What is Beeper Ball

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The Sounds of Summer

By Brian McMahon

They are the sounds of summer in Mt. Echo park on Cincinnati’s west side: the crack of the bat, the shouts of eager players out in the field, the swift

crunching of grass under the feet of the base runner, the authoritative verdict of the umpire, “out” or “safe”, and the high pitched beeping. The ball

beeps, short pulsating squelches. The bases beep, long, strained tones. This is a fun Saturday in park. This is regular people enjoying America’s favorite

pastime. This is beep baseball. A game in which the visually impaired, blind and sighted coming together on an otherwise completely predictable ballfield.

Think baseball, with just as much strategy and skill required, only a slightly modified, simplified set up. Beep baseball, also called “beeper ball”, or

just “beep ball,” like any good sport, seeks to improve mobility, coordination, responsibility and teamwork. Also, as any good sport, it is about having

fun while being competitive, about having a good physical and mental outlet. Its players are teenagers and senior citizens, sighted volunteers and those

who have been life-long visually impaired. It’s a sport that in many ways is like any other, and in just as many ways is entirely different.

It’s also a game that’s being played across the country and even around the world. In Ohio alone a quick jaunt up Interstate 71 from Cincinnati, through

Columbus and on up to Cleveland, the home of this year’s beeper baseball World Series, will take you through the territory of three different beeper ball

clubs. They each play with different levels of competition, subscribe to different strategies and have their own unique histories and honors.

“Back in 1985 word got out that someone wanted to start a beeper baseball team,” says Terry Davis, who has played in the Cincinnati area for more than

20 years and before that in Columbus where he attended the Ohio School for the Blind. “Word got around and we started talking to all kinds of people. We

got volunteers to come out; they didn’t know one thing from another, and we got a hold of some rules from the USABA [United States Association of Blind

Athletes].” It’s no surprise, looking at Davis, to learn that he has been a life-long athlete. Just shy of five and a half feet, Davis has tell-tale barrel

round arms, widened shoulders and impeccably sturdy posture after a long day of work. He may be too self-effacing to say it, but you get the sense he’s

good when it comes to beep baseball.

Pitching opposite Davis for much of those 20 plus years of beep baseball on Cincinnati’s west side has been Jim Cable. For him, getting into playing beeper

ball was more of just a whim. “A guy that I was working for had a community service organization memo he passed around and I responded,” Cable says. Now

Cable is one of the head coordinators for the Cincinnati team.

Philip Gates was attracted to the game for more specific reasons. “When I first lost my sight I joined the American Council of the Blind Ohio Greater

Cincinnati Chapter,” he says. “I met some of the beeper ball players. They encouraged me to come out and give it a try. I lost my sight at the age of 30,

at this time I played softball three nights a week. I love the sport of baseball and this gave me a chance to play again on a different level.”

Two hours north in Columbus, home of the Vipers beeper ball team, Dan Kelley got into beep baseball a little differently. Blind from birth, Kelley still

has had a lifelong passion for sports and staying active. “I was trying to start a track club for blind people and one of the guys that I recruited was

playing beep baseball,” he recalls. “I didn’t think it was a very competitive sport. The first time I hit the ball I was hooked.” Kelley has been president

of the Central Ohio Beep Ball Association (COBBA) for the past three years. The Vipers, around since 1993, are an official National Beep Ball Association

(NBBA) team, the organization that sets the rules and standards and helps to organize the annual beep baseball World Series tournament.

