There are 24 sports bars in Rochester, many more in the outlying region. This according to Sportsbars.com. It is a service I actually found myself using.
It was the end of a difficult week. Away from the safety net of my adopted home, I consulted the internet for a place to watch the Boston Celtics NBA playoff game. A place of total escape. A sports bar. This is an outlet I rarely find myself in need of. The games I care most about are better enjoyed in an atmosphere uncolored by adult beverages and the distraction of a crowd.
There were none in a ten mile radius. Forced to improvise I wound up at a place called Joe's, a surprisingly upscale restaurant that doesn't consider it self a sports bar in the purest sense. We know this only because none of the high-def televisions run with the volume up. That's really all it takes these days.
Joe's is a bit of a late comer. It had several of the television set up just a couple of weeks earlier. But there are six bar stools with an angle on both the Celtics and the Red Sox. I get one of those six seats.
Ken is our host. A thorough professional he has been at Joe's for three years and clearly knows the strengths of his venue. They include complimentary garlic bread and an oil based dip. He doesn't plan on being a career bartender but doesn't really know where else he's headed. This will do for now. He's not a sports fan particularly, roots for the New England Patriots football team but admits to faking his way through the rest.
The basketball game is lousy. Philadelphia plays poorly. Boston plays worse. Over on the other screen the Sox are beating Seattle. Who doesn't. There is little compelling about either contest.
But the night is a success thanks to a few others who make Joe's their Monday night getaway. To my right is an older man, a classy looking professional who is polite to a fault. To my left, two insurance types who loudly critisize the officials in the basketball game and don't stay for the finish. Across the way is a younger man, a weight lifter type who drops by for a sandwich. Finally there's a guy in a dress shirt. He is a wine drinker, a regular it turns out, who is also the only person at the bar interested in the Stanley Cup Playoff game on that night.
It is a high stakes game of people watching, as judgmental as it gets. Who among this sports-watching crowd is the better tipper. The old guy, loudmouths, sandwich eater or the wine drinker.
Ken cooperates but all he knows off the top of his head is that the loud referee baiting insurance types tipped poorly. The remaining three were close enough to look up. Turns out the older guy finishes third. Perhaps good manners come with a cost. The sandwich eater is second. The wine drinker wins. He comes in a buck over twenty percent. It was a spirited competition.
Joe's isn't a sports bar in the purest sense. But in need of a quick escape, and with a little imagination, its games were just as good.
