David Wanczyk

Beep


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      BEEP

       BEEP

      Inside the Unseen World of Baseball for the Blind

       David Wanczyk

      SWALLOW PRESS • OHIO UNIVERSITY PRESS • ATHENS

      Swallow Press

      An imprint of Ohio University Press, Athens, Ohio 45701

      ohioswallow.com

      © 2018 by David Wanczyk

      All rights reserved

      To obtain permission to quote, reprint, or otherwise reproduce or distribute material from Swallow Press / Ohio University Press publications, please contact our rights and permissions department at (740) 593-1154 or (740) 593-4536 (fax).

      Printed in the United States of America

      Swallow Press / Ohio University Press books are printed on acid-free paper

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       Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Names: Wanczyk, David, 1982- author.

      Title: Beep : inside the unseen world of baseball for the blind / David Wanczyk.

      Description: Athens, Ohio : Swallow Press, Ohio University Press, 2017. | Includes index.

      Identifiers: LCCN 2017027939| ISBN 9780804011891 (hardback) | ISBN 9780804040822 (pdf)

      Subjects: LCSH: Baseball for people with visual disabilities. | Baseball players—Biography. | Blind athletes—Biography. | BISAC: SPORTS & RECREATION / Baseball / General. | SOCIAL SCIENCE / People with Disabilities.

      Classification: LCC GV880.75 .W36 2017 | DDC 796.357/8—dc23

      LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017027939

      For my parents

      Perhaps my sun shines not as yours. The colors that glorify my world, the blue of the sky, the green of the fields, may not correspond exactly with those you delight in; but they are none the less color to me. The sun does not shine for my physical eyes, nor does the lightning flash, nor do the trees turn green in the spring; but they have not therefore ceased to exist, any more than the landscape is annihilated when you turn your back on it.

       —Helen Keller

      You could be a kid for as long as you want when you play baseball.

      —Cal Ripken Jr.

      Contents

       List of Illustrations

       One: The Underdogs

       WARMING UP: The Kid

       ONE: The Eyes of Texas

       TWO: The Rookies

       THREE: The Summer of ’64

       FOUR: The Soul of Hoosier Beep Ball

       FIVE: This Is Our Beeping City

       Two: The Whole Beeping World

       BETWEEN INNINGS: The Dad

       SIX: An Eagle, the Buddha, a Rock, and the Girls

       SEVEN: The Blind Boys of Summer

       Three: The Green Fields of the Mind

       SEVENTH-INNING STRETCH: The Comeback

       EIGHT: The Rough Patches

       NINE: A Sense of Victory

       EXTRA INNINGS: The Return of Homerun

       The Champions of Beep Baseball

       Acknowledgments

       Index

      Illustrations

       Lupe Perez, Austin Blackhawks

       Rock Kuo, Taiwan Homerun

       Ethan Johnston, Colorado Storm

       Kevin Sibson, Austin Blackhawks

       John Ross with Babe Ruth

       Joe McCormick, Boston Renegades

       Rob Weissman and Darnell Booker, Boston Renegades and Indy Thunder

       One

      The Underdogs

      WARMING UP

      The Kid

      WHEN I CLOSED my eyes as a kid, I heard baseball.

      In the summer, my dad would put me to bed in the fourth inning of Red Sox games, but once he’d left the room I’d flip on my clock radio and friendly Sox announcer Joe Castiglione would tell me about another Wade Boggs double off the Green Monster, another run-scoring blooper to right. It seemed as though the Red Sox were always playing the Minnesota Twins, and they always trailed 4–3. But catching up was the best part. I’d listen to Roger Clemens’s fastball popping into the catcher’s mitt and do a sleepy eight-year-old’s fist pump with every strike. Some people say they dream in color, but I dreamed in baseball chatter, the broadcast sound of a rundown and a staticky seeing-eye single through the left side.

      I spent the days announcing my own backyard baseball triumphs—Here’s Wanczyk, riding a 55-game hit streak. I crushed home runs into a rhododendron, rounded the third-base tree stump in slo-mo, and chest-bumped a ghost runner. It should have told me something about my baseball future, though, that even in my pretend world, I pretty often whiffed. When that happened, I’d announce in Castiglione’s affably nasal voice that the ball had been “ruled foul,” and I’d pick up a clutch single on my fourth strike.

      Pretty soon, baseball changed for me. By age ten I’d have tantrums over Little League, thinking I should have been the one pitching instead of whichever coach’s kid was on the mound, but when I got my chance