Night The Lights Went Out in Vegas

As the college football season fast approaches, and more importantly the ‘05-‘06 wagering year begins, I for one, cannot help but to look back 3 years ago and reminisce about one the most extraordinary (read: fixed) sporting events the gambling world has ever seen. It was a game where the betting outcome wasn’t determined by a missed extra point (“NOOOO!” – Saints announcer, 12/21/03), a Rodney Peete fumble (“NOOOO!” – me, 11/10/02), or even a 5th down (“NOOOO!” - Missouri fans, 10/6/90). Instead, it was a bizarre play off the field, WAY off the field, that kicked the betting public in the collective nuts that night.

For the non-degenerates in the audience, the game I am referring to is UNLV/Wisconsin, played August 31, 2002.

As you’ll see, the game’s ending was shadier and more mysterious than a North End election. What you will also see is that of all the unpaid writers in all of metro Boston, this one just so happened to be vacationing in Las Vegas that week, and in attendance at Sam Boyd Stadium that night. Here is my account of the events leading up to and through the now infamous game.

When I arrived in Vegas on Tuesday night the 27th, it didn’t take long to figure out who UNLV was playing in their home opener on Saturday. Whether it was the Tram to the Mandalay, the front row at Club Paradise, or the line (again) at the ATM, you couldn’t go 10 feet without seeing someone sporting “Bucky the Badger” paraphernalia or wearing a friggin’ foam block of cheese atop their head. Wisconsin fans had actually flocked in such droves that week that the game itself set an all-time attendance record for UNLV football.

What Badger fans also did was flood the sportsbooks. And rightly so.

In fact, when I first noticed the line at “Wisc…3….UNLV” written in red magic marker at the “palatial” Tropicana sportsbook, I too nearly put down my Keno Gold card and hopped the 6 folding chairs blocking my path to the betting counter.

Huh?

How could UNLV only be getting a field goal to a Big 10 power like Wisconsin? Did Randall Cunningham have an extra year of eligibility I didn’t know about? Is the Fonz the new coach for the Badgers?

Whatever the case may be, “rat game” or not, there was nothing stopping me, Badger fans, and seemingly everyone else in Sin City from throwing a few bucks on Wisconsin.
Strippers, cab drivers, poker players, even the 9 year old kids passing out porn agreed that this game was a lock. And by the time we took our seats behind the east endzone of the stadium on Saturday night, the line had reflected that opinion and skyrocketed 5 full points all the way to -8.

As the game progressed, fortunately for us “Badger fans” in attendance, things could not have looked better. UNLV was pathetic – they had 5 turnovers in the first half while Wisconsin, as expected, moved the ball at will. The score at the break was 24-7, good guys. Ka-f’n-ching.

By the end of the third quarter, with the game well in hand, “Bucky” the aforementioned Badger mascot, actually began doing the “Stayin’ Alive” dance on the Rebel field…while incidentally, I did a similar maneuver in my seat. “Oh, it was a delight” as Will Ferrell’s James Lipton would say.

Finally, with 9 minutes left and the score now 27-7 Wisconsin, my buddies and I decided it was safe to take off. But just as we entered our cab outside the stadium, my friend Jerry’s cell phone rang. It was my brother, who was also at the game but sitting on the other side of the field. He handed me his phone and I answered.

“Pete, what the fuck? You seeing this?”

“No, what? What are you talking about, we just left.”

“The fuckin’ lights went out in the stadium.”

“What? When?”

“Just now.”

My first reaction I guess was disbelief. I didn’t really understand what he meant. My older brother instincts kicked in and I told him to just sit tight and not doing anything stupid. My second reaction was just wow, good thing we left. I never had any reason to suspect anything else.

So 20 minutes later, after getting dropped off at the Trop, I decided to stop by the sportsbook to check out what happened with the game, and of course, cash my ticket.

But as I headed towards the back of the casino, I could hear a disturbance in the sportsbook. It was something I hadn’t heard in my entire 5-day stay at the hotel. Actual human beings in the sportsbook. Yelling. LOUDLY.

Uh-oh.

I didn’t know what was going on but I knew it wasn’t good. I walked in the room and bedlam had broken out in the Tropicana sportsbook as no less than 3 Badger fans, 2 sporting cheese heads, were screaming at the 21 year old bookie behind the counter. These people were not happy – one of them actually REMOVED his cheese head and slammed it violently against the side wall, which is something you just never see.

So between the commotion, the Midwest accents and the flying cheese heads, I really couldn’t comprehend anything. Huh? What? Finally, I noticed a message on the dry-erase board written that started to explain things:

“Due to the 55 minute rule, all bets on the Wisconsin/UNLV game are off.”

A few minutes later, after talking to the now frazzled bookie, I figured things out. It turned out that the power at the stadium was “lost” with 7:41 left in the 4th quarter. Just 2 minutes and 41 seconds from reaching the necessary 55 minutes. The refs then consulted with the coaches for 15 minutes and a decision was made that the game could NOT be completed. The game, while official in the eyes of the NCAA, with Wisconsin winning 27-7, was null and void in the eyes of Vegas. All bets were off since according official sportsbook rules, “a college or pro football game MUST go 55 minutes in order to pay.” And anyone who bet on Wisconsin had their original bets refunded by the house, which was a small consolation to say the least.

“You gotta be f’n shittin’ me” was pretty much my reaction. “Honestly. How does this shit happen?”

Initial reports after the game claimed a car accident had caused the shortage, but that was later denied. A blackjack dealer at the Mandalay Bay told me he thought it was lightning, even though it never rained. Rumors were circulating all night, each one more ridiculous than the next.

Of course, Nevada gaming officials have always denied ANY foul play, and simply say the timing was coincidental. They also insisted Oswald acted alone and that Mark McGwire never took steroids.

Please. Do you think some guy just happened to trip over the cord 2 minutes before the game became official?

The bottom line with the “Night the Lights Went Out in Vegas” is that none of us will ever know what really happened. I for one have always believed that it was simply the powers that be in Vegas flexing their muscles and giving a big F-U to everyone, including me, who thought they were getting the best of them that week. Maybe it was an obnoxious Badger fan who said the wrong thing to the wrong person? I don’t know. But ever since that night in the desert 3 years ago, whenever I bet on a football game, especially one that takes place in southeastern Nevada, I’ll always be wary of the 55 minute rule. And I’ll always know that no matter the score, a game is never, ever over, until Vegas says it is.