Feb. 8, 2005

Where's the Party?

By Steve Friess

Special to ESPN.Com

LAS VEGAS -- The NFL did everything it could think of to try to ruin Super Bowl Sunday for Dan Hendricks and Roy Thornton in Vegas. And yet, just like Tom Brady's New England Patriots, the childhood pals from suburban Chicago found a way to have a winning weekend.

You see, Hendricks and Thornton, both 38 and now living on different coasts, have a Super Sunday tradition. Each year for the past decade, they've left their wives back home, grabbed a room at a different Vegas casino and bought tickets to whatever elaborate Super Bowl party their resort of choice was throwing.

Except this year, that plan got caught in the crossfire of the NFL's bizarre crusade against Las Vegas: There were no official, private Super Bowl parties at any of the casinos. The league, in a fit of trademark-protecting zealotry, had announced a major crackdown on such for-profit events -- going so far as to claim it was sending undercover spies to Sin City to catch violations. Some hotels extended "invitations" to their high-rollers and celebrity guests to private, non-ticketed events, but that left non-gambling, non-movie-star folks like Thornton and Hendricks without a plan.

At first, they were bummed. They liked their private parties and had heard Caesars Palace threw a darned good one. Thornton's a lawyer in San Francisco; Hendricks is a money manager in New York. They could afford not to have to rub elbows with "the commoners" in the sports book.

But then L.J. Smith caught that 6-yard pass from Donovan McNabb early in the second quarter. And thousands of crazed commoners erupted in a pandemonium unlike anything they'd ever heard in a private ballroom.

"Oh my God, this is incredible -- these people are nuts!" Thornton screamed over the noise. "The energy out here in the sports book is intense. This is where the real football fans are. Unbelievable. I never would've known."

Yep, here in Vegas, every play is greeted with a roar by someone, because almost every play determines someone's good or bad fortune. Sure, amid the carnival there were a few clowns bedecked in Eagles or Patriots attire and actually partisan for geographic reasons. More typically, the sports book provides the purest form of fair-weather-fandom.

"I was rooting for New England for the first quarter because I picked them to outscore the Eagles, but they didn't score at all and I lost $100, so now I'm putting some money on the Eagles to outscore them in the third," said Jim Brewster, 45, of Knoxville, Tenn. "I honestly don't care who wins this thing. I just don't want to have to tell my wife I lost too much money, y'know?"

Poor Brewster. Doesn't he know that the Super Bowl's not about gambling? At least, that's the constant refrain of Paul Tagliabue, who annually refuses to allow any Vegas-related ads to air during the game lest the sport become too closely aligned with casino betting. Never mind that more folks flock to Vegas each year for the game than to the city where it is played, making it the city's single biggest betting day. At least $80 million is wagered in Las Vegas alone.

"I live in Jacksonville, and I'm here to tell you that unless you're actually at the game, I can't imagine why anybody would want to be there for any football game, let alone the Super Bowl," said Randi Heilman, 49, as she munched on a $5 Nathan's hotdog smothered in relish. "It's a horrible city, and I can say that because I've lived there my whole life."

That's not to say everyone had a good time. Northwestern senior Jameson Smith was crestfallen when he came back from a 45-minute excursion to the bar to have to tell his friends that he met a hot brunette who seemed totally into him but who turned out to be a hooker.

And Doris Greenstein, a 72-year-old bottle-redhead from Boca Raton, Fla., knew she was out of place sitting with her husband, Ronnie, in the sports book. Every 10 minutes she'd loosen a few dollar bills from her pink beaded money pouch and navigate her way from her seat through a forest of drunk, screaming frat boys and their bottle-blonde women to place her bets on the upcoming round of Keno.

"I just wish they would move out of the way during the commercials," she griped in a thick New York accent. "Next year, we stay home."

It isn't too early to start pondering next year. The Patriots' dynasty-making triumph was a bit of a disappointment to many bettors because the three-point victory failed to cover the seven-point line. But even in his loss, Jamie Hayden of Dallas saw some hope for the future.

As the Patriots' win was sealed with Rodney Harrison's interception, Hayden dropped his worthless betting slip on the beer-gooey floor and got back in line to place another bet. The Patriots, it seems, are already 4-to-1 favorites to win Super Bowl XL.

And Hayden wanted some of that action.

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