Players surround a makeshift domino table in Washington Heights. (Photo by Shane Snow)
Armando Bronca is outnumbered.
Seated precariously on an upended milk carton, he examines his tiles, selects a double five and shoves it onto the plywood table. A flurry of motion ensues, tiles slamming down from all sides. Bronca shakes his head and abandons his remaining pieces. Game over.
Ecuadorean and in his 60s, Bronca sits opposite three Dominican men less than half his age. Before he has time to lament his loss, another hand of dominoes slides across the plywood, and the game picks up again.
It’s fifty degrees and overcast, and the fields of High Bridge Park in Washington Heights sit quiet at midday. On a path near the 170th Street and Amsterdam entrance, however, ceramic clinking and animated chatter waft from a makeshift game table. Four men play at a time while several others cajole and watch. One scribbles the tally on a folded piece of lined paper.
“We play every day,” says Luis Madrero in Spanish, dealing another hand. “More or less 15, 20 people.” Games last roughly half an hour, with losers replaced by fresh players. “The number of rounds per game depends,” Madrero says.
While a lively dominoes table on the street is not an everyday New York sight, the same is not true in Latin America. These men grew up with the game and have brought Dominican-style dominoes to their corner of Manhattan, continuing their home tradition.
“It’s a social event,” says Thalia Murrough, who works at Northern Manhattan Coalition for Immigrant Rights, which serves Caribbean and Latin American transplants. “It’s something Latin men do – they drink together and play dominoes.”
Domino tournaments, including the annual World Domino Championship, are regularly covered by Spanish television networks like ESPN Deportes and Univision. In March last year, ESPN Deportes aired the Old Spice Domino Tournament at Calle Ocho in Miami’s Little Havana district. Dominated by Latinos, the event drew 278 contestants and broke the Guinness world record for most people playing dominoes at once. Old Spice awarded $30,000 in prizes.
Armando Bronca examines his tiles while opponents heckle one another. (Photo by Shane Snow)
Juan Jose Guerrero is winning this time. His chunky silver ring clanks when he slams his tiles down. “Vamos, vamos, vamos!” Guerrero heckles the other players. He has to leave in a few minutes for work.
The games start at 8 a.m. and continue until dusk settles. A few men purchased the pieces, and a man they call Senor Rodriguez sets up each morning. It’s unclear when the phenomenon started, but the games continue even in winter. “We just wear jackets,” Bronca explains. Players come and go as they please – between shifts, when they’re bored. It’s a perpetual tournament, played daily.
“Some of us work at night, some don’t work,” says Armando Martes in Spanish.
Bronca, for example, is retired. “I’m on Social Security,” he says. Everyone else at the table has a job to get back to, but more players will come.
No money is exchanged at the games; the players simply love dominoes, which several say they’ve played since childhood. “You could play for money if you wanted to,” says Madrero. “But not here. Not us.”
Another retiree, Miguel Duran, ambles up to the game and salutes everyone. “I don’t play anymore,” he says in thick, Dominican-accented Spanish. “I’d rather not sit. I like to go walking.”
But the others talk him into taking a seat. Just one game.
