from the New York Times

December 24, 1997

By JACK CURRY

There is a smoothness about Derek Jeter as he glides past the stuffed animals, the coloring books and the blocks to visit Kaitlin Hines in the children's ward at Bronson Hospital in Kalamazoo, Mich.

Kaitlin is playing in a miniature kitchen, so Jeter casually crouches beside the 18-month-old and asks her what is in the refrigerator. The little girl in Barney slippers does not realize she is hanging out with the shortstop of the Yankees, but she is happy that he is at her eye level. She hands him a plastic bagel. Jeter inspects it, tells Kaitlin it looks delicious and returns it to her. She quickly stuffs the bagel in her mouth, then grins.

The cute byplay causes everyone to smile. It is a welcome sliver of happiness in this fourth-floor setting because there is nothing pleasant about babies with intravenous needles in their bodies and 6-year-olds with leukemia.

"When Derek does something like this, I'm as proud of him as when he does something in baseball," said Dr. Charles Jeter, who coordinated his son's visit to his hometown two weeks ago. "This has a tremendous impact when Derek asks these kids how they're doing. It's important."

Jeter understands that. His parents prepared him to be more than a major league baseball player. They prepared him to be caring and thoughtful by stressing his responsibilities and by imploring him to be better than good. They even negotiated yearly contracts with their son, detailing what was expected from him. In academics. In athletics. At home. With friends.

"Derek had goals," recalled his mother, Dorothy, "but he knew if he wanted to play in the Little League all-star game or go to baseball camp, he better come home with a 4.0, he better have his behavior intact and he better make curfew or he wasn't going anywhere."

The strict approach obviously worked. The 23-year-old Jeter has thrived in his two years in treacherous New York, perhaps the toughest city for a young athlete, and has made the gossip pages only when there is speculation about his dating this supermodel or that pop star.

The disciplined upbringing also molded Jeter into someone who takes the time to sign autographs for children in wheelchairs and to offer encouragement that their families will remember for weeks. His visit to Kalamazoo was only the second time he had seen his family since the Yankee season ended in October and he is about to leave the country for 10 days, but these less fortunate families at the hospital still take priority.

Privately, Jeter conceded: "I hate hospitals. I don't do well in them." But he also said: "People look up to you if you play for the Yankees. I think you should do something to help out. Some players don't look at it that way. Off the field is when people look up to you even more. That's when your job starts. Baseball is the easy part."

Jeter surprised even his parents last December by starting the Turn 2 Foundation, a charitable organization designed to steer high-risk kids away from substance abuse. He asked his father to help. Charles Jeter, a 49-year-old therapist with a private practice treating patients with substance abuse or psychiatric problems, abandoned his position to immerse himself in the foundation.

Jeter had wanted to start a foundation since he was a child because Dave Winfield, his favorite player, had one. In its first year, Turn 2 has raised $305,000 and plans to expand to New York. Jeter's father barely blinked when he was asked if he had wanted to give up his job to share a dream with his son.

"I'm impacting more people this way than I was in private practice," said Charles Jeter, who is officially the foundation's executive director. "It wasn't a hard decision. I saw this as a chance to work with Derek beyond the father-son relationship."

Jeter, who is president of the foundation, sounded like George Steinbrenner when he said: "I'm still the boss. I tell him what to do."

Spend the day with the Jeters and it becomes obvious that the polite yet reserved Jeter of the Yankee clubhouse is much looser and funnier around his family. The father and the son seem more like brothers or best friends. After Jeter said it was too frigid to walk three blocks from the Turn 2 offices to the hospital, his father told him he was "getting soft." Jeter told his father that he resembled Reggie Jackson, but then patted his father's stomach and said "except right here."

Charles Jeter, who played shortstop at Fisk University, tried to motivate his son as a 10-year-old by showing him his scrapbook and by telling him he would get one if he became a good player. Asked how many pages were in the scrapbook, Jeter said, "About two," almost causing his father to gag on his soda.

Charles Jeter contended that his son was an eighth grader when he finally beat him in basketball. But Jeter said, "I think it was more like the fourth grade." When Jeter was asked if working together has made the two closer, he sighed and kiddingly said, "Yeah, we're too close now."

That's obviously not true. This is a family that cares deeply about one another and about others. "My parents are everything to me," Jeter said. "I've seen friends who don't have that relationship and I feel fortunate. I know how special it is."

Charles Jeter never knew that feeling as a child. He grew up in Montgomery, Ala., without a father. Dorothy Jeter, 45, who was born in Jersey City, said her husband's strong and soothing demeanor reminds her of her own father's.

"He listens and he's there," she said. "He's just a good dad."

Charles Jeter said: "What I experienced made me want to be there for my kids. It made me want to be a good father and be supportive. I wasn't lacking because I had a great mother, but it's important to have a male role model."

Jeter, who has an 18-year-old sister, Sharlee, is amazed that his father navigated through childhood without a father. "I couldn't imagine it because I have been spoiled," he said. "My parents have done everything for us."

And still do. Dorothy Jeter took off from her job as a credit manager to furnish her son's new home in Tampa, Fla., including the Christmas tree, because that is where the Jeters will celebrate the holiday. That is why Charles Jeter quit his job when his son wanted to create the foundation. That is why Jeter spent a rare day home at the hospital and at a meeting with 750 youngsters from western Michigan who had performed well in school. His father thought it would be good for Turn 2, so Jeter, the boss, obliged.

Jeter ended his visit to the hospital in the oncology wing, where a curious boy in a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt ambled toward him and his father. A hospital official asked an 11-year-old leukemia patient, Julio Martinez, to find the Yankee, and the boy incorrectly shook hands with the father of the Yankee. Then Julio asked in exasperated fashion, "Where's the rest of the team?"

But Jeter was not disarmed by the boy who did not know him. He teased Julio about his shirt and told him the Cowboys had had a horrible season. He autographed a baseball for the boy, gave him a high-five and, suddenly, Julio had a new hero.

Just as Jeter was about to depart, Julio whispered something to his mother and she nodded. The boy rushed to Jeter, hugged him and said, "Thank you for coming and Merry Christmas," creating another smile that radiated from an unlikely place. Make that two smiles.