Bronson Balholm felt nervous as he looked out at the crowd. Balholm, a catcher for a team called the Party Animals, had played in front of and entertained crowds of tens of thousands in stadiums across the country.
But this Sunday evening in February was different. Banana Ball had made its way to perhaps its most unique venue — a meetinghouse for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Savannah, Georgia.
“It was crazy packed,” Balholm told the Deseret News. “I remember sitting down at the podium, and I was like, ‘Oh my goodness, there are a lot of people here,’ and getting a little bit nervous. But I had rehearsed my talk a little bit before, and I felt confident in what I was talking about.”
Inside that packed chapel, Balholm, Kaden Bowler, Jordan Watson and Jessie Hirzel shared their faith journeys. The four are used to entertaining people for a living.
Bowler and Balholm have found careers playing Banana Ball, the baseball phenomenon that’s taken the country by storm thanks to the singing and dancing Savannah Bananas, who had 98,000 fans come out to their two Yankee Stadium games in September.
As show producers, Hirzel and Watson plan out and run all the game day entertainment at Savannah Bananas and Texas Tailgaters games, respectively.
The program that night was initially intended for their local YSA branch, but when word spread that two Banana Ball players and two show callers would be speaking, people of all ages showed up, including a family who drove six hours, according to Bowler.
Geoff Thatcher, president of the Savannah Young Single Adult Branch, came up with the idea for the fireside and encouraged the four to find a way to include the fun of going to a Savannah Banana game.
The four young single adults walked a delicate line between the fun of Banana Ball, teaching the audience the Bananas’ and Party Animals’ signature dances, and the reverent nature of each of their talks. Together, they “found a happy medium,” according to Watson.
“I can’t believe that people would come drive that far to listen to me talk because, like (I’m) from a town of 1,500 people in Summit County, Utah,” said Hirzel, a show producer for the Savannah Bananas. “The fact that I have something to say that people would drive that far for is kind of crazy.”
“But at the end of the day, it’s not me speaking. It’s God giving his children a message, and I’m just kind of the vessel to deliver that message.”
Balholm, Bowler, Watson and Hirzel recently spoke with the Deseret News about the role faith has played in their journeys to Banana Ball.
From Utah to Cambodia to Banana Ball
Bowler thought his baseball career was over after a freak accident during his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Cambodia.
In reality, it was just the beginning.
“If I wouldn’t have had the mission experience that I had, I wouldn’t be playing baseball here now,” Bowler said.
While riding their bikes, Bowler and his mission companion held on to the back of a tuk-tuk, a motorcycle-pulled carriage, when it swerved and clipped Bowler’s bike.
The collision pulled Bowler underneath the tuk-tuk, which ran him over and blew out his knee.
Bowler returned home to Logan, Utah, and underwent three surgeries. Once he recovered, Bowler was sent back to Cambodia to continue his mission.
His mission was cut short again when he fell down a set of stairs and “everything that had been fixed in my knee came out,” he said.
Despite “praying so hard to be able to stay there and praying so hard that they could fix it there,” Bowler was sent home a second time to undergo another surgery. This time, he wouldn’t return to Cambodia.
Bowler embarked on a long journey of rehab as he tried to work himself back to the sport he loved, working out for Utah State, the College of Southern Idaho and Utah Tech in the fall.
“It was so hard mentally, and I remember being in the lowest, lowest point of my life,” he said.
Bowler remembers crying to his mom and telling her, “I’ve never felt so abandoned and so alone.” Ready to walk away from baseball, he turned his focus to music, which had become a coping method after his surgeries.
In high school, Bowler had taught himself how to play the piano by watching YouTube videos. While in the hospital, his father gave him his sister’s old guitar to help bring him a similar joy. That gift would be a turning point for Bowler mentally and for his career.
He would later play in a band, get hired for tours and write songs for country music artists. The Logan native played at Kane Brown’s Delta Center concert two years ago, RedWest, Country Thunder and Country Fan Fest.
Bowler thought music was his new career path, but then in 2024, he got a call from an artist who had joined the Texas Tailgaters, a new country music-themed Banana Ball team with its own band. He told Bowler they needed a baseball player who also played guitar.
It was the perfect marriage of the outfielder’s two passions.
The Tailgaters’ band dissolved at the end of last season. Bowler decided to continue his pursuit of baseball over music because it was his “first love.” But he hasn’t stopped playing guitar. He performed “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” on the guitar at the fireside.
In November, the new Loco Beach Coconuts drafted Bowler in the Banana Ball draft. Bowler is adamant that he wouldn’t have this opportunity if not for his mission, which he shared in the fireside.
“Everything directly happened because I had to go home, and I started playing music,” he said. “If I wouldn’t have started playing music, I wouldn’t have got with the Tailgaters, I wouldn’t have been in the organization — like everything directly happened because of that."
Learning to be intentional with your faith
Watson, the show caller for the Texas Tailgaters, has never watched an entire MLB game. To her, it looks like “a glorified game of just two people playing catch,” she said.
Though her brother played baseball, Watson found the sport boring, but she said Banana Ball is “anything but boring.”
Watson, who hails from Tampa, Florida, moved to Savannah, Georgia, for her Tailgaters job the day after she graduated from BYU, where she studied experience design and management.
When Watson first arrived in Provo, she thought she would become a lawyer. But after her time on the board for The ROC, BYU’s student section, she realized she could work in sports.
As a show caller, Watson is responsible for planning how the Tailgaters will entertain fans from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. on game days, including the tailgate, pregame show and the in-game entertainment.
