THE JAI LIFE

THE

This page: Daniel Spinner winds up for a powerful throw.

Opposite page: Magic City Casino’s Pelotari includeBen Gadsden, Ben “Benny” Langhans, Nicolas Eyheragaray, Aratz Mendizabal, and Daniel Spinner

LIFE

A LOCAL CASINO IS BETTING BIG ON BRINGING THE STORIED SPORT OF JAI A I BACK TO THE MAGIC CITY

STORY BY JESS SWANSON | PHOTOGRAPHY BY STEVEN MARTINE

No, not the citrusy beer produced by Cigar City Brewing in Tampa (although the brand does sponsor the sport). What we’re talking about here is “the fastest ball sport in the world.” Despite its high-powered tagline, the game of jai alai (pronounced hi-uh-lye) had all but slipped into obscurity following a players’ strike in the 1990s and the growing popularity of lotteries, card rooms, and slot machines at the turn of the millennium.

But in the 15 minutes before the fi rst jai alai game on a

Sunday evening in July, the Magic City Casino—located a few miles west of Coral Gables near the Dolphin Expressway—appears as if it has slipped into a time warp. Scores of men and women, accompanied by their wide-eyed children and grandchildren, trickle into the indoor stadium overlooking a three-walled court. It could easily be 1983. The smartphones and facial coverings are the only twentyfi rst-century clues signifying otherwise.

They’re lining up to make their selections for the upcoming fi ve matches of H2H (called head-to-head), a new jai alai league launched at the casino last spring that pits two or four similarly skilled players against each other. Before the games begin, people clutch scraps of paper and circle the team they think will win each of the fi ve matches, and whether it’ll be won in two sets or three. It costs nothing to participate and, for every prediction that comes true, the casino will pay participants $20. Since parking and admission are free, there’s literally nothing to lose and as much as $100 to gain.

“We tried to put a new spin on the game and take it to 2022,” says Scott Savin, chief operating offi cer at Magic City Casino. “We’re trying to see not just what works in American sports but sports worldwide.”

While jai alai appears to borrow elements of racquetball and baseball, jai alai came fi rst, originating in the Basque region of Spain more than four centuries ago. It’s centered around the cesta, a sickle-shaped, woven basket players strap to their wrists and use to throw and catch a ball clocking speeds up to 150 miles per hour— a curious crossover between Edward Scissorhands and Fastball.

For years, state law required non-tribal casinos to conduct live jai alai games or horse and dog races in order to operate the moneymaking card rooms and slot machines. But, following animal abuse allegations, greyhound racing was banned in Florida via a constitutional amendment in 2018. This prompted other casinos to consider implementing jai alai leagues, and for a time it seemed the sport was rebounding. The number of jai alai permits in the state soon rose from eight to 12.

Then, in 2021, Florida legislators passed what many believed to be the sport’s death knell: SB 7080, which rid casinos of their requirement to host jai alai games in order to run slots and cardrooms. At the time, three jai alai arenas (called frontons) operated in Miami. Now there’s only Magic City Casino; in fact, it’s the only fronton in all of North America.

“We’re the last drive-in, the last Blockbuster, the last deli,” Savin laments. “But we see something here. We think the product is inherently a good one, with a tremendous amount of appeal to one or two generations that have never experienced jai alai.”

Right: Chad “CRB” Barnes blasts a forehand shot to the inside portion of the court. Below: Anderson “Anderluck” Correa makes a diving rebote shot.

Opposite page, clockwise from far left: Matt “Douglas” Langhans; Michael Carballo follows through after a hard throw; Chula Chargers team owner Michael Blechman with son Andrew Blechman, who is Magic City Jai Alai’s game announcer.

