Glimpses of a Dying Sport

In Miami I also went to the Jai Alai fronton. I remembered the sport from an old Bud Spencer and Terence Hill movie set in the Miami of the seventies. During my first visit, there were no games going on. So I investigated the old building, looking at the court from the attached casino, and glancing through the locked glass doors at the run down lobby. I imagined the hustle and

Notice the computer
in the background.

bustle this was built for. All the while it was obvious that these days are long gone. Nowadays nobody comes here anymore, apart from a few rather compulsive-looking gamblers and a hand full of Hispanic old timers yelling at the players. The state of the building and equipment spoke rather eloquently about the lack of use and care. Both lobby and court are testaments to the heyday of the game. There sure never was an update since. This place is a relic of the seventies, when the sport was really popular. It feels like looking through a window back in time. In the empty ranks of the court, below the pink neon lights, you can almost see the crowds in cheap suits (there was a dress code), with cigars and a scotch in hand, tossing down the receipts of bets gone bad. The queues at the betting office. And the use of that grey box, which was a modern computer back then.



"Everybody greet the empty chairs!"

"This time I'll win!"

The next day I came back and watched a few games, making more pictures, betting on a game (I lost), and soaking in the atmosphere of the place. You inevitably wonder why people come here at all. And if you wonder why the place even still exists, the answer is simple: Florida law allows a gambling casino only to be operated if it also offers something like horse racing or Jai Alai. The casino is full. And the few Jai Alai spectators, too, seem less fans than gamblers. There even are people who don't bother with watching the game live anymore at all, following it instead on a screen in the lobby that is conveniently close to the betting booths. Only two of which are manned. The players also don't seem to put in too much effort, torn between a general realization of the pointlessness of their activity and momentary excitement over moves of great athleticism. It's a

Game time!

labor of love for them, I guess. But surprisingly, according to an article about the game, they earn pretty good wages. And not just comparably, for throwing a ball around with nobody watching, that is. Some of them make it into the six figures. Still, there are not too many around. At the world championships the sole American player was paired with a Cuban-American, since the organizers couldn't find another American player. Not too many around who pick up the game in the first place, apparently. And I think even a good wage cannot quite make up for the somber feeling of the situation. As I said, a labor of love...