You’ve got to wonder what Steve Wynn of Las Vegas and Macau must have thought about his virgin trip to the land of Foxborough.
Wynn is one of the world’s foremost collectors of fine art, a remarkably sophisticated businessman who single-handedly transformed the gambling industry in Vegas with his vision of service-oriented, themed hotels, a stickler for design and architecture who owns some of the world’s most upscale resort casinos.
And there he was, apparently getting compared by his new friend, Bob Kraft, to the mumbling and socially-challenged Patriots coach, Bill Belichick, in what was undoubtedly meant as a compliment. Wear that hoodie proudly, Steve. At the same time, he was dealing with a bunch of local officials who should be commended for not asking the natural question: “Any chance we could get a picture together?’’
Wynn was long gone by Monday afternoon, so I called him in Las Vegas. I could all but hear the press assistant slowly whispering the words “Country Bumpkin’’ and “Palookaville’’ as she was supposed to be writing down my name and Boston Globe. Hard to believe that a day later, I had yet to get a call back.
But in his absence there remained a question for the good people of Foxborough: Do you want a billion dollar resort casino or not? And though he didn’t say it exactly this way, his message was clear: Chop-chop, time’s a wasting, hurry up and make up your minds.
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