Yankees HOPE Week Magical for All

NEW YORK -- Every once in a while a sports team or an athlete does something that makes you sit up and scratch your head. What were they thinking? Why on earth would they attempt such a thing?

For five straight days last week, the New York Yankees mystified all five boroughs and much of New Jersey. The Yankees won a handful of games in that span, though that hardly seemed to matter. No, this was a time to sprinkle magic, to make a profound difference, to change lives, and if you think that's an exaggeration, you didn't see Jorge Grajales' look of pure bliss as Nick Swisher did a half-cannonball into a backyard pool.

This was Monday, the start of an extraordinary week where random acts of kindness obliterated the box scores. Grajales is a 13-year-old quadruple amputee; his four limbs were severed because of a gangrenous infection when he was just an infant in Panama. Most likely he faced a future of begging on the streets, until a wonderful family, through their involvement with an organization called Healing the Children, offered to foster and oversee Grajales' medical needs in America. Since he was three, Grajales has spent nine months a year with John and Faye Dyksen and their kids in North Haledon, N.J. He attends regular middle school, serves supper to the homeless every Friday night at the neighborhood church, obsesses just a little over the Yankees and barely takes a breath when listing the typical teenage things he likes to do in his spare time.

"Typing on the computer, video games, he told me he enjoys writing, and sports, he's really into soccer and swimming," Swisher, a Yankee outfielder, said later, after he and several teammates and coaches treated Grajales to the surprise pool party. Someone wondered whose smile was bigger, Swisher's or Grajales'. Swisher called it a tie, but he also promised the grin imprinted on his mug from this little snapshot of an afternoon would last the rest of the season.

Mariano Rivera, fellow Panamanian, stood poolside, trying hard to squeeze back tears as he watched Grajales laugh and splash and wrestle with various Yankees. Grajales wasn't the only one having the time of his life. "What we do -- not just what we do, but what we get -- from this week is priceless," Rivera told reporters, before everyone dried off and headed for Yankee Stadium. "We are the ones who come out blessed. It's great to be here, not only because Jorge is from Panama, but because he has charisma. The way he lives life. He loves to play soccer, he loves to swim. But I love being here, being in the presence of an amazing kid."

HOPE (Helping Others Persevere and Excel) Week is the genius creation of Jason Zillo, the Yankees' Director of Media Relations. In 1996, he was a measly Yankee intern who happened to watch a 48 Hours TV special on Camp Sundown, a haven for kids who cannot be exposed to UV light due to a genetic disorder. Something stirred in Zillo, made him yearn to become involved, but how could a grunt who works 80 hours a week make a dent?

He sent the camp some autographed baseballs and thought, as he said the other day, "if I'm ever lucky enough to hang around the Yankees long enough, I'd like to put something together."

So there was Jane Lang Tuesday morning, opening her door to the most astonishing ... well, it wasn't sight, because the 67-year-old Lang has been blind since birth. But the energy and good vibes on her Morris Plains, N.J., porch were palpable. Then came that voice.

"Hi Jane, it's Joe Girardi, Joba Chamberlain, Chad Gaudin, David Robertson and Tino Martinez. We're here to escort you to the game."

Girardi, the Yankee manager, handed her a bouquet of flowers, but Lang was too flustered to do much with them. Why oh why were they here? "We think your story is amazing," Girardi said.

"I got the three things I wished for, a house with a roof that didn't leak, a person that loved me and kids. What do I have to complain about? I feel like I'm dreaming. If I pinch myself I'm going to wake up. I never expected a day like this, never in a million years."
-- Jane Lang It must have seemed like these guys had dropped out of the sky, daisies in hand, arms opened wide. The entire town appeared to know about the surprise, except for Lang. The Yankees were here to accompany her on the same two-hour trek she's taken hundreds and hundreds of times, for more than a decade, usually just her and Clipper, her seeing eye golden retriever, riding public transportation from the Jersey doorstep to the Stadium in the Bronx.