A few more hours up I-71 in Cleveland, home of the 2006 Beep Baseball World Series, the Scrappers play a very competitive brand of beeper ball. The Scrappers

secretary and long time player Wilbert Turner, also blind from birth, didn’t get into the game until his 30’s, but has loved it ever since. “I had heard

about it at the sight center. One day I ran into an individual who invited me to practice,” he recalls. “Initially I didn’t know anything about it, but

I’ve always considered myself an athlete. Once I got out there and observed it I really liked it.” Turner has been playing since the ’86 season, just a

few years after the scrappers played their first season in Cleveland

Beep baseball is a game as complex in nature as the baseball it was inspired by, with several practical adjustments that allow players to rely solely on

sense and sound to play the game. The NBBA’s website (www.nbba.org) is full of comprehensive rules, guidelines and articles on strategy ,but, in brief,

beep baseball works like this: The batting team uses their own pitcher, who is sighted, and pitches the ball underhand to the batter, who is blindfolded

regardless of his or her ability to see. The ball is roughly twice the size of a softball with a beeping mechanism placed inside so it can be clearly heard.

The batter gets four strikes and one pass ball they can choose not to swing at. The field consists of two bases instead of three, with first base a hundred

feet off to the right down the foul line and third base a hundred feet off to the left down the foul line. The bases themselves, roughly four feet high,

are foam rubber cylinders that give off a steady high frequency drone when activated. The batter must reach the base before the ball is fielded to score

a run. However, he or she does not know which base will turn on until after the ball is hit, adding to the challenge of the game.

The outfield consists of six fielders, all blindfolded, and one or two sighted spotters. The spotters may call only one number to alert the fielders to

the corresponding zone or player that the ball lands near. They may say nothing else. The fielders then converge on the ball and must pick it up off the

ground and hold it away from their body before the runner reaches the base to get the out. Each team gets three outs per inning and games last six innings.

One of the biggest differences from baseball is the increased need for cooperation and communication in every aspect of the game, inverting the usual power

struggles such as pitcher vs. batter. “As a pitcher I ask the batter to give me a couple of swings to try to get a consistent spot,” Cable says. “It’s

just a matter of timing. When I say ready, they start their swing.” Cable says he and teammate Davis have developed a pretty good cadence over the years

that comes from a lot practice and getting to know his swing. “Once you and your pitcher get into a rhythm, you can get pretty good,” says Davis, who connects

on about 80 percent of Cable’s pitches.

Davis is quick to acknowledge that it’s this type of communication players rely on to make the game work. “A lot of people think, ‘I can just listen for

the ball,” Davis says. It’s one of the things that also throws off the blindfolded sighted players as well. “The biggest problem is sighted people trying

to just listen for the ball,” Cable says.

Instinct can get you in trouble in other ways, too, in the game of beep baseball. Once you make contact with the ball you’ve got to run as fast as you

can 100 feet toward a steady tone in the pitch dark, not exactly a natural thing to do. “We coach them to when you hit the ball, you first take a split

second to hear when your base come on then you run to it. A lot of them like to stand there for a few seconds, you know, and they’re wasting valuable time,”

Davis says. “I run all-out, myself. If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it all the way.”

“You tell them they’re foam rubber,” Cable says, referring to the four-foot-high humming bases that players touch, tip or tackle to score the run. “I point

out to them there’s nothing between you and that base.” Still it requires considerable intuition to develop good beep ball playing skills and sometimes

this means overcoming other strong habits. “When I hit my first ball the third base was beeping,” Phil Gates recalls. “In that case you should run to the

base that is beeping. Well, I was used to playing softball and I started to run to first, and half the way to first I remember that I should run to third

base. I must have looked like a chicken with his head cut off when I took off for third.”

As involved as the batting side of the game is, the defensive side of beeper baseball has enough varied and nuanced strategies that could keep EPSN hosts

analyzing and arguing for months. The typical defense setup has the six fielders in a baseball-like fashion: first base, shortstop (in the position where

second base would be), third base and then left, right and center field. The spotter calls out a number one through six that corresponds to one of the

players and their zone, and then the players converge to field it. This, however, is just a basic view of how the defense functions: eventually football

developed the west coast offense, basketball went man or zone, and beeper baseball defense too is under the constant improvement of enterprising minds.

In Cincinnati it came to simplifying and streamlining play. “The last three years we’ve been doing a three-zone set up,” Davis says. “First base and right

field is zone one. And then right up the middle, second and center is zone two and then third and left field is zone three.” Cable says the major benefit

of the three-zone system is that there are “fewer numbers for the spotter to remember and it encompasses more people.”

