Action Sports Take Over Dallas

The second BMX rider breaks his collarbone after an awkward landing from the course's 30-foot descent. The fourth badly sprains an ankle. The motorcycles take off from a 42-inch-wide ramp. The inline skaters drop in from 25 feet. And we thought Tatu was "rad" for taking off his jersey after scoring a goal for the Dallas Sidekicks?

Looking up at the insanity, it's akin to riding Six Flags' Judge Roy Scream on two wheels. And the tricks? Harder than Pinocchio on Viagra.

"The first time you try something big, you feel your guts in your throat," Halterman says. "But without that rush, what's the point?"

Like wrecks in a NASCAR race and fights in the NHL, action sports thrive on both big air and the big err. It's a subjective sport scored by judges but powered by customers who appreciate a faceplant as much as perfection.

At a demonstration in Dallas last year, Kraft suffered a broken palate when his front forks snapped and his face met metal handlebars. He once shattered his ankle so severely doctors distracteWd him with a superfluous shot in his arm while violently twisting the shredded bones, ligaments and tendons back into the general neighborhood of normalcy.

"If they would've told me it was coming," he says, "I would've gone into shock from the pain."

And then there's McGuire. Last weekend he soared his motorcycle 60 feet, letting go with his hands and throwing his arms out, clinging to the machine with only his feet cupping the handlebars—Christ Air.

"Last year in Dallas I ruptured my spleen and lacerated my liver," he says. "Just goofin' off."

Dear Norm Sonju,

Maybe you were right.