Jai Alai Moves North

For most New Englanders, the correct pronunciation of jai alai was, like a suntan, something acquired on vacation in Florida. Since early this summer, however, when the sport made its first foray north with the opening of two jai alai frontons, or arenas, in Connecticut, bettors have learned to say hi-lie quite properly--and, for the state, very profitably. Nearly $1 million a day pours through the betting windows at Hartford and Bridgeport from capacity crowds newly hooked on the world's fastest game and the fast buck.

Jai alai, a three-walled version of handball, originated in the Basque region of the Pyrenees during the 17th century, and remained unchanged until the sport crossed the Atlantic and became the object of parimutuel betting. Jai alai was adapted to the requirements of the $2 windows around Miami, where it has been popular for 50 years. The eight players wear the numbers of the eight post positions on their jerseys. The march onto the court that opens each game resembles nothing so much as a parade of horses to the starting gate. Matches are either singles or doubles.

A game, played until one side accumulates seven points, rarely takes more than 15 minutes, instead of the hours-long battles of strategy and endurance that mark the original, 35-point version. Even the long Basque names of the players, such as Francisco Maria Churruca Iriondo have been shortened to one name only in the hope that they will fall trippingly, from the wagerer's tongue. But crowds still shout "Come on, Three!" rather than "Do it, Churruca." Exotic betting possibilities like quinellas and perfectas win out over personalities in the wallet.

Groupie Pits. The beauty and ferocious speed of the sport have survived despite the transmutation. With long wicker baskets called cestas strapped to their arms, the players catch and in a single, fluid motion hurl the pelota toward a 40-ft. granite front wall. The pelota--three-fourths the size of a baseball and harder than a golf ball--caroms toward the 176-ft.-long side wall or arcs toward the back wall at speeds of up to 150 m.p.h. To spectators safe behind a wire screen, the ball seems to fly fast but true. A cesta is ribbed, however, and the patterned wicker puts more English on the ball than can be found in most freshman college classes. It is as though Nolan Ryan's 101-m.p.h. fastball had suddenly turned into a 150-m.p.h. knuckleball. The players dart to line up the angle, leap for the catch and, elbow locked, sweep the ball back to the wall.

The combination of high-speed action and the potential for a big payoff has led to a jai alai craze in Connecticut. Bridgeport and Hartford have overflowing frontons six nights a week. Afternoon matches have been added; these, too, play to capacity crowds. On the night of Hurricane Belle, 1,000 patrons showed up for jai alai in Hartford although the management had deferred to the storm and canceled the program.

The atmosphere is different in the two towns. In Bridgeport, a gritty industrial town 50 miles from New York City, the crowd is a mix of short-sleeved factory workers and highrollers from New York. Sedate Hartford, a city that retires so early that players can find only two restaurants open when they leave the fronton, seems to have found a long-needed outlet in jai alai. An ovation greets the players each time they march out; the fronton's two "pits"--two standing-room areas closest to the court--are filled with jai alai groupies squealing for their favorites.

The lines at the betting windows are long in both cities. The Hartford fronton had originally hoped for a wagering handle of $30 million during the seven-month season. The take topped that figure after 90 of 229 dates. Hartford aficionado, Engineer Frank Mirmina, likes the action on the court and on the tote board. Said Mirmina: "It's like watching an N.F.L. game that isn't decided until the final 20 seconds. You're not out of it until it's over."

Jai alai's future would seem to be secure if the enthusiasm of Mirmina's eleven-year-old son Michael is an indication. Using his mother's breadbasket for a cesta, he practices throwing rubber balls at the garage. Says Michael: "I wish they had a midget jai alai league here. It's better than midget football."

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