Beyond just the setup strategy there’s an even more important factor in successfully fielding a hit ball, a key factor in many sports: good teamwork. “Just

because the ball is over there doesn’t mean zone three can’t move over to zone one and help defend the ball,” Davis says. “We talk to each other so we

know where we’re at and so we don’t collide heads and hurt each other. Sometimes plays happen so fast you don’t get the chance to say anything.”

Up in Columbus, Viper territory, they do things a little bit differently. “I’m kind of experimenting with the people I have this year,” coach Dan Kelley

says. He has two fielders on each side between 70 and 80 feet back, then two more at 110 to 115, one placed in the middle and one fielder way back to field

the deep balls. All this he says with an incredible sense of precision and perception for a man who was born without the gift of sight. You get the sense

Kelley could easily be that coach that doodles X’s and O’s on his drink napkin and whose approach to the game plans begin with an intrepid “what if?” “I

also thought about one person at 85 feet up the middle and staggering two people to the left and right 10 or fifteen feet,” he says, explaining another

setup that moves the center coverage of the field a little closer to the plate. “I’ve got a lot of new guys and I’m trying to figure out the best place

to put them right now.”

The Vipers also inventively get as much mileage as they can out of the spotter’s call. “A good spotter can tell you how the ball is hit, whether it’s a

high pop up or a line drive,” Kelley says. He explains how their spotters change the tenor of their call to match the path of the ball, a short, curt “three”

for a grounder or line drive hit toward zone three, or an elongated “threeeee,” for a high pop up over the zone. “He’s not breaking the rules,” Kelley

says. “He’s just kind of drawing a picture of where the ball is.”

And up in Cleveland, the Scrappers have their own method of calling balls. There they use the more common six-number system with players in standard positions

because, as player and club treasurer Wilbert Turner says, they figure the more numbers the easier it is to give an exact location of the ball. The Scrappers’

defense also makes use of having two spotters; the one on the right makes calls for balls that go to the right side of the field and the one of the left

alerts players when the ball is hit toward the left side of the field. “Probably the only distinguishing that’s not made is whether it’s long or short,”

Turner says, referring to the strategy of using the spotters’ intonation to clue the fielders of how the ball is hit. He notes that a strategy like this

usually works best only when the spotters and fielder can work together on a consistent basis enough to know how the calls should sound.

However, a team places its defense or calls its numbers, the style of play is still the same: down and dirty, high speed, full contact, and even at times

a little dangerous. “You’re supposed to be able to block it with your body, especially if it’s a roller, rolling on the ground,” Davis says about fielding

the ball. “You’re supposed to throw yourself down on the ground and block it. You have to be kind of tough about it. Knowing going into the game, playing

the game, it’s going to be contact. If you don’t like throwing yourself down on the ground or getting hit by the ball, whatever, then maybe beeper baseball

isn’t for you.”

Contact can be anything from the security of tackling the base to the surprise of getting tackled by a teammate. “We had a volunteer pitcher, turned his

back on the batter after he hit. The guy ran up the middle and plowed right into him,” Cable recalls. In fact the pitcher, being only 20 feet from the

plate instead of the 60 feet in baseball, is one of the more vulnerable positions in the field. “I started wearing a catcher’s mask,” says Cable, who has

had to dodge quiet a few threatening line drives right up the middle. “I have, on more than one occasion, caught the ball on instinct and self preservation.”

And Cable is quick to emphasize the importance placed on protecting all the players. “We make it fun; we also highly stress safety.” If the batter is about

to collide with something or someone on their way to base, the spotter may yell “stop” and similar signals are worked out to warn the fielders of a dangerously

directed line drive or imminent head on collision. These are the only things a spotter may say besides the number, and it’s generally accepted that a run

given up is better than an injury.

