Driven by a desire to give back to the community, Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter created a foundation that assists at-risk youngsters. His efforts, along with those of his parents and sister, reap real results and make him No. 1 on TSN’s annual list of The Good Guys in pro sports.

Some were 9 years old and already obese. Some were 9 and practiced selective mutism; they chose to not talk — to not say one word ever — during school. Some were 9 and so defiant they were one tantrum from expulsion.

They were 9 and headed nowhere, growing up in the dead end of upper Manhattan’s Washington Heights neighborhood, squeezed every day for space to play in and headed for a future within a universe filled with drugs, crime and neglect.

They were the most challenging of the 1,300 youngsters at PS 128, intentionally tossed together into an extraordinary school program. They were linked by a shared vision.

The vision of a psychiatric social worker who saw optimism where others saw calamity.

The vision of a baseball star who understood need instead of greed.

The vision of a family who chose involvement rather than the safety of indifference.

On this spring day at PS 128, the progress created by this vision is romping in an auditorium filled with the sounds of a bat smacking a foam ball and children giggling and scrambling to make a catch. Eight months earlier, these 23 youngsters rather would have fought each other than play in harmony. Or they might have sat and did nothing. Or said nothing.

But on this day, they behave, follow direction and talk and enjoy every moment of this baseball game forced inside because their school has no playground.

Their activity is stopped by a young woman with flashing eyes and vibrant energy in her voice. “Everyone,” she says, “please pay attention. You remember Mr. and Mrs. Jeter, don’t you? Say ‘hi’ to them.”

The youngsters respond quickly. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Jeter,” they say in unison.

Evelyn Montanez smiles. This is her program, these are her kids. She is the social worker with a Ph.D. in clinical social work who conceived of this holistic program that blends nutrition, physical activity, tutoring, mental health counseling, education and parent and teacher involvement. And it has worked.

Kids are learning to eat better, to draw more out of exercise and to play sports. In the process, they are being taught to behave and to socialize more easily. Kids who wouldn’t talk are speaking. Mothers who knew nothing about nutrition are reading can labels. Fathers who never came to school are participating. Families are running in races. They are attending health fairs. Teachers and staffers who never felt included in any programs are enrolled in yoga and aerobics classes, exercising alongside parents. Kindergartners who couldn’t speak or write English are doing both, thanks to intense instruction. Two mental health clinicians are on site, as is a psychiatrist.

Montanez steps back and watches as the Jeters, Charles and Dorothy, wave to the children and talk to them.

At Yankee Stadium, a five-minute ride from PS 128, their son, Derek, is about to play another game as the star shortstop of the most dominant team in baseball. His parents run his charitable foundation; it is called Turn 2, in honor of double plays, his number and the Jeters’ hope people will turn to them for help. His sister, Sharlee, directs its myriad programs. It is the most unique athlete-initiated foundation in sports — family-based, family-directed, successful beyond anything the family had envisioned, helping to develop pilot school-related programs that have the potential to become national models.

PS 128 is why Derek Jeter is The Sporting News’ 2002 No. 1 Good Guy in pro sports. Jackie Robinson Center in Harlem is why. And Kips Bay Boys & Girls Club in the Bronx and Lincoln International Studies School in Kalamazoo, Mich. — all places where Turn 2-backed programs are flourishing. Jeter’s Leaders is why — teenagers in New York and Kalamazoo are groomed as Derek stand-ins, serving and mentoring in their communities as his representatives. Significant inroads are being made with needy children in all those places, inroads impossible without the diligence and generosity of Derek, his family and their foundation.

What began as a discussion between father and son six years ago over pizza in a hotel room has become a foundation bursting with exciting ideas to counter the exploding problems of at-risk urban youngsters. This is a foundation driven by the son’s desire to give back, his father’s amazing networking abilities and his mother’s gift of balancing practicality and attention to detail with genuine concern for the youngsters they serve.

“What has happened to the foundation is above and beyond what I ever envisioned,” Derek says. “Now we want to become a pioneer, setting some kind of standard with some of these programs. I never conceived of the direction we’ve taken, but I want it to continue. We are reaching a lot of kids, and I am very proud of it.”

