Carmel Cracks Down: California Town Silences Pickleball with Historic Ban

Paul Riverbank, 11/20/2025Carmel’s pickleball ban sparks debate, highlighting the clash: community tranquility versus public recreation rights.
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On a dew-brushed morning, if you wander past Forest Hill Park in Carmel, you’ll catch something unusual: quiet. Not the casual silence of an empty playground, but the deeper hush that comes after a recurring noise vanishes, leaving behind little more than wind in the cypress and the distant thud of running shoes from the track nearby. Once, the volley of pickleball paddles peppered the air here, that distinctive “pop” skipping over fences, down leafy lanes, sometimes even reaching living rooms half a block away. No more, though — at least for now.

Pickleball has swept across the country, threading together retirees, teenagers, and suburban parents into a sometimes unlikely community. In Carmel’s upscale neighborhoods, as elsewhere, the game’s popularity skyrocketed. Yet, what felt like a harmless trend turned contentious. Some locals, those whose windows keep an ear on Forest Hill Park, started to note the soundtrack wasn’t so innocuous. Complaints flowed in: the relentless popping, so unlike tennis, punched through the coastal stillness that makes living in Carmel, for many, a point of pride.

Kimberly Edwards, who lives not far from the courts, voiced her own relief after the city imposed a temporary ban just a few weeks ago. “It’s peaceful again,” she remarked during a recent council meeting, though she wasn’t sure the peace could be easily policed. “Are we talking about staking out the courts, having officers linger just in case somebody serves with the wrong paddle?” She shook her head — a detail captured in the meeting notes — and wondered aloud if a ban really made practical sense.

Carmel’s city leaders, including Mayor Dale Byrne, tried to strike a middle ground. Council meetings ran long, suggestions bounced around: Could players use softer, “quiet” equipment? Would people actually comply, or would enforcement become a game of cat and mouse no one wanted to play? Council member Alissandra Dramov summed up the impasse with no small frustration, admitting the city “might just be overcomplicating it in the name of compromise.” Maybe, she mused, Forest Hill just wasn’t cut out for pickleball after all.

Pickleball supporters didn’t sit quietly on the bench. During public comment, Barbara Lang, a regular player in the local competitions, tried to nudge the council to reconsider. “At least give the quiet ball a try — it’s only fair,” she said, glancing at several other attendees who nodded in understated solidarity. For now, though, their voices have been overruled.

With a unanimous vote, the council moved to cement the ban, at least for Forest Hill Park. Two public hearings still loom on the calendar before the final ink dries, and opponents of the measure plan to press their case again — hoping to swing even a single vote in the eleventh hour.

As the dust settles, Mayor Byrne’s closing remarks hinted at the larger dilemma: a town’s need for tranquility tangling with the right to enjoy public spaces. “Enforcement is tough. I’d rather not ask the police to drop by every hour,” he said, acknowledging both the fatigue and sadness on all sides. And so, Carmel inches toward becoming the first city in California to take such a firm stand against pickleball noise.

For now, the empty courts are a reminder of just how much even a small change can send ripples through a closely-knit community. As pickleball’s clamor fades, all that’s left is the sound Carmel’s longtime residents remember — a hush, perhaps stubborn, filling the gaps where, just last month, paddles and laughter rang out.