Sometimes the bad hops and lucky bounces lead to equally amazing plays or memorable bloopers. “Early in my career I was playing centerfield and a ball

was hit down the left field toward a brook,” the Cleveland Scrappers Turner says. “I ran over to field it and, not being able to see the brook, I slid

down the hill and the ball hit me in the hand and I got the out. It’s one of those once- in-a-lifetime catches.”

Cincinnati’s Davis remembers one of those as well, at least an almost-once-in-lifetime catch. By far the most difficult balls to field are the high pop

ups, because the defense must wait until they land to begin pursuing the ball, but it is still a fantasy of many a beep ball player to catch the ball on

the fly. Doing so automatically ends the inning for the batting team. So for Davis, it was quite the surprise when the ball hit right into to his shoulder

during one game. “It rolled right down my arm and by the time I reacted, it went down to the ground,” he says.

The Columbus Vipers’ Kelley is one of the few players who does know the improbable satisfaction of catching a beep ball on the fly, whether by luck or

skill or a little bit of both. “In ’96 I was given credit for catching a fly ball,” Kelley says. “It landed on me and I didn’t let it touch the ground.

It landed on my leg and made it swell up.”

“We actually had one play where the batter hit a short grounder that hit the third baseman in the stomach,” Cincinnati’s Cable recalls. “He went ‘oomph’

but everyone thought he said ‘out.’ The fielders stopped field and the runners stopped running.”

There are other intricacies to beep baseball that you won’t find anywhere else. “We play over in Mt. Echo where we must be in a flight pattern [for the

airport],” says Terry Davis. “Sometimes those planes come in so loud we can’t hear the ball, so the captains usually call a time out.” And he adds, with

a smile, “Once in a while we’ll tease when we hear the ice cream truck. ‘Ice cream time out’.”

This also has implications for fan reaction in a game that relies so heavily on sound. “Since the fielders need to be able to hear, when a person is batting

you cannot yell,” says Phil Gates of the Cincinnati team. “After the play is finished then you can make your comments. I guess it might be like a tennis

match; you are not allow to talk during a service in tennis but after it is over you can clap or cheer.”

“It’s just like any other sport,” says Wilbert Tunes of the Scrappers. “We get kind of hyped up, we scream at the umpire’s calls, just like any other sport,”

he says.

Also, as in any good sport, beeper ball is about fun, but it also goes beyond just a casual recreational activity for those who play it, both sighted and

visually impaired. “I guess when I went blind, I didn't think there was anything a blind person could do for fun,” Gates says. “I really felt sorry for

myself. But there is something out there for everybody. You’ve just got to get up and find what it is. There are people out there when they see a blind

person they want to baby that person, but I think most people want to be respected, not pitied. Don't get me wrong: We all need help at some time, but

there are things we can do, and when us blind or any other person do something for ourselves it gives a sense of pride. After playing beeper ball I felt

good about myself and it gave me self-confidence to go to school and get degree and a job.”

“For me, I’m a competitive person,” Kelley says. “It’s an outlet for that. I just love being outdoors.” But he also points to the broader importance of

having a game like beeper ball for the visually impaired to play. “It’s age appropriate for folks across the board. There’s a lot of modeling in sports.

People feel that they can’t do something and they get to model, get to see what these blind people are doing. It teaches people responsibility; it builds

up communication and mobility skills. You have to be self-reliant to play this game. That’s the one thing I think blind people lack is self-reliance.”

“I think the benefit for the visually impaired is it gives you a sense of security and improves your self esteem,” Cleveland’s Turner says. “We’ve had

some people come out who don’t leave home, and improve their mobility.” He also adds that it can be an equally important experience for the sighted volunteers

who come out. “It makes them realize if you’re visually impaired you’re not crippled, you’re not mentally challenged. It’s kind of educational.”

“I think it taught me that these guys are no different than you or I but they can’t see,” says Cable about his 20 plus years pitching for beep baseball

in Cincinnati. “They have the same faults and shortcomings. I’ve made a lot of friends doing this.”