They are reaching the kids at PS 128. “The pathology in this community is unspeakable,” says Montanez. “But Turn 2 has opened the door to do so many things in this school. Because they are here, we are touching so many lives. When you have a child who was so flat now smiling, or when you have a child who was passive now going for the ball, or you have a child who wouldn’t speak now talking out, you say, ‘yes.’ ”

She pauses, laughs and yells it this time: “YES!”

‘Committed to a Purpose’

Derek Jeter grew up idolizing Dave Winfield, one of the first athletes to start a charitable foundation. Early on, Derek decided if he ever became shortstop of the Yankees — that was his goal from the start — he would have a foundation, just like his hero.

Charles Jeter has a master’s in social work and a Ph.D. in sociology. His professional life has included counseling and combating many of the same problems the foundation is fighting. When his son and he discussed starting the foundation, it was natural for Derek to gravitate to these areas. They agreed the focus had to be on kids.

“But we weren’t going to start a bootleg foundation,” Derek says. “I wanted it to have some meaning. I wanted it to be something the family could do together. And it had to be hands-on. I just didn’t want to give money; I wanted to be involved. Otherwise, I could have just been another United Way. And I have the best parents in the world. I could trust them.

“Plus,” he says impishly, “now I could boss them around for a change.”

Since its beginning in late 1996, Turn 2 has awarded more than $1.5 million in grants. The bulk of its time and money now is concentrated on what the Jeters call “signature” programs, in which the foundation partners with groups and corporations to do its work. No Turn 2 funding decision is made without extensive research; the Jeters lean heavily on guidance from a resource council of outside experts.

The PS 128 pilot is classic Turn 2 work. The foundation has evolved from strictly awarding grants to a project-directed organization. Turn 2 still gives money to existing groups. More significant, it generates seed money for new initiatives, providing the stimulus and funding — and then hands-on involvement — for innovative ideas in the areas of healthy lifestyles and kids. If your concept counters the terrible intrusion of drugs, alcohol and abusive living, and you are located in Kalamazoo, where the Jeters raised Derek and Sharlee; Tampa, where Derek lives in the offseason; or New York City, Turn 2 will listen.

The commitment is expensive. Working in partnership with Children’s Hospital of New York-Presbyterian, Turn 2 is funding and administering the PS 128 program at a cost of $300,000 per year for three years. Derek has an endorsement deal with the hospital; instead of taking money, he has the hospital provide services that allow Turn 2 to help PS 128. But Dorothy figures it now will take another $50,000 per year to properly support these activities.

Derek is the first New York pro athlete to have a long-term partnership with the city’s parks and recreation department. Together, they offer free baseball clinics once a week over a six-week summer span in all five New York City boroughs; these cater to thousands of children who lack even the basic equipment to participate. This year, the foundation has added two one-week free clinics for advanced players. The partnership also includes the expansion of after-school programs at recreation centers in the Harlem and the Bronx affecting 200 kids. Earlier this month, Turn 2 staged a Kidfest, where more than 1,000 kids romped in a city park under the happy gaze of Jeter, who also ran the final competition featuring the top players from the six-week clinics.

At both the Kips Bay Boys & Girls Club and the Kalamazoo Boys & Girls Club, Turn 2 backs a comprehensive drug, alcohol and lifestyle program for kids 6 to 18, depending on the location. The Jeters also award a series of scholarships in both New York and Kalamazoo; their first Jackie Robinson/Derek Jeter scholar just graduated from MIT with a triple major.

“Without Turn 2, we wouldn’t have gotten our (healthy lifestyles) program off the ground,” says Bob Ezelle, executive director of the Boys & Girls Club of Kalamazoo. “We’ve got 200 kids involved. We get them in young and keep them in. We can see the difference already; I don’t hear as much talk about using drugs, not as many young girls are pregnant like it used to be.

“The Jeter family involvement is amazing. They are committed to a purpose, and they’re involved. And how many times do you see a young guy making all this money willing to invest his resources back into the community? The kids know him, he comes here, he is their hero. And he is influencing them positively.”

