The Last Game

Jai alai is a very distinctive sport which requires its own special equipment. The cesta, a Spanish word for basket, is the long, curved basket a player uses to catch and throw the pelota and is hand-woven specifically for each individual player. The wicker basket is made from reeds found exclusively in the Pyrenees Mountain and the frame is made of steam bent Chestnut.

The pelota is the hardest ball of any sport. It is roughly 3/4 the size of a baseball and is harder than a rock. The core consists of Brazilian virgin de pola rubber, is layered with nylon and hand-stitched with two goat skin covers. The pelota, on average, has a court life of about 20 minutes before the cover splits due to the high velocities at which it hits the wall during play.

Jai alai is played on a special court called a cancha. The cancha has three walls that are made out of granite because it is the only material that can withstand the impact of the pelota. Although there is no standard size cancha, most are 172 feet long(about half the length of a football field) 40 feet high and 40 feet wide. The cancha has three walls and a wire screen forms the fourth wall so spectators may safely view the games.

The rules of jai alai are similar to those followed in tennis and racquetball. All games start with a serve which must land in a certain lined area of the cancha (between the 4 and the 7 line). The receiving player must catch the pelota in the air or on the first bounce, then return it to the wall in one continuous motion. The player cannot stop the motion of or hold the pelota. The players continue to volley until the pelota is missed or goes out of bounds. There are three judges, or referees, on the cancha to enforce these rules (One on the 4 line, the senior judge on the 7 line and the other judge on the 11 line).

The Last Game

Sergio was a jai alai player. He was, in fact, the star player at Fronton Palacio in Tiajuana. It’s all he knew. To become a good player, one had to start young. Sergio’s father, a jai alai player himself, had groomed Sergio to play. He had played since he was old enough to strap a cesta to his arm.

If he had played in the golden years of jai alai, he would have had throngs of admirers. Little boys would have followed him everywhere he went, but Sergio was born too late. The golden years for jai alai in Tiajuana ended in the late 1960’s. Since then, it had been all downhill. Now the Fronton Palacio was closing.

Jai Alai was still played in Florida and a few other states, but many of them had reduced their rosters. There weren’t enough frontons left to absorb all the players from Tiajuana, and even though Sergio was a star there, he’d be lucky to make the team in Miami.

It’s for that reason that he decided to play in the final game-that and the money.

There would be two teams of five players on a team. Jai alai wasn’t usually played in this manner. Generally games were played either round robin, where seven players played each other two at a time until one player had scored seven points, or as a partido where there would be two teams, either singles or doubles, that played until one team scored a certain number of points.

This game would be a combination of the two. It would be played in a singles format with one player on each team against each other at a time. If a player won the point, he would remain on the court to play the next player in line from the other team. The first team to reach twenty one points would win.

The Aztecs had played a game called Tlachtli. The Mayans called the same game Pok-a-tok. It more resembled basketball than jai alai. The object was to get a ball through a hoop, but it had to be done without using the hands. The hoop wasn’t much larger than the ball, so the first team to put the ball in the hoop won. There were other ways to score points, but their purpose was to give the crowd something to gamble on, rather than to determine the outcome of the game. The gamblers would bet heavily, sometimes even wagering their freedom-if they lost they would become slaves. The losing players were beheaded.

So it could be that the stakes of the final game appealed to the ancient Aztec or Mayan blood that flowed in most Mexicans, or maybe the stakes of the final game would have appealed to anyone, regardless of their heritage.

Each player of the winning team was guaranteed $1,000,000, with a chance to win an additional $1,000,000 in an unspecified contest after the game. The losing team would get $500,000, but no chance at the bonus. Oh...there was one other little detail. The losing team would lose their balls. They would be cut off on the court, in front of the crowd, immediately after the game.

Each player decided to play in the final game for his own reasons. Sergio, being one of the best players, thought his team would win. He would be the first player for his team on the court. With a little luck, he could get his team off to a good lead.

All of the players focused more on the possibility of winning $2,000,000 than losing their balls. That part of it was probably just some kind of marketing ploy anyway they thought. After all, this was 2002. Something like that couldn’t really happen today. And, even the losers would get $500,000. When you were faced with no prospects for employment, it seemed like a lot.

Attendance for the final game was by invitation only. High rollers from all over the world attended. Cheap seats were $20,000 each. Front row seats went for $100,000. The Fronton was packed! It would be possible to bet on many aspects of the game, not just on its outcome. One could bet on each individual point. There would be runners available to take bets. The fronton would take twenty five percent of the mutual pool.

