calendar year.

“Without that, this would be much tougher to handle,” he says. “Amazing. Unbelievable. That in itself has been great medicine.”