Everyone began walking -- Clipper leading the way, Chamberlain joking he should have stretched for the journey -- and by the time they reached the train station 20 minutes later, nearly 100 people had joined the merry, sweaty troupe. Lang's swash of Yankee pins and her "NY" earrings sparkled as she invited Girardi to sit next to her for the 70-minute ride. She felt his face, his strong jaw line, putting shape to the man she heretofore knew only from TV and radio descriptions.

"Such fine character," Lang said of Girardi. She declared Martinez, the former Yankee, "handsome," and told him she could feel his blush. Robertson kept calling her "unbelievable" considering all she goes through just to see a baseball game, but Lang said no, it was the other way around, the Yankees were unbelievable because of all the joy they spread.

After the New Jersey Transit Morris-Essex Line pulled into Penn Station, Clipper and Lang led the throng into the sunlight for the walk to Herald Square, then underground again to catch the D train for the ride uptown. On most subway excursions Lang begins with eight pieces of candy in her right pocket, then transfers them to the left piece by piece at each stop until only one piece remains. 161 Street, the sweetest stop, means Yankee Stadium. Nirvana.

Ask Lang if she ever tires of the arduous trip, of stepping around trash cans and through gunk and over the daily nuisances that make life in New York so grand, and she'll laugh like a girl still feeling the flush of first love. A group of cowardly teenage boys once taunted her, spinning her around in dizzy circles, and ages before that she stumbled on the tracks and had to crawl quickly for refuge from an approaching train. She'd much rather talk about life's blessings, or the Yankees' rotation.

"I got the three things I wished for, a house with a roof that didn't leak, a person that loved me and kids. What do I have to complain about?" she said. "I feel like I'm dreaming. If I pinch myself, I'm going to wake up. I never expected a day like this, never in a million years."

At the Stadium, another of her beloved Yankees from the past, Paul O'Neill, led her on a tour of Monument Park, where she traced most everything with her delicate fingers. Babe Ruth's bat. A World Series trophy. Joe D's hat. O'Neill's face ("lovely," she called it.) On the field during batting practice she cradled Rivera's hands, to see how he throws a cutter, and Derek Jeter's cheeks, to see why they inspire all those high-pitched screams.

The woman who learned about the sport when her father guided her fingers over a checkerboard that was arranged to look like a baseball field got to bring the lineup card to home plate. She handed it to the ump, gave him a kiss. After the game, Lang was escorted onto the field to high-five the players, and then Girardi laced his hand with hers and steered her around the bases, and every time she touched a bag the vibrations seemed to ripple through the night.

"I've always thought I was the luckiest person in the world," Lang said, channeling another Yankee. "Today I know I am."

It's not easy coordinating the logistics and ensuring the carefully planned surprises aren't spoiled. Zillo's dry erase board is cluttered with most every thought that springs from his head -- just imagine all the daily buffering he must do to keep peace between the team and the voracious New York media -- but somehow that TV story he watched as an intern 14 years ago about the kids who couldn't bear sunlight never disappeared. He still has it on VHS tape. Finally, in 2009, his vision of the team connecting on a visceral, emotional level took shape, with the Yankees' first HOPE Week.

"I'm so fortunate to work for an organization where when the gears are humming, they can hum really high and really loud," Zillo said.

And yes, the Yankees are blessed with tons of money and resources, but they still had to convince players to give up their mornings and early afternoons on a homestand, in the dog days of August, with a tough pennant race still looming. Though convince is hardly the right word. As soon as the sign-up sheet for HOPE Week was posted in the clubhouse, players and staff rushed to fill every spot. Some players asked to do double or even triple duty, that's how endearing and special this event has become in just one year.

Sierra Leone-native Mohamed Kamara is interviewed at the New York Stock Exchange with members of the Yankee organization

A cavalcade of Yankees and executives -- CC Sabathia, Curtis Granderson, Marcus Thames, Jeter, Brian Cashman, Reggie Jackson -- rose bright and early Wednesday, eager to chaperon civil war survivor and recent high school graduate Mohamed Kamara on a surprise tour of the New York Stock Exchange.