Sergio was to serve to start the game. He was distracted by a large bulls eye painted on the front wall. The red center was about two meters across. In it was painted $1,000,000. It was another two meters to the next line. Within these lines was painted $100,000. Another two meters from the center was the final line of the bulls eye. Within it was painted $10,000. What most distracted Sergio, though, was that which was portrayed outside of the bulls eye. Outside, on each side, bloody, severed, scrotums were depicted. Sergio guessed that the bulls eye must have something to do with the bonus round after the game.

With a deafening roar from the crowd, the game began! Sergio’s serve hit so close to the side wall that Roberto, his opponent, had to play a rebote-a shot off the back wall. He was able to return it, but so weakly that Sergio made a kill shot-a remate. The score was 1-0.

Sergio defeated his next three opponents bringing the score to 4-0. He had been wondering about the bulls eye, however. Apparently the player in the bonus round would have to serve the pelota-ball-so that it struck the bulls eye. Sergio couldn’t resist trying to hit it. He struck the $100,000 ring, but the serve didn’t land between the #4 and #7 line as was required. The score was now 4-1. Sergio took his place on the bench.

When it was again Sergio’s turn, his team was leading 5-4. Sergio took two points, but then the pelota took a funny bounce-at least that’s what he told himself. He lost the point. Score 7-5, his team leading.

Raul, the player that had beaten Sergio, took the next three points before losing to Jorge on Sergio’s team. The score was now tied at eight!

The fronton was complete bedlam. Bets were being made on every point. Millions of dollars were changing hands with each round of betting.

Jorge won two points before losing to Esteban. The score was 10-8. Arriaga was next.

Esteban beat Arriaga. The score was now 10-9. Sergio was next.

Esteban beat Sergio! The score was now 10-10. Esteban took the next three points. Sergio’s team was now behind. 10-13! Jorge was back up.

Jorge lost to Esteban! The score was now 10-14! Sergio was up.

Sergio lost to Esteban again! He couldn’t believe that he had lost twice in a row to Esteban. The score was now 10-15! Esteban was really playing well tonight. Well, he did have his balls on the line.

Whew...Manuel beat Esteban bringing the score to 11-15. Manuel beat Roberto, but lost to Javier. The score was 13-16.

The beads of sweat on Sergio’s brow weren’t just from playing the game. What if the losers really would lose their balls? This crowd wouldn’t be in such a frenzy otherwise. It might really get ugly, if someone didn’t.

Tico-on Sergio’s team-beat Javier and Raul closing the gap to 14-16, but lost to Arruta. The score was now 14-17. Four more points by the opposing team, and Sergio would lose his balls. He was beginning to feel a little sick to his stomach.

Jabi, Jorge and Arriaga all lost! The score was 14-20. Sergio was up, but he would have to take seven straight points!

Six frantic, hard fought points later. the score was 20-20. Sergio had to win just one more point. Winning six points in a row was phenomenal! It rarely happened. At least he was up against Roberto. Roberto hadn’t won a point yet tonight.

Sergio was feeling a little weak in the knees when he served. The pressure was beginning to tell. Still he made a good serve. Roberto’s return was equally good. Sergio had to extend himself to get to the ball. The volley seemed to go on forever. Neither player was willing to concede-to lose his balls. Then Roberto left Sergio an easy shot. He should be able to make a remate-to kill it.

It might have been the pressure, or because he was tired-he had played six hard points-but Sergio’s shot came off his cesta a little wrong. It hit the out of bounds area at the bottom of the front wall. He lost the point-game-$500,000. Would he also lose his...balls?

Everyone in the place was on his feet, shouting. Sergio heard a chant begin, then swell in volume, becoming more and more distinct, in Spanish, English, and other languages as well. In English, “Cut them off!”

He started walking off the court toward the dressing room, but every exit was covered by security guards. Two of them grabbed his arms and escorted him back to the center of the court. He saw that his teammates also were being held by security guards.

They had brought a table out on the court. On it they placed several instruments. There were some surgical shears and a strange device along with some rubber rings. He heard someone call it an “Elastrator.”

They started with Arriaga, the fifth man on his team. First they handed him a check for $500,000. Then four large security guards pinned him to the table. When they pulled off his shorts and jock strap, he began screaming. “No, keep the money. I don’t want it. I don’t want any part of this deal.”

The elastrator spread open the ring. It was placed over his scrotum up next to the base of his cock. Arriaga screamed as the ring closed. They placed another ring right at the top of los huevos-the eggs-his nuts. He was still screaming as a man in a white hospital uniform placed the jaws of the shears on the skin of his scrotum between the two bands.

