Advocates for the Deaf Want Hall of Fame to Get the Sign

COOPERSTOWN – Thirty pairs of eyes picked up the signals, but they weren’t for a hit-and-run or a sacrifice bunt.

The signals were sign language, more graceful than the cap-touching and belly-rubbing that goes on at the top dugout step, and Carrie Blakesley was using it to relate the Baseball Hall of Fame’s Induction Ceremony to a group of about 30 deaf baseball fans Sunday.

Blakesley, a sign-language teacher from Albany, signed most of the proceeding for the group, which was attending the ceremonies to lobby for the election of a deaf 19th-century ballplayer to the hall of fame. She saw the signs and flyers in support of William “Dummy” Hoy and volunteered her time.

“They were disappointed that there wasn’t an interpreter out there.” said Blakesley. “I told them before I’m not up on baseball terms (in sign language) so there would be lot of fingerspelling.”

Many in the group to whom Blakesley was signing were with a Rochester-based committee seeking credit for Hoy, who played from 1888 to 1902 and easily had the greatest career of a seriously-handicapped player. Bob Panara, leader of the American Athletic Association for the Deaf (AAAD) (currently called the United States of America Deaf Sports Federation (USADSF)) Committee for Dummy Hoy, said the group had spoken to hall officials about getting a sign-language interpreter or closed-captioning for the video screen by the main stage.

Panara, who is deaf, signed through an interpreter that his group distributed flyers touting Hoy before last year’s ceremony, but was asked to stop this year. They waved signs from an area to the left of the main stage as this year’s inductees accepted their plaques.

When Hoy played, umpires shouted their calls – ball, strike or out – with no gestures. To more clearly understand the count on him when he was hitting, Hoy asked for umpires to gesture with their right fist – still used today for “strike” and “out.”

Though pioneering in that regard, Hoy’s 12-year career has its own merits, supporters say. Hoy was a lifetime .288 hitter with 2,044 hits and 594 stolen bases.

Rochester’s Don Clupper, who is deaf, signed through Blakesley that it was just as important to select Hoy for his significance to deaf culture as it is to enshrine him for his talents.

“Both are equal.” he signed. “if he’s accepted on his statistics, that’s good. But deaf people look on him as a role model. He inspires them to athletic competition. And you look at his statistics and say, what is the difference between the deaf and the hearing?”

Maybe so, but pressure on the Hall or its voters to admit certain players has been marginally successful, and generally not well-received. Pete Rose’s cause has been in vain since his banishment in 1989; ditto for Joe Jackson, a conspirator in the fixed World Series of 1919.

George Davis, a seemingly-forgetten shortstop from the turn of the century, was elected this year with help from a campaign aimed at Veteran’s Committee voters. A baseball group aiding the cause

A baseball group aiding the cause recently advertised a meeting with “Who should we elect next?” — a remark that did not go over well with Hall brass.

Hoy is different than those cases, Panara’s group said.

“William Hoy is to deaf America what Jackie Robinson is to black America.” said flyers handed out this year. “Jackie broke the color barrier and ‘Dummy’ broke the communication barrier.”

The communication barrier was easily hurdled Sunday, thanks to Blakesley and some others. But, they said, the hall should help out deaf fans who attended induction ceremonies.

Hall spokesman Jeff Idelson said closed-captioning for the video screens is problematic, because the hall doesn’t have copies of induction speeches before they are read. Idelson said a sign-language interpreter “should be considered and will be considered.

“The last thing the hall of fame wants to do is alienate any contingency of fans,” Idelson said.