It’s a mid-summer day when Ed Osterman steps into Oregon State Correctional Institution (OSCI). He puts his gear through a metal detector—pickleball paddles and balls included—and signs a waiver that says, essentially, “if you get held hostage, we won’t come in and get you.”
Osterman is greeted by a crowd that seems to personify the inclusive spirit of pickleball—old and young, lean and broad, long-haired and bald. The scene could be any local pickleball court but here it plays out in a dated gym where every player wears the same uniform. As a volunteer with the Pickleball for Incarcerated Communities League (PICL), Osterman is at OSCI to run a round robin clinic for ten inmates who’ve earned the privilege to participate.
The sport, often associated with suburban neighborhoods and retirees, has found an unlikely home behind bars.
Pickleball’s rise in prisons mirrors its national boom. Though it’s been played in a handful of correctional facilities for years, including Portland’s Columbia River Correctional Institution (CRCI) and Coffee Creek Correctional Facility, the sport has recently exploded in popularity thanks to grassroots efforts like PICL. What began as a novelty has become structured and widespread, now existing in over 40 facilities across a dozen states, including our very own Tennis City, Portland, Oregon.
“These guys, most of them are going to get out someday and they’re going to be your neighbor,” explained Osterman. “They’re going to have a better chance of integrating into society again if they have something social they can do and an outlet—that’s pickleball.”
One inmate shared with Osterman that he purposely avoided participating in most sports in prison, especially those like basketball, where direct contact could lead to conflicts and flare-ups of anger. “Pickleball is a little different,” said Osterman. “You’re not coming into physical contact with anyone. It’s a competitive and sometimes aggressive game, but you’re not banging up against someone like you would in basketball.”
Roger BelAir, co-founder of PICL, recalled a conversation with the warden at San Quentin, the oldest prison in California. The warden had shared with him that one of the top five highlights of his career was the day BelAir introduced pickleball to the prison.
“Basketball is dominated by the young, the tall, the athletic, and everyone else is left on the sidelines,” BelAir said. “The warden told me, he says, ‘I predict the number one sport to be played on the inside of prisons is going to be pickleball.’”
CRCI in Portland has offered pickleball for years—long before its recent rise in popularity. “I've been working here for almost 26 years, and it's always been here,” said James Hanley, CRCI’s Correctional Rehabilitation Coordinator.
“I remember the first time I saw pickleball was so long ago, and now it’s super popular,” added Hanley. “And I'm like, yeah, that came from prisons, I think.”
At CRCI, pickleball is a popular activity that provides opportunity for adults in custody to engage in healthy recreation. “If we have yard right now,” predicted Hanely, “I can guarantee you that there’s a pickleball game going on.”
In the eyes of many, pickleball and prison are a natural pair. The sport doesn’t take up much room. It’s simple to learn. It’s not at all violent. It’s fun. It’s all about community.
But for some, the incarcerated pickleball experience leaves much to be desired. An anonymous source who served a year at CRCI about a decade ago described the setup as “pretty crowded,” with only an hour of yard time per day and just one pickleball court available.
“Winner stays on” was the only format that was used, which means that stronger players dominated court time while others watched from the sidelines. Though he had a background in tennis and turned out to be one of the better pickleball players, he admitted he didn’t enjoy the activity much. The wind made the game frustrating, often carrying the ball off course, and he preferred the facility’s other racquet sport offering, ping pong. Since his release, he hasn’t touched a paddle—and doesn’t plan to.
Joint pain is also a consideration. Osterman recalled talking to an inmate about pickleball and ailments. “A lot of people have knee and hip problems from playing,” he said. But such problems, like everything else, are quite relative. One inmate joked to Offerman that he had problems with his knees, sure, but he’d also been shot at and stabbed. That made Osterman realize “where I was and who I was dealing with. These guys have had much different lives than I’ve had,” he said.
While some might imagine that a tennis court would be a welcome addition to a prison yard, others are quick to point out potential challenges.
Pickleball’s simplicity makes it accessible, and with room on one tennis court for four pickleball courts, it’s much more space efficient.
“Pickleball is pretty easy to set up, and it’s a low cost sport, and it’s easy to learn,” Osterman said. “So when you compare pickleball to tennis, it’s much more adaptable to a prison setting. I’d be surprised if there are any prisons that have tennis courts.” (As of right now, no Portland prisons have tennis courts.)
However, Osterman believes the skills from tennis can translate to pickleball. He recalls one inmate who had played a lot of tennis prior to becoming incarcerated. “That skill set carries over, and I could see it in his game too,” Osterman recalled. He said to the inmate, “I can see your tennis and how you’re playing, but maybe you want to do this for pickleball. It’s a little different than tennis.”
If nothing else, pickleball offers one indisputable benefit—the pleasure of a racquet sport. Most facilities don’t have a lot of options beyond weightlifting, jogging and basketball.
According to BelAir, the co-founder of the pickleball in prisons initiative, not all sports require the same level of concentration that racquet sports do. “When you’re playing tennis, you don't think about anything else other than just hitting the ball over the net,” he said. “So it’s an incredible mental release for the guys on the inside.”
That sense of mental relief is part of what continues to motivate Osterman. Later this summer, he plans to reach out to OSCI again about hosting another pickleball clinic for the inmates. “But I'd also like to try again at Coffee Creek,” he added, highlighting ongoing efforts to expand pickleball’s reach.
When asked if there were any tournaments or competitions between different prisons, such as between Coffee Creek and CRCI, CRCI’s rehab coordinator, Hanley, responded, “No, and I would love to see something like that happen.”
So there’s no inter-prison competition—yet. But perhaps it’s only a matter of time. Pickleball’s reach knows no bounds: not space, not time, not the many Portland tennis courts that are being taken over, not even the walls of a prison.
While pickleball offers a recreational outlet behind prison walls, the sport has also landed at least one individual behind bars.
Josuha Wallace, co-founder of Oregon Pickleball Club (OPC), is heading to prison after embezzling tens of thousands of dollars meant for the club. Wallace raised $50,000 from investors to launch OPC but then went on to use the funds for personal expenses, including gambling and credit card bills. Despite existing for just a year, OPC racked up over $120,000 in unpaid debts before dissolving in 2023. Wallace will serve 26 months at FCI Sheridan, a medium-security federal prison on the way to Lincoln City (which features pickleball courts). His lawyer declined to comment, stating, “We’re not interested in doing any media requests.”