Those, who bet that he would faint when his sack was snipped off, won. It came away banded-the two balls locked inside the sack by the rubber band. There wasn’t much blood. The bands stopped its flow.

When the ball sack was held up for everyone to see, they cheered, but the show wasn’t over. They explained the bonus. To win $1,000,000, a player of the winning team would have to hit the bulls eye by making a shot using his cesta, but not with the pelota-with the sack full of balls!

Esteban, the fifth player on the other team went first. They were allowed to try the shot from half court. With a pelota, it would have been easy, but the weight of the balls were all wrong-and one could never tell how they would roll off the cesta.

Esteban was given Arriaga’s balls. He was told to wait until they made one more announcement. He juggled the balls in his cesta, trying to get a feel for their weight.

“If the player hits the bulls eye with the balls, he will get $1,000,000. If he hits the other rings, he will get the indicated amount. If he misses the target altogether, he will lose his balls.”

They hadn’t mentioned this before the game. Esteban dropped the balls on the table. “I don’t want to go for the bonus,” he said. “I’ll just keep my winner’s share.”

“That’s not an option. If you don’t try, you have no chance for the bonus and you lose your balls anyway.”

Under those circumstances, he had to try. It provided another betting opportunity for the fans.

Esteban tried too hard. He attempted to aim, to lob the balls at the target. They barely made it to the front wall at all, hitting just above the foul line, way off the target

His knees were visibly shaking as they grabbed his arms. He may have collapsed, if they hadn’t. Esteban was pinned to the table, banded, and snipped. It was all over in a few minutes. His severed sack was displayed to the audience. The crowd roared.

Jorge, on Sergio’s team was next. He struggled, but to no avail. He was pinned to the table. He screamed, whether from pain or fright, it was impossible to know, when they banded his balls. His scream became a shriek when they snipped them off. He didn’t faint, though. He, as well as the rest of the people in the fronton, wanted to see what would happen when Arruta tried his shot.

Arruta juggled the balls in his cesta. He made some little half swings trying to get a feel for them. Sweat was pouring off his forehead. He made his shot, swinging his cesta just as if he had a pelota in it rather than a scrotum full of balls. It splattered against the front wall-the balls popping loose from the sack, splattering against the granite, flattening against it, their juices staining the wall. They landed barely inside the outer ring. Arruta had earned an additional $10,000. He had saved his balls.

They cut off Jabi’s balls next. He didn’t struggle much. It wouldn’t have done him any good. He still screamed when they cut his sack free from his body. Tears poured from his eyes, from the pain, sorrow of his loss, or both. He smiled when Raul missed the target and they cut off his balls.

Manuel, on Sergio’s team was next. He lost his nuts, as did Javier when the scrotum full of Manuel’s nuts came out of his cesta at a weird angle. He missed by several feet.

Sergio was next. When they pulled down his shorts, everyone saw that he had an enormous erection. All those balls getting cut off had turned him on. Before they banded him, an eloquently dressed woman walked onto the court.

“Sergio should get to have one last orgasm,” she said. “I’ll do it for him.”

Like a volcano, the crowd erupted, shouting, “Si, si...yes, yes.”

She began with his balls, paying particular attention to them-since he would soon be losing them. She licked beneath his balls, starting near his rectum. Then she took his balls into her mouth, one at a time, sucking on them gently, sucking until one popped into her mouth.

She licked the shaft of his cock starting at the base. When she got to the head, she took it into her mouth, first teasing, mouthing, the head, before taking his whole cock into her mouth, into her throat.

Before long, Sergio, momentarily forgetting what was to happen to his balls, lost himself in the feeling. Just before he ejaculated, the woman took his cock out of her mouth. She pumped it as the last of his sperm shot out in great globs onto his stomach.

They banded him while the cum was still oozing from his cock. With a quick snip, he was a eunuch, ball-less.

As Roberto juggled Sergio’s balls in his cesta, “At least, the son of a bitch will soon lose his. That will, at least, be justice,” Sergio thought.

Roberto was the worst player on the other team. Sergio thought it was a fluke that Roberto beat him. He had never liked Roberto. It would almost make losing his balls worthwhile to see Roberto lose his, too.

Roberto, running to the line on his approach, swung his cesta as hard as he could. Sergio’s balls struck the wall so hard that they almost liquefied-popping free of their sack to stick to the wall, before beginning their slide toward the floor. The wall was stained where they hit-right in the middle of the bulls eye!