While Watson writes the script for the game and runs rehearsals, she emphasized that the game itself and its result are not scripted.
“We never know who’s going to win the game. It is still a real Banana Ball game,” she said.
Watson has to plan everything “down to the exact minute,” especially when the games are televised, and teaches players what to do before game day.
She then cues the audio, video, players and coaches during the game.
During the Banana Ball season, Watson, Bowler, Balholm and Hirzel spend the majority of the nine-month season on the road and are only in Savannah one day a week. As a result, Watson said she’s learned she has “to be a lot more intentional” with her faith.
Last season, Watson and Bowler were both with the Tailgaters and would go to church together while on the road— via Uber, according to Bowler — when they had a Sunday off.
“I have been able to go to some different YSAs on the road, which has been super cool,” Watson said. “... I’ve also got to see some temples that I probably wouldn’t have seen, so it’s kind of cool.”
At first, Watson was “skeptical” of leaving Utah after graduation because she enjoyed living “with people that were like me and having tons of friends there.”
But the people are what Watson loves most about working for the Savannah Bananas organization, where “everybody is friends,” she said. The organization is also very welcoming of faith.
“Most of the guys are super religious. They pray on the field before the games — a lot of them together — and the staff is pretty religious, too,” Watson said.
She’s even had some of her friends in the organization come to church with her because she was giving a talk.
‘Your 41 is coming’
When Balholm was initially assigned the No. 41 at Arizona State, he thought it was a sign he was going to be cut. Instead, the number reignited his faith.
Balholm grew up active in the Church of Jesus Christ in Los Angeles, but lost his faith “a little bit” in college, he said.
The catcher decided to turn to the Bible to study references to the No. 41. He found plenty.
From rains flooding the earth for 40 days in Noah’s time to Christ fasting for 40 days, examples of the No. 40’s significance abound in the Bible. But Balholm realized it’s just as important to notice what happened on the 41st day in those stories.
“The No. 41 will often symbolize a new beginning, a breakthrough, or the end of a trial and emerging immediately after periods of testing commonly represented by the No. 40,” he said.
Balholm believes everyone in the midst of adversity has a 41st day waiting for them.
“It’s easy to be down, but you can lift yourself back up. Believe that good things are coming around the corner. Your 41 is coming,” he said.
The ability to spread kindness on a larger scale contributed to Balholm’s decision to choose Banana Ball over minor league baseball in 2023. After turning to God in prayer, he felt Banana Ball would help him “make such a bigger impact.”
“I didn’t go on a mission, but now I realize my mission is through Banana Ball now, and I can have such an impact in spreading the good word and the gospel and good virtues through this game,” he said.
At a young age, Balholm’s mother taught him to look for and sit with the person sitting alone at school. He’s continued that habit in his adulthood, always looking for someone who needs to know they’re seen.
Just two months ago, on the “BananaLand at Sea” cruise, Balholm noticed a woman in a wheelchair crying by herself. It had been a long day for Balholm and he wanted to relax in his room, but he felt prompted to stop and visit with the woman.
Though players ate their meals in a separate lounge, in that moment, “I knew my dinner was going to be with her that night,” Balholm said.
During February’s fireside, Balholm connected similar experiences in his life to the October 2025 general conference address “No One Sits Alone,” given by Elder Gerrit W. Gong, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and to Banana Ball owner Jesse Cole’s mission to help fill the need for human connection with Banana Ball.
“We were made for human connection by God, and that’s why I believe Banana Ball has taken off because at games you can see people sitting next to each other — they don’t know each other, but they’re getting to know each other. They’re dancing. They’re singing. They’re just interacting, and that’s that human connection,” Balholm said.
A spiritual rekindling in Savannah
When Hirzel moved to Savannah in February 2024, she didn’t know anyone, including any other Latter-day Saints. Coupling that and her busy work schedule, Hirzel stopped attending church despite growing up in an active Latter-day Saint family.
“I thought that I was being fulfilled in a lot of other places in my life. I thought I was being fulfilled by my friends or ‘look at how much I’m traveling’ or ‘look at all the fans that I’m impacting by doing these shows’ or things like that,” she said.
Hirzel jumped straight into the Bananas’ nine-month season right after working the college sports season at Southern Utah University’s athletic department. When life finally slowed down, that fulfillment she had been feeling in her life without church disappeared and was replaced with emptiness.
“I don’t know why I’m not being fulfilled. I don’t know why I feel just kind of dark and alone and like in a really dark place,” she recalled thinking.
Hirzel didn’t know how to fill the emptiness until one morning about a year ago when she woke up on one of her rare Sundays off and felt she needed to go to church.
She located and drove to the nearest meetinghouse with a young single adult branch, which turned out to be just around the corner from where she lived.
Once there, she found a seat in the back where Thatcher, the branch president, introduced himself and invited her to sit with his wife. Hirzel felt “instant peace” and “at home,” she said.
It reminded her of something one of her youth leaders taught her years ago when their ward split: “The church will always be true” wherever you are.
Sitting inside that chapel in Savannah, Georgia, Hirzel gained a testimony of that truth and began her journey of rebuilding her faith.
“I had to make the choice for myself,” she said. “There was nobody there to make it for me, like my parents weren’t there, my college roommates weren’t there, like I had to do it for myself. And I think that’s the only way that like I would have learned and I would have come back to church is if I had to learn the hard way.”
And it’s that very message that she shared in her fireside address.
“You have to choose for yourself. You have to be able to make the decision for yourself because at the end of the day, you can’t drag somebody through faith, you can’t drag somebody like through their saving ordinances. You have to be able to decide for yourself to do that.”