Attempting to revive an obscure handball game might sound like an exercise in futility, but Savin is betting on its little-known Miami precedent: The city was once home to the largest jai alai fronton in the world, which drew in a world-record audience of more than 15,000 people back in 1975. It was so popular that Miami Vice centered an entire episode around the game in 1986. In fact, the player who appeared in that episode, Juan Ramón Arrasate, is now tasked with coaching Magic City’s unlikely 28-player roster comprised of third-generation Basque players and, to fi ll the remaining slots, former college athletes who had never picked up a cesta before. Training the former athletes was an effort that proved both hilarious and frustrating as chronicled by fi lmmaker Billy Corben in his 2019 documentary, Magic City Hustle.

“We had all different football players, baseball players—one guy was a lacrosse player, another a high hurdler, plus a golfer from FAU,” Savin says. “We were teaching them a sport they had absolutely no idea how to play.”

In hindsight, it seems unlikely that Darryl Roque and Julen Goitiandia would ever cross paths. The former is from Tennessee, was once a pitcher for the University of Miami baseball team, and won the college World Series championship in 1999. The latter, nearly 20 years Roque’s junior, grew up in the Basque region of Spain to a family of competitive jai alai players, including his grandfather, father, and older brother.

And yet, on a July evening, both men fi nd themselves at the Magic City Fronton, unspooling their cestas to proudly reveal a pair of matching callouses on their right wrists from where the wicker glove digs into their skin with each throw as if they were scars from a blood pact. It’s hard to imagine that fi ve years ago Roque was a high school math teacher and Goitiandia was 4,400 miles away in northern Spain.

“To be honest, I don’t remember if I was 2 or 3 when I tied my fi rst cesta,” Goitiandia says. “It’s my favorite sport, my tradition, and my hobby.” Goitiandia accepted a position at Magic City to play in February 2021. But, for Roque,

THE PRINCIPLES OF THE GAME ARE VERY SIMPLE. THE OBJECT IS TO BOUNCE THE BALL OFF THE FRONT WALL WITH SUCH SPEED AND SPIN THAT THE OPPOSING PLAYER CAN’T RETURN IT.

Here’s how it works: SERVES TO P YER TWO. MUST CATCH AND RETURN THE BALL IN ONE FLUID MOTION (THE BALL CAN BOUNCE ONCE).

MUST THEN CATCH AND RETURN THE BALL, AND SO ON. ! IF A P YER HOLDS THE BALL AND BREAKS THE CONTINUOUS MOTION OR CAN’T CATCH IT AFTER ONE BOUNCE, THE OTHER P YER SCORES A POINT.

YOU TOO CAN BUY YOUR OWN JAI A I TEAM

In February 2022, at the start of the Magic City Jai Alai’s fi fth season, the league debuted Battle Court, a new team concept that divides the league’s 28-player roster into four teams. Seasonal squad ownership rights cost $100,000 and include perks such as determining doubles teams, access to players, and an exclusive VIP area to watch games. Last season’s team owners included Chris Cote, the longtime producer of the Dan Le Batard Show (he owned the Cesta Cyclones); K Marie, otherwise known as “La Gringa Mas Latina” on 94.9 FM (she owned the Wall Warriors); and Jammin’ Johnny from El Zol 106 (he owned the Rebote Renegades).

Michael and Nina Blechman, a retired couple whose son works closely with Savin, own the Chula Chargers squad. Even though the team came in last place, Michael Blechman enjoyed the experience.

“My most memorable moment was sitting with the guys putting the doubles teams together. I felt like Jerry Jones for a couple of hours,” Blechman says. “I really got to know the players on a personal level, and was able to build that relationship with them, giving them a thumbs up from the owner’s box and cheering for our guys.”

By next year, Savin estimates they’ll need to expand their 28-player roster to make way for a fi fth team.

“We’re going to need more players for next year if we expand from four to fi ve teams,” he says. “If the league experiences an expansion that we hope to see in the next few years, we’re going to need training for people who want to become jai alai players.”

Clockwise from left: Jerseys of Matthew “Douglas” Langhans and Baraka “The Rock” Short commemorate the duo’s 2019 doubles championship win; Michael Carballo, Julen Goitiandia, and Darryl “Tennessee” Roque practice on the court; Roque mingles with fans post-game.

it all came down to a random 2017 email from the University of Miami’s athletic department seeking former college athletes interested in playing competitive jai alai. Roque thought it was a joke, but he responded anyway. He’s grateful that he did.