Kamara, 17, thought he was going to the NYSE for a regular tour -- and that would have been quite the honor for any kid who had graduated in the top quarter of his class at Bronx Leadership Academy High School and was now bound for Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island, to study international business. But Kamara is also a kid who had witnessed all sorts of atrocities during the war that raged in his homeland of Sierra Leone. His story of survival, of growing up fast amongst rebel soldiers fighting for control of the diamond industry, brought lumps to the throats of quite a few Yankees.

"I saw people getting killed, their hands getting cut off right in front of my face, pregnant women having their stomachs cut out," Kamara said. "You had to step over dead bodies in the street. At a young age, my family depended on me to go into the forest for food ... you had to keep moving, sleep on the ground, sometimes don't sleep because (the soldiers) might sneak behind you."

It was years before Kamara emigrated to the Bronx, to live with an aunt and uncle. He didn't know a drop of English, but his work ethic had long ago been formed. A teacher helped him get a part-time job as a golf caddy in Alpine, N.J. -- two buses and two trains each way, five hours total in transit whenever he works -- and all his earnings went to his family back in Sierra Leone. Still, when his mother died last year from heart failure, Kamara couldn't afford to attend her funeral.

"How do you ever have a bad day after hearing all that?" wondered Sabathia. "He's become such a good student and citizen through perseverance and heart. He has such a heightened sense of character and what it means to be loyal. We all can learn from him even though he's just a teenager. I think he's going to do great things in his life -- he already has -- and I know I'll never forget him. We just wanted to make his day a little bit brighter."

Trips to City Hall and the United Nations rounded out the whirlwind morning. After Mayor Bloomberg gave Kamara an official proclamation, Jeter jokingly nudged the teen, told him Bloomberg's the man to see if Kamara ever gets in trouble. Everyone remarked on how composed Kamara stayed, how regal he looked while the superstar ballplayers gushed and fawned over him.

That's exactly the point of HOPE Week. Make a stranger feel noticed, appreciated, and spread a little joy. Later that night, Kamara threw out the first pitch at Yankee Stadium, got a strong embrace from catcher Jorge Posada and finally smiled the way a 17-year-old kid is meant to smile.

Another point about HOPE Week: not every event has to be dressed in bells and whistles. The kids from You Are Beautiful People, a group that enables youth with special needs to take part in sports and mainstream activities, thought they had been invited to watch the Yankees game Thursday. From a fancy suite, sure, but it didn't seem possible for this outing to get any better. They had popcorn, friends, room to stretch. Then Mark Teixeira burst through the door with an invitation.

Would they like to join the Yankees on the field, for a real game of ball? Who knew eyeballs could get that big? First the Yankees had to finish off the Detroit Tigers -- nine innings that must have seemed like nine years to these kids -- and then came the most magnificent ending ever to a double-header.

The idea behind Beautiful People is to pair special needs children with a "buddy," a mainstream youth or adult who sticks by the child's side during sports or activities. Some of the children have autism or Down syndrome, others have cerebral palsy or immune deficiency challenges. Some need braces to walk, or portable oxygen tanks to breathe.

On this magical night, it was their spirit that set them apart. Coupled with players like Andy Pettitte, A.J. Burnett, Phil Hughes, Javier Vazquez, Posada and Chamberlain, the kids rounded the bases and fielded balls as their names and pictures flashed on the high-definition screen in center field.

They hit, threw and laughed an awful lot, though the Yankees surely laughed more. The big league players who long ago stopped carrying their own suitcases now lugged around signs crafted with personalized cheers for each kid. And bless their hearts, some of the Bleacher Creatures stayed late to give a special roll call, with "Bald Vinny" leading the way.

"I don't know if you can have more fun on a baseball field than those kids had," Teixeira said later. "That was so special for all of us. Every swing they took or ball they threw meant the world to them."

When they were finally exhausted (but still delirious), the kids were treated by the Yankees to a barbecue, the food the same as the players' spread in the clubhouse. Joining this happy mesh of superstar athletes and Beautiful People were participants from four of the five families/organizations recognized during HOPE Week last summer. Multiply by 10 the joy the Yankees experienced here in November, after winning the World Series, and that's how this corner of the Stadium felt.

