The Power of Goalball

By Sue Wiygul Martin

The onset of a disability in adulthood often brings with it the loss of more than just the affected ability. With the onset of my blindness in 1982, I immediately put several activities on my list of activities in which I could no longer participate.

One such group of activities were those related to recreation, and especially competitive sports. Before the onset of my blindness I enjoyed riding, canoeing, and swimming, both competitively and recreationally. But how could I do these sports now? I dismissed them from my mind.

I felt the void though. Not only was I not getting the exercise to which I was accustomed, but also I was missing the socialization that accompanied participation in these various recreational activities. I sorely missed the camaraderie at the stable and the horseplay at the takeout at the end of a canoeing trip. "Well, it's just too bad," I thought. "I can't do that anymore."

At the insistence of friends, family, and my own inner prompting, I tried swimming again. I learned that once I got in the pool, I was fine. I could swim to my heart's content, contacting the lane rope every few strokes to make sure I kept straight. This restored a much-needed physical activity. I felt my body begin to shape up as I swam regularly.

But this was a solitary activity. I swam my laps, showered and left the gym sometimes without speaking a word to anyone else.

Then, in 1984, I was introduced to goalball. Goalball is a competitive team sport designed for blind athletes. Everyone who plays wears a blindfold, so everyone is on the same visual footing. It is a goal-oriented game, with each team trying to get the ball past their opponents' goal line.

The game is played with a ball that has bells in it, so sound localization is vital. The court is about the size of a volleyball court and is laid out on a gym floor by taping ropes down on the floor. The players can maintain their orientation by touching the ropes with hands, feet, or knees. There are three players on each team, usually a forward who plays in the center and two wings who play a little further back on the court.

The ball cannot be thrown, but must be rolled in an effort to get it over the opposing team's back line. When playing, defense, a player listens until he/she has a "fix" on the ball and then tries to block the ball by throwing themselves in its path.

It's a very fast, rough game. I later learned that the ball can travel at speeds of 45 to 55 m.p.h. I approached my first practice with skepticism. How could a bunch of blind folks play a competitive sport? The old timers showed me how to block and throw.

Once I got the hang of the game, we divided into teams and started playing. At first I depended a lot on my teammates who had played this crazy game before. I soon learned to keep my concentration on the sound of the ball as it was thrown towards me by the opposing team. I learned to pass the ball to a teammate if I was off balance after I blocked it.

I learned that I should slap the floor when a teammate called my name so they would know where I was in order to pass the ball to me. I once again felt the thrill of team success and the determination of team spirit.

I recall feeling the camaraderie of a shared activity. I even enjoyed the sore muscles of the day after. My goalball experience gave me something else which is much broader than a specific sport.

Since that winter of '84-'85, I have tried many of my old sports again and found that they are, indeed, possible. I've resumed hiking, horseback riding, canoeing, and bicycling (on a tandem). I've water-skied a few times and even added snow skiing to the list of activities I can do.

It wasn't particularly difficult to learn to do these sports without vision. Mostly, it just took getting out there and trying them. The confidence and fortitude to make the effort could have come from any recreational activity.

Success breeds success. For me the catalyst was goalball.

[Sue Wiygul Martin lives in Ellsworth, Maine.]