“My fi rst reaction was this wasn’t true and that it was fake,” Roque says. “But lo and behold, fi ve years in, we’re still here and only trying to get stronger.”

The Magic City Casino wanted to bring back jai alai, but fi rst the fronton would need players, and years of declining interest in the sport stateside made that effort especially diffi cult. But the Havenick family, which owns the casino and are major donors to the University of Miami, sent the school’s athletic apartment a bizarre request to email former athletes who might be interested in learning to play jai alai professionally—no experience necessary. The position would be paid, with benefi ts and health insurance.

“I love anything with speed—I ride a motorcycle and my father used to race cars—and being the world’s fastest ball sport is awesome,” Roque says. “Then, also, being around teammates and sports my entire life, it’s nice having the locker room and having our team. Jai alai is an individual sport but we are brothers; we communicate and help each other out.”

A P YER SCORES A POINT IF THE OPPOSING P YER:

• Serves the ball and it does not land between the underserve and overserve lines. • Does not catch the ball on the fl y or after one bounce. • Holds or juggles the ball, preventing one continuous motion. • Throws the ball out of bounds. • Intentionally interferes with a player trying to catch the ball.

Darryl “Tennessee” Roque pivoted to jai alai after playing professional baseball as a pitcher in the Montreal Expos organization. Left: Dennis “El Barba” Dalton sends the pelota fl ying.

At fi rst, Savin explains, the sudden interest in jai alai was to allow the casino to continue operating its slot machines while shifting the business model away from dog racing. But in 2021, when state legislators decoupled jai alai and horse races from the operation of slot machines and card rooms, Savins says, the Magic City fronton didn’t abandon its new program—even though jai alai hadn’t turned a profi t. This November will mark the end of Magic City fronton’s fi fth season.

“With slots, you pull the handle and push the button; it’s low labor and high profi tability,” Savin explains. “But we are working to develop jai alai into a fi nancially

THERE ARE 8 P YERS IN EACH GAME

PELOTA IS PLAYED IN A ROUND-ROBIN STYLE

THERE ARE 2 P YERS ON THE COURT FOR EACH MATCH OF THE GAME. THE P YER WHO WINS THE POINT STAYS ON THE COURT.

THE P YER WHO LOSES THE POINT LEAVES THE COURT AND SITS AT THE END OF THE BENCH (THE BACK OF THE ROTATION LINE) AND WAITS FOR ANOTHER CHANCE TO P Y. THE NEXT P YER IN THE ROTATION GETS ON THE COURT AND P YS AGAINST THE POINT WINNER.

JAI A I 101

Origins: Hailing from the Basque region of Spain, jai alai (which translates to “merry festival” in the Basque language) is played worldwide, but especially in Spain, France, and several Latin American countries. Rules of the game: Depending on the format, two or four players are pitted against each other to throw and catch a ball with a sickle-shaped, woven mitt tied to their right arm in a three-walled court. A single player hurls the ball—which can reach speeds up to 150 mph—at the back wall. His opponent must catch it and then throw it back at the wall. Each player is given two opportunities to serve the ball. In doubles games, one player covers the front court while the other covers the back court. Loud and fast-moving, a match ends when a player is either unable to catch the ball or accidentally throws it out of bounds, forfeiting the point to the other player or team. Jai alai variations: Magic City Casino off ers traditional round-robin play, but has also introduced H2H, in which the fi rst player or team to score six points wins the set, and the fi rst player or team to win two sets wins the match. This simplifi es the way wagers are made. A set runs roughly 15 to 25 minutes. A typical H2H session, comprised of fi ve matches, runs between two and three hours. • Pelota: A hard rubber ball covered in hardened goat skin; it’s smaller than a baseball but harder and heavier than a golf ball. • Cesta: The glove-like, handcrafted wicker scoop tied to a player’s hand and used to throw the ball • Cinta: The binding used to tie a cesta to a player’s hand • Faja: The sash that each player wears around his waist • Fronton: The building where jai alai is played • Cancha: The three-sided playing court • Pelotari: Jai alai players • Sacque: A serve • Rebote: Any shot made after the ball hits the back wall • Scoop: An underhand catch on a short hop • Tanto: A point scored • Mucho: The thing to yell when your team is winning or needs encouragement viable model, and we are fortunate that the casino feels we can develop jai alai into a standalone business that is profi table.”

