You’ve gotta love a cutesy name. The full moniker of Bobby V’s includes the words “sports gallery” and “café.” Although the Arlington spot serves food — good food at that — I just don’t think of it as a café, though I’ve managed to eat there about once a month for several years now. I never realized the place actually has a real bar, for which I blame my kids.
But last week, when I took my sports-fanatic friend out to celebrate his birthday, we found Bobby V’s bar: a 36-seat rectangle in a separate room. And televisions: at least two dozen TVs of all shapes and sizes, including a giant plasma number that’s as big as my living room wall. The booths are roomy, and each has its own TV. Long story short: No matter where you sit or position yourself at Bobby V’s, you’ll have a view of at least one game.
We visited on a Monday night during a Mavericks game — remember them? The center of attention, of course, was the Mavs, but there were some other games in action on TV, too, like the Mets playing some team and the Indians playing some team and some hockey, too. And in certain parts of the bar you can pretty much watch them all. At the same time.
As far as the term “gallery” goes, Bobby V’s is home to what has to be the largest collection of sports memorabilia in the Southwest. Seriously. It’s kind of like a museum. Other than the space taken up by the TVs, there’s not a square foot of wall or shelf space that isn’t covered by something that has to do with sports. Much of the stuff is related to namesake Bobby Valentine, who played for the Los Angeles Dodgers, Los Angeles Angels, New York Mets, and Seattle Mariners, and then managed the Texas Rangers from 1985 until 1992.
And unlike in some sports bars I’ve been to, the service is attentive. Whether you’re crowded around the bar or in one of the booths, a friendly server, wearing a conveniently labeled t-shirt that says “Staff,” will be at your beck and call. These are some of the hardest-working guys and gals around. There was an entire softball team (in uniform) in one corner of the bar, large groups of Mavs fans scattered everywhere else, and randoms like my friend and me. Still, when we sat down — in a booth, because the bar looked full — we were greeted and served in the time it takes a pit crew to change two tires. (Incidentally, NASCAR appears to be the only sport without repeated memorabilia representation.)
Bobby V’s offers $2.50 margaritas all day, every day, regular or strawberry. That was enough for my buddy Stu and me: We’re cheap and easy. Stu goes for the girly drinks, like the strawberry ‘rita and the screwdriver — at $4.50 a pop, it was not part of any happy hour but was still pretty darn reasonable. Ditto the $4.75 glass of Stone Cellars Pinot Grigio — it wasn’t “special” but about market price for the area. Bobby V’s has other drink specials, too, like $2.75 Corona Tuesdays and the $4 Jägerbomb Mondays. On any other day I would have said, “Seriously?!” But after a margarita or two, well, I was feeling a little frisky. I love a good sale. And the acrid residual taste of tequila pretty much killed the cough-syrupy flavor of the Jägermeister.
The bar is a definite full-service operation, with booze to please all tastes: five kinds of tequila, including Patrón Silver, which I bet wasn’t in my $2.50 ‘rita, four kinds of gin, five bourbons, two cognacs, and nine whiskies (including Irish whiskey from both sides of The Isle), and, wait for it, 13 vodkas! Bobby V’s also has just about every bottled beer imaginable, imported and domestic.
Hovering above us in our booth was a print of the famous Life magazine pic of Muhammad Ali (circa 1965) looking down on Joe Frazier — and, incidentally, us. And holy steroids, Batman! There also was an autographed picture of Mark McGuire and Jose Canseco in their rookie Oakland Athletics uniforms, looking decidedly like normal men rather than juiced-up man-beasts. And on one of the TVs nearby was a broadcast of a video trivia game being played by some customers a couple of booths over. I even knew the answer to one of the questions. (“George Brett! George Brett!”) Sigh. Bobby V would be so proud. – Laurie Barker James
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