Unfortunately putting together a beeper baseball team and keeping it going is not always easy or cheap. The Qwest Pioneers, based out of Denver, manufacture

the beeping balls and have been a sponsor of the sport since it’s inception in 1964. “The Pioneers take a loss on every ball,” Cable says. It cost $45

to manufacture a ball and they are resold for only $35. The large foam rubber droning bases are manufactured by the Arnold Center in Michigan and can be

purchased for $465 a pair, plus shipping. A significant startup cost, but one must also account for the violent swing of a bat against the fragile electronic

beeping element nestled inside the ball. “We at times will go throw a dozen balls,” Cable says. “They’re unpredictable; we can have a ball that will last

the whole game and one that will break on the first try.”

Then there’s the additional cost of uniforms for the competitive teams, traveling and even hosting tournaments. In Columbus, Lyons Clubs and local businesses

have helped keep beep ball going strong. “It’s very important to have these in-roads into community businesses,” Kelley says. Kelley and the Vipers were

fortunate enough to be able to raise enough money to make it to the World Series one year in Taiwan. “We’re a 501c3 non-profit,” Kelley says. “So donations

are tax deductible,” as is the case with many beep ball clubs.

This year Cleveland will host the World Series of beep baseball, and that’s not without its price tag either. The last time they hosted it cost $40,000

according to Turner, the Secretary for the Scrappers. While they also draw support from local businesses and the Lyons Club it was a tremendous relief

when an anonymous donor put up $20,000 toward the tournament.

In Cincinnati it’s the local telephone provider Cincinnati Bell that has sponsored the team for years. Unlike Columbus and Cleveland they remain unaffiliated

with the NBBA and play mostly blindfolded teams of sighted players from local businesses and softball teams. “A lot of us simply come out and socialize

and have fun,” Cable says.

Money isn’t the only obstacle to fielding a beep baseball team. Despite the impact it has had on the lives of so many of its players, it remains difficult

to get the word out enough and get enough new players year after year. Most organizations use the radio reading service for the visually impaired to promote

their club, but all three teams in Ohio will unanimously agree that their biggest source of publicity and recruitment is “word of mouth.”

The Scrappers have had up to 14 players in a season and the Vipers, with the School for the Blind in Columbus to fielding 9 to 14 players in the past few

seasons. In Cincinnati, the turnout has decreased considerably over the past years. There is a faint hit of despondency in Jim Cable’s voice when he talks

about this, that there aren’t as many newcomers to share in the fun and good times they’ve had on the west side for so long. But Cable, like Kelley and

Turner, will admit that that is just a part of life: Volunteers and players move away or have families and jobs or just get too old to play. “We’ve had

kids leave because they go away to college,” Tuner says, perhaps a dozen memorable faces on his mind. “They’re not always easily replaced.”

“I do hope it will continue,” says Cable, who is getting close to retiring from the sport. “Hopefully we’ve got a few volunteers, somebody who’s willing

to do the handling,” he says referring to the need for someone to pick up and drop off some of the visually impaired players for practice and games.

Davis also emphasizes his hope that the game will continue to grow in the city. “It’s getting it out there so that people realize you know hey this game

is available if you want to come out and learn how to play it and have fun and plus be able to socialize and meet new people,” he says. “That’s one good

thing about it. Having the ability to socialize with people like yourselves. I would hope that we could get the interest enough where we could have more

than just one team throughout the city. Make a little beeper ball league. Have enough players come out where we can play other beeper baseball teams around

the area.”

Up in Cleveland, Tuner also feels strongly about getting the game out to more visually impaired people, if only in an even broader context. “We’d like

to see other teams in other cities,” he says. “My dream is to see every major city in the country have a competitive beep ball team.”

Certainly you could look at beep baseball as a social commentary, as part of an inspirational agenda or even as an act of charity, but maybe the most important

way to see it sometimes is just as it is, a game. “The first time I went out to volunteer,” Jim Cable says. “Ever since I’ve been playing ball with friends.”