At Zoo Bar, a different kind of Royals watch party

McFadden’s, the hulking sports bar in the middle of the Power & Light District, has benefited from the Kansas City Royals’ postseason run more than perhaps any other drinking establishment in the metro. The bar spills out onto a public courtyard, where fans by the thousands have been gathering to watch the games on a giant projector. Royals players have been celebrating at McFadden’s after home wins, which keeps the party going long after the games; Eric Hosmer memorably dropped $20,000 on a bar tab for the fans after the Royals bounced the Los Angeles Angels from the playoffs last week. The postseason parties are wherever you want to make them, of course, but the big party is wherever the players are. So far this year, that’s P&L, and McFadden’s specifically.

Approximately 1,000 feet northeast of the Power & Light District is the anti-McFadden’s, a dirty, old, cash-only dive called Zoo Bar. On Wednesday afternoon, a few doors down from Zoo Bar, a man sat in the passenger seat of an early-2000s model Ford Mustang, smoking a thin Black and Mild cigar emitting a dubious aroma. Denny Matthews’ voice wafted from the car’s speakers. Every now and then, faint roars traveled over from the watch party at P&L, audible to Zoo Bar patrons sitting close enough to the bar’s entrance.

There was little going on inside Zoo Bar that would have drowned out any sounds. The population held steady at around 10 people throughout the bulk of the game. An elderly couple by the door (for him: Coors Light can, poured into a highball glass; for her: wine in a transparent green wineglass) chatted with a middle-aged barmaid. In the back of the room, near the restrooms, a cluster of four 50-ish folks sat around a table watching the game. Chili cooked in a Crock-Pot on a nearby shelf. For everyone?

“Please, yes,” said Marilyn, hopping up out of her seat. “Get yourself a bowl. That’s why I made it. There’s the shredded cheese. And here’s the jalapenos if you want to throw them on top. I cut the seeds out of the jalapenos so they’re not too spicy. And those are cornbread muffins if you want one.”

In the sixth: Orioles runners at the corners threatening to score. A line-drive to shortstop. Out number three, inning over, crisis averted. No cheers or claps inside Zoo Bar, though. Whatever relief felt in the room was expressed in silence.

In the seventh, two loud women in their 40s stumbled in and opted not to observe Zoo Bar’s stoic code of conduct. “Royals, Royals, Royals!” they chanted. “Woo-hoo!”

“Can I get a cranberry vodka?” one of the women asked the bartender. “With this much cranberry” — she held her thumb and forefinger perhaps a centimeter apart — “and this much vodka?” — and widened the gap to 3 inches.

Her request was received coolly. The women lasted five minutes before moving along to their next stop.

“They were too old to be acting like that,” a woman in a George Brett jersey said. “Go back to Power & Light.”

“I stopped by Power & Light last night,” another man said. “Sure is expensive over there. Eight-dollar beers. You kiddin’ me? Cheaper than the games, I suppose. Ten-dollar beers there. Plus tickets and parking. It’s getting to the point where regular people can’t even go to a baseball game anymore.”

The bartender came by with another $1.75 PBR and smiled. “I’m usually not such a bitch to customers,” she said. “But have some manners. People are trying to watch the game in here.”