Hometown Hero

Becky Hunt is the principal at Lincoln School in Kalamazoo. This is a magnet elementary school; kids enter through a lottery system. It is a school of high achievement, but it also has children of need. And Hunt was frustrated that the school wasn’t doing enough for the kids “who were labeled the troublemakers, the problem kids. They had no future without intervention.” She proposed an after-school program in which the children would be exposed to structured, consistent mentoring. They would be kept off the streets during the most vulnerable part of the day, and they would have someone advocating for them.

The Jeters, who now live in New Jersey, liked her idea. So did Derek. The program involves troubled fifth and sixth graders. Most are from dysfunctional families; each has substance-abuse issues close to them. To help turn them around, they were offered martial arts lessons, equestrian lessons — and they received attention. Instead of gangs, they had Turn 2 Proud to be Me, with the Jeter T-shirts and the Jeter name. For the first time in their lives, other kids were jealous of them. They too wanted to be associated with Derek Jeter. It gave kids in the program a much-needed jolt of self-esteem.

“Oh my goodness, you can see the progress,” Hunt says. “They are all passing classes. Test scores are up. They now are on teams, they are cheerleaders. Their rate of suspension has dropped drastically. They are problem-solving now instead of fighting. We’ve got a 21st-century after-school program here.”

The Jeters, she says, made this possible. “This community loves them. The family is outstanding. And Derek is our hometown hero.”

Continuing Vision

Charles Jeter should have been a politician. Outgoing and effervescent, he works a room with grace and a marvelous informality. He oversees Derek’s business interests and signs up Turn 2′s corporate partners. But with the growth of the foundation, the workload became too much. So his wife has taken over day-to-day Turn 2 activities. Dorothy, an accountant for 20 years, is gentle, sweet and, well, motherly. She is the one who frets. She sees how the programs have progressed, sees the kids who are being affected and worries about the future. They play off each other so well, two intelligent, caring, extremely likable people with great humor and the intimacy that comes with 30 years of marriage. Their son reflects their good character; he may date pop stars and beauty queens, but he is squeaky clean, an easygoing man who understands his ability, and responsibility, to influence kids positively.

Dorothy hears what Montanez and Hunt are saying. Kids are benefiting. These are pilot programs others can copy, so more children nationally can be helped.

“We just can’t walk away from them,” Dorothy says. “I wouldn’t do that to my own kids; I can’t do that to these kids. We are starting to climb the mountain. We’ve got a long way to go, but we can see where we can make more of an impact.” So Turn 2 has begun an endowment fund, already at $1 million. The foundation will continue long after Derek retires.

The family also is formulating a new five-year plan; Derek wants Turn 2 to begin its own programs, which would be a major step. His parents already have an idea. Their current activities don’t serve middle-school kids. They are contemplating a Junior Jeter’s Leaders program for that age group; current Jeter’s Leaders, who are hand-picked and do mentoring and service projects involving inner-city groups and kids, are in high school. The family is adding Tampa as another Leaders’ location and it has had inquiries about starting other branches. Now, the Jeters wonder if this, too, should be a national program; they would develop a training center that would spur even more growth of this program.

“That is a great idea,” says Teddy Sheriff, a Jeter’s Leader from Staten Island who next fall will begin college studies to become a minister. “We are impacting the city in ways that we probably couldn’t have done on our own. A lot of New Yorkers would hold onto the notion that young people are going to engage in unlawful activity. Through this program, they’ve seen there are young people who care, and we’ve shown it, not just talked it.”

The Jeters are sitting in a room at PS 128, talking to Montanez. They’ve spoken earlier in the day with Derek, as they do every day. There is always foundation business to discuss. He’s excited about the progress. But no one wants to grow too big and jeopardize the hands-on character of Turn 2.

“We are hoping this will continue,” Evelyn says amid a constant hum of kids rushing in and out, going from one activity to the next.

The Jeters look at each other.

“It will,” says Dorothy.

“Definitely,” says Charles.