She asks to look at a menu, and I take a moment to stroll. Dozens of tables eventually lead to a large window that overlooks, appropriately, the race and sports book. When I return to the bar, Maria’s marveling at the presence of angel-food cake on the menu. I’m more impressed that the menu features an entire page devoted to a TV sports schedule, including brief write-ups on recent games. With sports saturating everything, I half-expect to look at Maria’s plate and find that the fries have been meticulously arranged to spell out the score of the Patriots/Vikings game.
ESPN Zone is indeed a sports fan’s nirvana. But what if, God forbid, you’re just not that into sports, like, for instance, me? I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that I don’t know the names of even the biggest sports superstars until they’ve gotten into trouble with steroids or been accused of rape. I still wouldn’t understand how football is played if it weren’t for an annual dose of Madden NFL from my Xbox. I’m just not that competitive, and I’ve never understood the point of watching other people have fun instead of doing it yourself. That’s where ESPN Zone’s Sports Arena comes in.
The Sports Arena arcade is nirvana for athletes and nonathletic types alike, and I love a bar that gives you something interesting to do while you drink. I purchase a card of game-playing credits and survey the technology. Where most bars may have, at best, a 30-year-old Ms. Pac-Man machine, ESPN Zone has a game for every type of sport ever imagined. Final Furlong is a horse-racing game where you rock back and forth on a plastic hobby horse, for Christ’s sake. Since I gravitate towards more conventional racing games, I sit down with Virtua Racer.
After a few minutes of being fast and furious, I find that the speed with which the game is absorbing credits from my card is getting me furious, fast. I grab my beer from the cupholder (yes, that’s right), and look for Maria. Maria is much more sports-friendly than I am, so it’s no surprise when I find her throwing pantomime punches in a game of Mocap Boxing. She’s drawn a crowd, and I wonder if it’s simply because she’s cute or because she’s grown a little tipsy, and each punch she throws is more likely to knock her down than her virtual opponent.
We play a round of table hockey. After scoring the first point, I quickly discover that Maria + alcohol + competition = a lot of swearing. I pause.
"What?" she asks in frustration.
I slowly lift a finger to my lips in a gesture of silence and point to a group of nearby kids.
Seemingly energized by my attempt (make that "failed attempt") to silence her, she scores two points. I quickly overtake her, but to her credit, she knocked both shots into her own goal for me.
"Creative expletive deleted!" she yells.
The score is 5-4. I can’t remember what score ends the game, but I’m afraid it might be 6, and that number might precipitate an onslaught of obscenities that might get us removed from the premises. I could throw the game, but suddenly I find I’m more competitive than I thought I was.
I smack the puck to her end, and she blocks it, causing the disc to rapidly ricochet in the middle. It’s closer to me, but Maria lunges on top of the table to reach it. It disappears into my goal. And the table ceases to vibrate.
"What?" she says. "I didn’t know it could end on a tie." Neither did I, but I’m not complaining. "Want to play again?" she asks. "Nah," I say. "Let’s watch the game instead."
ESPN Zone
Where: Inside New York-New York.
Info: 933-3776.
At long last, Matthew Scott Hunter has a valid reason to drink. You can e-mail him at
[email protected].