The world鈥檚 fastest ball sport has been dying a slow death for decades.
Now, a group of committed enthusiasts is doing all it can to save jai alai, a game that originated in the Basque region of Spain and France but took root in Miami during the go-go days of the 1970s and '80s.
What could be jai alai鈥檚 curtain call is playing out at Magic City Casino, one of the last places the game is played as a professional sport. Gone are the celebrities like Paul Newman and John Travolta who used to crowd into sweaty, smoke-filled grandstands on a Saturday night to watch elite athletes fling a goatskin ball called a pelota in a three-walled fronton, or court, at 130 mph (210 km/h).
Instead, just a few dozen family members and die-hard fans turned out for a recent match. Live wagering, which long drove the sport, has dried up in the era of YouTube and online gambling. And many of the game鈥檚 top players who used to make the journey across the Atlantic have hung up their wicker cestas 鈥� curved baskets for catching and throwing 鈥� leaving a void that a roster of local, homegrown talent is hard-pressed to fill.
But the one advantage of having fallen so far is that the only direction left to go is up.
鈥淲e鈥檙e pretty confident there鈥檚 a future,鈥� said Scott Savin, the chief operating officer of Magic City. 鈥淎t least there鈥檚 a present, so that means we have a fighting chance at a future.鈥�
The Casino @ Dania Beach announced last month that it's also giving the centuries-old sport a second chance, but the fate of the sport still largely depends on the shoulders 鈥� and overextended rotator cuffs 鈥� of Magic City鈥檚 roster of 28 athletes. Seven of them 鈥� from Spain, France and the Philippines 鈥� were hired after nearby Dania Beach Casino鈥檚 fronton ended its seven-decade run last year.
One of the foreign players, Inaki Goitiandia, took up the sport at age 10. Jai alai was a favorite pastime growing up in the small town of Markina-Xemein in northern Spain. But as an adult, he and his brother Julen followed their father and grandfather鈥檚 footsteps to Miami, which for decades was a magnet for the game鈥檚 top talent.
鈥淭his is the only place where you can make a living playing jai alai,鈥� Goitiandia said, wiping his brow after winning an exhausting round-robin doubles match.
The remaining players are former high school and college athletes who learned the game as adults and still struggle with basics like catching the ball.
Tanard Davis, who was signed by the Indianapolis Colts after playing football at University of Miami, saw his NFL career fizzle and moved to Atlanta to pursue a career in law enforcement. In 2018, he was among the Hurricanes alumni who answered an email blast looking for volunteers from Magic City鈥檚 owners, the Havenick family, who are also major donors to UM athletics.
Davis is grateful for the opportunity to put on a uniform and get the adrenaline flowing again.
鈥淚t鈥檚 like a high school basketball player facing off against LeBron James,鈥� said Davis, who at 39 is one of the oldest but most physically fit players. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 stand a chance in the long run, but I want to play as hard as I can.鈥�
To speed up the sport, Magic City has reduced the traditional fronton by nearly 60 feet (18 meters) and replaced the goatskin ball 鈥� as hard as a hockey puck 鈥� with a bouncier pelota that ricochets against plexiglass instead of the traditional granite wall. Magic City is also experimenting with the rules, creating so-called Battle Court matches resembling head-to-head singles tennis.
The goal is to reach younger, online bettors for whom win-place-show wagering is a bygone era. Content deals on free, advertising-supported platforms means games are reaching a potential audience of 115 million households and Magic City has teamed with platform BetRivers for online betting in seven states.
Want your own sports franchise? Sponsoring a team with catchy names like the Wall Warriors and Cesta Cyclones costs $100,000 鈥� a bargain, Savin said, for a niche sport whose natural fan base is somewhere between the WNBA and Canadian football.
鈥淚t鈥檚 crawl, walk, run 鈥� but I think we got past crawl,鈥� he said.
The first jai alai fronton in the U.S. was built in St. Louis, for the 1904 World鈥檚 Fair, and in its heyday the game was played in several states. But it was always strongest in Florida, where pari-mutuel betting on horse racing, greyhounds and jai alai has been legal since the 1930s, and especially Miami.
Its long decline began in the 1980s, when Florida authorized the lottery. A players鈥� strike lasting more than two years followed. And gambling competition from federally protected Indian reservations has taken a toll.
In what appeared to be the death knell for the game, Gov. Ron DeSantis signed a deal last year giving the Seminole tribe, which already runs the state鈥檚 biggest casinos, a monopoly over online sports betting. To level the playing field, casinos are no longer required to carry costly pari-mutuel sports in exchange for being allowed to offer slot machines and poker.
Benny Bueno, a former jai alai player who oversees player operations at Dania Beach, attributes the decline to the sport鈥檚 antiquated betting model, with casinos relying on live audiences to drive profits.
He hopes jai alai can make a comeback on simpler, if less lucrative, grounds. Less than a year after hosting its final regulation game, Dania Beach will hold a 10-day exhibition tournament next month that he hopes will revive a full-fledged season there in time for the fronton鈥檚 70th anniversary in December.
Bueno said the outpouring of support from fans saddened to see part of South Florida鈥檚 rich history die pushed the casino鈥檚 owners to give it another try.
Meanwhile, Bueno鈥檚 son is doing his best to keep the game alive at Magic City. Chris Bueno pursued sports like baseball and basketball as a kid and only tried his hand at jai alai at the age of 27, while working as a supervisor at UPS.
鈥淟ike my dad always says: Everyone loves jai alai 鈥� some people just don鈥檛 know it yet,鈥� the younger Bueno said.
With additional reporting by the 港澳天下彩newsroom.
