It was by far the oddest baseball game I’ve ever witnessed. There, on a converted soccer field, were the familiar batters, fielders, a pitcher and catcher.
But only the spectators could see the game.
It is Beep Baseball, with players who are blind or visually impaired — and who trash the idea that you have to see in order to play ball.
Darren Keepers of La Verne founded the SoCal Beep Baseball Association because he longed to play baseball since losing his sight at age 5. So in 2018, the association’s Panthers was formed with players from Oxnard and Lancaster to Redlands with limited or no sight and who simply want to play the game. They practice at Pasadena’s McDonald Park, preparing to play in tournaments all over the nation.
“For many blind people, there is still a stigma that we are fragile, quiet, incapable, or need to be protected from the world,” says Keepers. “That has never matched the blind people I know. Blind people are parents, spouses, professionals, athletes, leaders, volunteers, and community builders. We live full lives. We just do some things differently.”
The Panthers are the only California team in the National Beep Baseball Association, a program founded in Minnesota 50 years ago to encourage and enable the blind to participate in rigorous physical activities. There are 25 teams in the U.S. and Puerto Rico.
“The ball beeps, the bases buzz, and players wear blindfolds so everyone competes on an equal playing field,” he says. “Athletes hit, run, dive, communicate, and compete hard. It is not fragile. It is loud, physical, emotional, and full of energy.”
But seriously, can someone who is blind really play a game so seemingly dependent on keen eyesight?
It’s actually possible because of the creation of a rather unusual ball. Slightly larger than a softball, it emits a beeping sound from the electronic gear hidden inside.
And batters do hit the beeping ball even without any visual clues. A pitcher (who is sighted) tosses a ball, yells “pitch,” and the batter directs his swing at the point where and when he hopes the bat and ball will meet.
I watched the batters often make contact with the ball and wondered whether my own baseball past could help me do any better. I was offered the chance to hit wearing a mask and my answer came quickly — my wife’s video of me taking seven wild, futile swings is simply embarrassing. Finally, after managing a foul tip on the eighth pitch, I declared victory and gave up. I might as well have been in a coal mine at midnight trying to swat a fly.
In each game, there’s an umpire who keeps the count. Batters get a little help because it’s four strikes for a strikeout, but there are no walks.
After hitting the ball fair, a batter takes off at top speed to one of the two 4-foot-high cushioned bases. He has nothing to guide him except for a different beep tone emitting from the base. If he hones in on the sound and touches the base before a fielder finds the ball, it’s a run. If a fielder tracks down the beeping ball and picks it up first, it’s an out.
The fielders out there try to capture the batted ball with only its beeping to direct them. As the sound of the ball approaches, they fall to the ground in hopes of corralling the ball.
“It’s not impossible, but you really can’t tense up when the ball is coming toward you,” said Victor Hernandez of Sylmar, who has played for the Panthers for four years. “You have to relax and listen, and you can find it.”
Everyone, even the fully blind, wears a black mask to ensure that any light can’t be used to assist a runner or fielder. Any partially sighted player wears a mask on the field.
At a recent tournament in Las Vegas, the Panthers finished in third place, winning their last game by scoring the deciding run on a poorly described “walkoff” victory. In truth, there was no walking at all. Panther Alex Marositz, after hitting the ball, raced off at top speed and knocked over the beeping base while the fielders were unable to find the ball.
Keepers, who is president of the SoCal Beep Baseball Association as well as a player, is also second vice president and public relations director of the national organization’s board of directors. He will tell you there’s more to the program than just playing ball.
“It gives people exercise, athletic competition and a reason to get outside,” he said. “But it also gives people friendships, confidence, structure and a support system.
“Many blind people face isolation, especially after vision loss. Coming to practice gives them a place where they are understood without having to explain themselves. They can meet other blind people who are working, raising families, traveling, using technology, going to school and living independent lives.”
Serving as an umpire at the Las Vegas tournament was Darnell Booker of Indiana who has been involved in the program for 41 years after he lost one eye from a BB gun incident as a 15-year-old. He became a player and then a coach of the Indy Thunder, six-time winners of the Beep Baseball World Series. (Yes, there’s even a yearly world championship.) Last year, he coached his team to the title with a 26-0 record.
“This sport has changed the lives of many people,” said Booker, recently inducted into the Beep Baseball Hall of Fame. “It provides those with limited or no vision a chance to build confidence from all the camaraderie and activity the game gives us. We just ask everyone to judge us on our abilities, not our disabilities.”
It is not an inexpensive sport. While a regular baseball might cost only a few bucks, the electronic beeping balls carry a hefty price tag at $42 apiece, and they’re not especially durable.
At the tournament in Las Vegas — which had teams from as far away as New York, Texas and Georgia — 35 of the balls fell silent after being hit so many times. That’s nearly $1,500 in “dead balls” at that tournament alone. The price tag for two of the beeping bases is about $500, Booker said.
Keepers said the SoCal Beep Baseball Association receives financial support from the Pasadena Host Lions Club, AT&T Pioneers Pacific Chapter, the Pasadena Community Foundation and the Tournament of Roses Foundation. The team’s uniforms — with a Pasadena City Hall and roses on the front — reflect their hometown sponsorship.
SCBBA also stages golf tournaments and other events to raise funds. Last year, there was a Dining in the Dark fundraiser in Pomona, where sighted guests wore blindfolds while eating their meal. Guests got a glimpse into navigating a meal without sight, while opening conversations about accessibility, independence, and everyday problem-solving skills blind people use throughout their lives.
Keepers said he is gratified that this program has enabled him to participate in sports, something he always desired in his youth in Rancho Cucamonga and while attending Alta Loma High School.
“Growing up I wanted to play organized sports so badly,” he explained, but his vision loss and other health challenges kept him on the sidelines. “This led me to playing ball in my parents’ front yard and eventually discovering Beep Baseball.” He also plays the drums in various garage bands after being a part of the jazz band while at Alta Loma High and Chaffey College.
He is also appreciative of the program’s volunteers — including his mother Lisa and dad Darrell (who is also the team’s pitcher). All the sideliners help guide players to the plate or to and from their positions, as well as cheer them on.
“We are not just building a sports program. We are building a community where blind and visually impaired people can be athletes, leaders, teammates, friends and role models,” he said.
“The Panthers and the SCBBA give people a place to compete, belong, and be seen for what they can do, not for what others assume they cannot do.”
For Hernardez, who still has lost all but a small portion of his vision for natural reasons, his dealing with his blindness all changed when he was introduced to Beep Baseball. He wasn’t much involved in athletics before he lost his sight, but that’s all changed with the Panthers.
“After I lost my sight, I ventured into what more I could do, and the Panthers have opened so many doors for me,” he explained. “To be part of something so growing, so large, it means I have more of a purpose in life.”