"Ten years from now, I think I'll look back and say what a difference this place made, and the difference will be positive," Pato says. "What is the option? To have a place that's dying? Dania Jai-Alai puts the city on the map, and I think it will put us on the map again. You're only a few steps away from having a full casino anyway. It's only a matter of time."
The trick is whether the racinos can actually split the uprights. Today, they are, with the exception of the renovated Gulfstream, low-rent joints most charming in their rumpled, egalitarian air. What will happen if they succeed in turning around the ailing pari-mutuel industry? Full casinos might not be such a distant notion.
Nova Southeastern's Bob Jarvis says legal slots will beget casino development all over the state, not just in Pompano.
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Laws dictate a minimum number of performances for racing and jai alai, but if owners want to shave off about half of the current performances — or heck, lobby to change the laws — they may find that the original function of the pari-mutuels just bogs down the casino business.
The International Jai-Alai Players Association, which represents the players who toss the cue ball-like pelota at speeds of up to 150 mph, has already raised the depressing prospect of a Dania Beach fronton without the games. The worst-case scenario has occurred in Rhode Island, where the introduction of slot machines doomed live jai alai, as owners of the fronton dropped the costly enterprise of jai alai in exchange for slots revenues.
During another Heat game broadcast at Tickets, Savin, the then-Gulfstream president, pondered the possibilities. "We never thought there would be table games in the near future, as in the next ten years," he said from behind sepia-tinted sunglasses, indoors, at night. "But the Seminoles could actually make that happen, if they push the envelope. We'll see. There are a lot of different ways it could play out."
The next few years are the tryout for this stage of the gambling experiment. Gas prices could continue to climb, pressuring lawmakers to find more avenues to attract tourists to the state. The Seminole could defuse any gambling arms race by standing pat with their $900 million in revenues. In any case, the issue is unlikely to fade — depending heavily on Floridians' next choice for governor.
"I'm sure [Bush] would like nothing more than to leave office without the first slot machine being turned on," Savin said. "To his constituency, he has stayed true. Maybe he leaves office, and whether it's [Charlie] Crist or [Tom] Gallagher or Rod Smith or [Jim] Davis, then it changes all of a sudden. There are these four pari-mutuels open that are hopefully delivering hundreds of millions of dollars to the state, and people see this isn't a big, bad thing; they see it's a big, good thing. It gets easier to get either more machines or the Dade County referendum, so there would be seven pari-mutuels.
"And Jeb can say, 'I controlled it on my watch,' and when he runs for president in 2012 or whatever, fine, he kept his word to his supporters."
As Savin talked, the crowd cheered lustily at the game — this turned out to be the night that the Heat dispatched the Chicago Bulls from the playoffs — and the sound echoed off a ceiling high enough to render a light sculpture hanging from the center nothing more than glowing stalactites. At eye level, the green walls are festooned with plasma-screen TVs, but above, they give way to great blank expanses of wall.
It was pointed out to Savin that at Vegas casinos, you wouldn't find unadorned walls. They would carry video boards with the latest odds for these very same playoffs, and beneath them, a man in a dapper shirt would take bets on whether Miami could cover the spread.
Lowering his voice, Savin replied: "It's very easy to envision this as a sports book."
Enough of horseracing. Bring on the next referendum.