It was only a matter of time, Savin assured the former college athletes, until they would beat the more experienced jai alai players. Savin trusted the program and especially their coach, Arrasate, a 13-time world champion jai alai player. Admittedly, there was a steep learning curve. In the fi rst season in 2018, the audience and the more seasoned players laughed at the rookies.

“Looking back at all our videos, I don’t understand how anyone took a chance on us: We sucked and looked terrible,” Roque says. “I remember my fi rst throw went nowhere near where it was supposed to go, but at least I didn’t hit my foot.” By the second and third year, the performance of Magic City’s players drastically improved at the U.S. National Jai Alai Championships, where one

Clockwise from top left: Dennis “El Barba” Dalton positions his cesta for a catch; The U.S. National Jai Alai Championship trophy; Michael Carballo follows through; Nicolas Eyheragaray launches a forward shot.

player made it to the fi nals and two doubles teams made it to the semifi nals. By 2021, one player, Matt Langhan, seized the national jai alai championship title for singles. Langhan also paired up with his brother, Benny, and captured the doubles title that same year. “It was a big upset in the jai alai world,” says Sandra Rodriguez, a Magic City Casino spokesperson. “It was a big experiment, and there was so much elation.”

Now, Savin reports that hundreds of thousands of people tune in to watch the games remotely via the Jai Alai app and FTF Sports, including 75,000 users for the livestream on TikTok. In August, the casino announced a multiyear agreement with ESPN, which will cover the fronton’s Battle Court Season II on ESPN3.

“Jai alai has all the elements people who love football, baseball, and other major sports are looking for,” Savin says, “except our ball travels faster, the danger is higher, and so is the athleticism.”

By next year, Savin expects to expand the team and hire more players. There’s even mention of creating a new jai alai training facility to route more athletes into the sport. In the coming years, Savin hopes, jai alai will once again be as synonymous with Miami as drinking a café con leche at Versailles, ordering stone crabs at Joe’s, or snapping a selfi e at Wynwood Walls.

“We think jai alai will be one of those things not to be missed in Miami,” Savin foresees. “Jai alai used to be one of those must-do things, like Vizcaya, and our foremost goal is make that happen again.” (jaialaiworld.com) «

THE CENTURIES-OLD CRAFT OF CESTA MAKING

Tucked into a cubby inside Magic City Casino, Victor Manuel “Manny” Ramirez does what no machine can do. Ramirez makes cestas, and he says he’s one of fewer than 10 cesteros— artisans trained in the skill of cesta crafting. We caught up with Ramirez, who was introduced to jai alai as a teenager in Tijuana.

AVM: How did you learn to be a cestero?

Ramirez: I started to learn the craft at 15. I learned to make and repair cestas as an apprentice. One of the artisans at the local jai alai school in Tijuana showed me the trade.

How do you make a cesta?

It takes much longer to create a cesta than it takes to repair one, approximately 30 hours of labor. A cesta is made from chestnut for the body and wicker is used for the threading. The wood must be so thin to be pliable. Each cesta is used diff erently by the player in terms of how it is worn.

Can cestas be made by a machine?

Synthetic cestas are hard to fi nd and not as durable or good for players, as they can lead to injuries that you wouldn’t get with a handmade cesta.

What does it mean to you to be among the few cesteros left?

To be a cestero is a labor of love. The sport of jai alai has a future only because of what Magic City’s program is doing to support it. I recognize that, and because of it I play the best I can and make cestas proudly. —Kristen Desmond LeFevre