It seemed like minutes passed before Melida Arias' world stopped spinning. Was that really Alex Rodriguez wearing a goofy grin and standing before her at the Wendy's on Third Avenue in the Bronx? Later she'd say she felt as if she were about to faint, and couldn't even feel the tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Are you going to order anything?" she finally said, words she has uttered thousands of times before, but never on a day like this, to an audience like this. Besides A-Rod there was Robinson Cano, Robertson, Sergio Mitre, Ramiro Pena, Francisco Cervelli and bench coach Tony Pena, all wearing matching goofy grins.

"It's on the house," she told them, more tongue-tied words she'd mockingly repeat in the days to come, as if anyone could have possibly rehearsed for this unforgettable moment.

You see, while kindness really is contagious, it can also be quite tricky. Part of the beauty of HOPE Week lies in the surprise itself, and by the time Friday rolled around the events had been a mouth-gaping, life-changing success. But clever planning had to be hitch-free for the final subterfuge to fool these honorees.

Melida and her older sister Johanna had been told media would be on hand to cover a scheduled "inspection" of the fast food joint, so when TV crews and reporters began to gather in the parking lot, neither paid much attention. "We had no idea, none, that something like this could happen to people like us," Melida said.

Something like this? Meaning professional baseball players don't often show up at your place of work and whisk you into Manhattan, for a shopping spree at DKNY? People like us? Meaning two extraordinary young women who for 16 years shuffled from rented rooms to boarding houses to homeless shelters with their mother, a cab driver before she fell sick, barely scraping by but never losing sight of what really mattered.

"I guess it's like baseball players thinking of winning the World Series, how that would be the ultimate to them, the fulfillment of their dreams, " Melida said. "Getting a good education was our dream. It was the way we were going to make a better life for ourselves, but there were plenty of days where we had doubts."

A few years ago, when Melida was a freshman in high school, she told some of her classmates she was homeless, shared intimate details about a life she never chose, and soon those secrets had gone viral, posted online by cruel, vapid girls. Shamed and angered -- "Who wouldn't be?" Melida said -- she transferred to Bronx Leadership Academy High School, coincidentally the same school where Mohamed Kamara, war refugee from Sierra Leone, thrived.

Months after graduating in the top third of her class, Melida this fall will enroll in highly regarded Baruch College in Manhattan, the first member of her family to attend university. She plans to study child psychology, to help children just like her. Johanna was accepted by Syracuse two years ago, but then the girls' mother, Maria, became ill. So Johanna, a young woman with a hot pearly smile and cool sense of style, continues to work fast food counters, continues to dream.

"I'll never be someone to say 'Why me?' because there is always somebody who has gone through more struggles or had it much worse," Johanna said. "My sister and I have carried each other through rough times, but we always had each other and our mom. Some kids don't even have that. I think there's honor in being a survivor of hardships that come your way."

They went from Wendy's in the Bronx to the glam Donna Karan store on Madison Avenue, the whole giddy caravan off to buy clothes for Melida's freshman year of college and Johanna's future professional opportunities. Cano offered fashion advice, but the girls laughed, said no offense but they'd rather take tips from the wives of the Yankee players. It wasn't quite like Cinderella stepping out of an apron and into A-line dresses, but it sure did feel like a fairy tale.

"We're just so excited for them," Rodriguez said. "It's just a great experience for all of us."

There were more rewards for the sisters who never believed education was a dirty word, who refused to be weakened by mean girls and tough streets. In the middle of Friday's game, after they had thrown out a double first pitch, general manager Brian Cashman told them they had been offered paid internships, Johanna with Lincoln Hospital, Medina with the Yankees next summer. It's worth noting both Cashman and Zillo began their executive careers as Yankee interns.

"Our mother always said to stay focused and keep dreaming and better things will come if you're a good person," Melida said, after midnight had come and gone on this remarkable week. For five selfless, hug-filled days, from a backyard pool party to a train ride to the Stock Exchange to the ballpark to a clothing store, the Yankees kept hearing a different version of that same song.

This is a dream. I'd never dream this was possible. Pinch me and tell me I'm not dreaming.

Of all the trends inspired by sports, let us hope this is the one that spreads like a giant wave through other teams, other communities. The cheers will echo and echo and echo.