MIAMI — When Miami-Dade County voters decide Jan. 29 whether to join Broward voters in allowing Las Vegas-style slot machines into their three ailing pari-mutuels, they may be the last Floridians to have that choice.

Or, they may be leading a stampede, showing the way for the Sanford-Orlando Kennel Club, Melbourne Greyhound Park, Daytona Beach Kennel Club and the 16 other pari-mutuels outside of South Florida to reach for the same life preserver.

Roll the dice because predicting what will happen in the new age of gaming now dawning in Florida is a crap shoot. Nobody knows for sure what numbers will come up.

"It's all up in the air," said state Sen. Dennis Jones, R-Seminole, chairman of the Senate Regulated Industries Committee.

The uncertainty comes from the agreement Gov. Charlie Crist signed in November with the Seminole Indians allowing the tribe to replace its bingo video lottery terminals with Vegas-style slots and add card games including blackjack and baccarat at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Tampa and six other tribal casinos in South Florida. Video lottery terminals, or VLTs, are electronic games of chance that can include traditional card games and poker. VLT players compete against each other, which results in smaller payouts than Vegas-style slots in which players go against the house.

Crist had a choice of negotiating a deal for expanded Indian gaming in exchange for a slice of the revenue, or letting the federal government approve the slots — but no card games — without a dime for the state. He chose the money.

Under the agreement, the tribe will pay Florida $385 million during the first three years, and at least $100 million a year thereafter. In return, the tribe has the exclusive right to expanded gaming. In other words, if new gaming is allowed anywhere outside of Miami-Dade, which is exempted, the state would forfeit the tribal money.

But the Florida House is suing to void the agreement because, lawmakers contend, it needed legislative approval. Arguments are scheduled before the Florida Supreme Court on Jan. 30. The court's ruling will have no bearing on the vote in Miami-Dade, but both are being watched with great interest — or longing — by the state's pari-mutuel industry.

That's because if the high court rules that the Legislature indeed has approval power, lawmakers will have the chance to approve, reject or modify the deal. And for the pari-mutuels, that would provide an opportunity to renew their pitch: Forget tribal money and allow all of the pari-mutuels to offer video lottery terminals, or VLTs, in their facilities. The state could reap more than $1 billion a year in extra revenue, according to state economists.

"They can play with $100 million from the Indians every year or $1 billion from the pari-mutuels," said Patrick Biddix, general manager of the Melbourne dog track. "That's the game plan — that the economic demand will dictate that they abandon the Indian compact in favor of VLTs."

Sen. Jones is already drafting a bill authorizing VLTs in existing pari-mutuels in case the high court rules against the governor.

Although House leaders oppose expanded gaming, they support local rule. That's why the vice chair of the Senate committee, Steven Geller, D-Hallandale Beach, believes the lower chamber would approve VLTs in pari-mutuels if voters in the counties where the new machines would go have a chance to accept or reject them.

If the agreement with the Seminoles holds up, though, Miami-Dade residents may be the last to vote on the issue. And it may be the last chance for Flagler Dog Track, Calder Race Course and Miami Jai-Lai, which, like all the state's pari-mutuels, have long been suffering steep declines in attendance and revenue.

In the past decade alone, state revenue from pari-mutuel wagering has plummeted from $76.3 million to $27.6 million. In contrast, slots in just three Broward pari-mutuels have pumped $105 million into state education coffers since the first machines began jingling at Gulfstream Park in November 2005.

Broward's pari-mutuels won the right to add slots to its offerings after state voters narrowly amended the state constitution in 2004 to allow them in Miami-Dade and Broward with local voter approval. In March 2005, Broward voters said yes, but Miami-Dade voters turned down the measure, with credit — or blame — for the defeat going to former Gov. Jeb Bush.

A resident of Greater Miami, he mounted a vigorous, last-minute opposition campaign, warning that slots would unravel the economic and social fabric of the state, and open the door to expanded Indian gaming. It did the latter. Federal law allows tribes to offer the same gambling options their states permit elsewhere, so the Broward vote forced Crist to the negotiating table.

Now in private business, Bush is gearing up for round two. On Thursday, he issued his first statement on the ballot question, urging fellow Miamians to vote against the measure "so that we may continue to protect our community and our families." He is joined in his opposition by former governor and U.S. Senator Bob Graham, and coalitions of family values, Christian, anti-gambling and animal-protection groups.

But this time, proponents, who include an array of local leaders, say they're prepared for what they call the "scare tactics" employed by Bush and other gambling foes. Armed with more than $5 million contributed by the Calder and Flagler tracks for an advertising and education blitz, they argue slots would create thousands of new jobs, and pump millions into local governments, businesses and state education coffers.

"We will profit from a stronger economy," said former U.S. Congresswoman Carrie Meek, D-Miami, hired as pro-slots consultant in the black community.

If the referendum passes, Flagler alone plans an $80 million-plus expansion for its aging facility, which boasts more employees — 385 — than patrons on most days.

As such, Flagler's Barbara Havenick says the track her father bought in 1952 will not survive without slots. "Broward County has seen only benefits," she said. "Now, it's our turn."

The benefits of Broward's slots are debatable. Saddled with debt from capital improvements and having to pay the state half the money brought in plus other fees, the pari-mutuels are barely breaking even, Geller said. They haven't become the resort destinations and philanthropic contributors that the Seminole's Hard Rock in Hollywood is — at least not yet.

But Jones calls them an unqualified success. After all, he notes, Broward's three pari-mutuels already are sending nearly four times more revenue to Tallahassee annually than the other pari-mutuels combined.

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