By Charlie Crespo
Photography by George Kamper
PAAAAP! A small object strikes an enormous jade-green wall and the sound from the impact echoes throughout the hall. Before the echo has completely faded, the object—moving far too fast to make out exactly what it is—is deftly corralled by a man in white pants and a bright-yellow helmet and launched back at the wall. As the spectators’ eyes try to adjust to the pace, another player tracks its trajectory and scampers toward the sidewall. In one unbelievable, fluid motion, the man propels himself up the wall, snags the object as it careens toward the back corner, lands and flings it back at the front wall.
A few of the spectators in the small crowd gasp. Some applaud and shout encouragement. But, while it is an impressive display of athletic skill, not everyone is pleased. The opposing fanbase curse, throw their heads skyward or softly smack their heads with their programs.
While the players on the court clearly feed off of the crowd’s energy, they don’t acknowledge its presence. There is simply no time to do so. The men’s bodies respond automatically, almost as if giant, invisible strings are pulling them to the object’s erratic bounces and spins. Instinctively, they know just the spot on the court to place themselves to return the object against the wall.
Still, no matter how athletic or instinctive the men are, one of them has to lose the point. As the object hurtles toward the out-of-bounds line, the man in the yellow helmet stretches out in a desperate attempt to gather it. Although it appears he just will barely reach it, the object glances off of his cesta and bounces a few times before the netting separating the court from the audience finally allows it to rest.
Without emotion, the man in the yellow helmet walks off the court while another quietly replaces him. The winner of the point tries to catch his breath before serving against his new opponent. Despite all his work, he has only secured a single point, and it will take six more of these rallies to win the game.
The game, of course, is jai alai.
The specific origins of jai alai are a bit obscure. Modern-day marketing has it pegged as “the world’s fastest sport.” There is no consensus on a specific date or town where the game originated. What is known, however, is the game has existed for about 500 years and evolved from handball and racquet games.
“Jai alai [evolved] from a game called joko garbi, which is a sport that doesn’t exist anymore,” clears up Juan Zulaika, an up-and-comer experiencing a breakout season. “Jai alai started because a player had an arm injury, and he went to a cesta maker around 200 years ago.”
Again, whether or not the story is factual or merely apocryphal is difficult to confirm, but, if true, that legendary player was certainly based somewhere in the Basque Country of north-central Spain and southwestern France. The sport grew up in the shadow of the Pyrenees Mountains and was played on festival days in small villages. Back then, players used church walls as a court.
Over time, the game moved inside, and the first indoor fronton was built in Spain. During the 1904 World’s Fair, the first American fronton was built in St. Louis. However, it wouldn’t be until 1924—when the original Miami fronton was built—that jai alai would be played professionally.
It didn’t take long for the sport to take off in the U.S. Jai alai began to grow rapidly in the ’50s and ’60s, with frontons being built up and down the East Coast. In the ’70s, however, the sport reached its pinnacle.
“My parents used to go to Miami Jai Alai every weekend,” says Benny Bueno, a legendary jai alai player who now works as the operations manager at Dania Jai-Alai. “It was very popular back then. It was a big event.”
And, if you try real hard, you might picture what those times looked like.
The stands were packed with about 10,000 to 15,000 people. Men in suits drank brown liquor and smoked cigars, groups of women fawned over cute players, and it wouldn’t be out of the norm to spot a celebrity in the audience. The crowds were boisterous and electric. As Bueno tells it, the demand was so high that if you wanted to go on a Friday or Saturday night, you needed to nab a ticket on Monday.
But, just as quickly as the sport rose to prominence—more quickly, in fact—it sank into relative obscurity. For much of its existence, jai alai only had the Miami Dolphins as a sporting rival, but, in the late ’80s and early ’90s, South Florida was awarded the Miami Heat, Florida Marlins (now?Miami Marlins) and Florida Panthers, which stole potential jai alai fans.
Jai alai also was forced to compete with new gambling options, including the state lottery, Indian casinos and “cruises to nowhere,” which took bettors into international waters for a night of tax-free gambling. A three-year player’s strike beginning in 1988 and the poor promotion of the sport to a younger generation made things worse.
“I think it was a mistake that the owners made when jai alai was in its prime,” says Diego Barandika, the No. 1 ranked player in the world. “They didn’t show it in schools. They didn’t try to grow the sport. Now it’s not on TV. They had their chance 20 years ago when there were crowds of 10,000 people.”
But just when it seemed the sport was on its deathbed, jai alai may be getting a second lease on life in South Florida. And if jai alai does rise again, it likely will start with Dania Jai-Alai.
Fort Lauderdale’s local fronton boasts the strongest collection of talent available anywhere in the world. In addition, since many of the frontons elsewhere have closed down, the talent pool has only gotten more concentrated. Imagine if all the talent in the NBA was captured on just six teams and the best team was in Fort Lauderdale. That’s what you have at Dania Jai-Alai.
There isn’t just incredible jai alai talent at Dania, either. There’s a new ownership group from Argentina looking to bring the sport back. Although the jai alai area at Dania accommodates only 160 people, it will expand in about a year to seat approximately 500. The renovations will include a glass wall between the jai alai seating and the main floor of the casino, which will allow patrons to see the court from almost anywhere in the casino.
Of course, those closest to the sport advise a wait-and-see approach.
“Just as we had a perfect storm in the negative, we kind of need the perfect storm to happen in the positive,” Bueno says when asked if jai alai can return to its former glory. “We always talk about what the sport needs. We need an ownership group with interest and with money to invest. We have that now. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
Originally appeared in the Spring 2014 issue.
