Do not pass "GO." Do not collect $200. Land on the "Free Parking" space and it's possible to rake in all the extra loot at the expense of other players' misfortune. Not much is different between the Parker Brothers classic game of Monopoly(R), established more than 70 years ago, and its Alaska Iditarod edition.
The Monopoly game is just a small contributing piece to the whole business pie of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. T-shirts, coffee mugs, key rings, hats, jewelry, other apparel, pins, calendars, books, toys, stuffed animals and school material also help provide revenue for The Last Great Race.
"Merchandise brings in about a million dollars annually," said Iditarod Executive Director Stan Hooley, from race headquarters in Wasilla. "Of course, we only net $320,000 of that amount."
And that is just the tip of the iceberg or the front of the sled.
Just as it takes a substantial bankroll to buy, sell and rent property in the board game, so, too, does it take a large amount of money to operate the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Unlike the popular board game, there's nothing fake or pretend about the cash flow in the world's longest sled dog race from Anchorage to Nome. The Parker Brothers version is a mere 19-inch square board compared to the 1,049 miles of frozen rivers and tundra that are traversed in early March.
"The budget for the race this year is $3.7 million," continued Hooley, who has held his position since 1993. "Then you can add another $1.1 million of in-kind donations and sponsorships. I can realistically see our budget doubling over the next 10 years."
This year, the race attracted an original field of 109 (21 have since dropped out). Now 88 hopefuls (14 women) will team with more than 1,300 canines running down Anchorage's Fourth Avenue in the ceremonial start to begin their trek toward the western coast and ultimately finish underneath the traditional and landmark burl arches in Nome. (Editor's Note: As of press time, if all 88 mushers who signed up for the event start the race, it will establish a record. However, the field may change by March 3, race day.)
Each musher pays an entry fee of $1,850. This year's purse is approximately $850,000. Iditarod officials will pay out $794,000 to the top 30 finishers.
Weather can also play a major role in cities and villages in how much they benefit from the race, which began in 1973.
"A study was conducted in 2003 to see how Anchorage was impacted by the Iditarod," Hooley said. "Just on race day alone, that single day, Anchorage stood to make $6.8 million in revenue. On race day last year, even though the race was re-started in Willow due to poor weather, Wasilla earned $2.1 million."
One business directly affected by the weather is the Iditacup. Owner Susan Curry and partner Ron Brunner opened the espresso coffee shop in 1999. The shop, which sells everything from pizza to sub sandwiches to a variety of sweet confections, operates year-round, including holidays, and is located on the trail, seven miles from the first check-point of Wasilla.
"We generally make close to $2,000 on race day," said Curry. "Last year, the race bypassed us and we lost a great deal of revenue. We are looking forward to having the race return to Wasilla this year, but who knows."
The Iditarod has also entered the world of technology. A Web site program, called Iditarod Insider, is hopefully going to be the wave and rave of the future for the race committee. Nearly $675,000 was budgeted for the program, which offers subscribers the capability of tracking the race with video updates of at least three times a day, for a charge of $19.95 per year. The success of the program will depend heavily on subscriptions for it to run in the black.
There is no GPS system for help navigating the board game, just as there is no modern electronic technology to guide the sled dogs through the hundreds of miles of snow and ice in the Iditarod.
May the best lead dog (no, not the pewter one) win. Mush!




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