Absent during the pandemic? Chiefs charity appearances. But they’re finding a way
Tyreek Hill stood up from his chair, walked into the living room and glided across the floor while striking the pose of a ballerina. Balanced himself on his toes. Placed his hands above his head. The full performance.
A few minutes later, he returned, this time to “hit the woah,” a popular Internet dance move that he seemed to have tried once or twice before.
All on a dare.
From some kids.
Hill, the superstar Chiefs receiver, performed the acts in front of Children’s Mercy Hospital patients — as his “punishment” for failing to answer a couple of trivia questions. The kids watched from their hospital rooms. They knew some of the answers. And when Hill became stumped, they pounced.
“It’s great (for the kids) to see the athletes act like that,” said Trista Williams, Child Life Program coordinator at Children’s Mercy. “It’s fun to see them act like normal people.”
Even if on a monitor. Because right now, it’s all they have. This is the look of professional players’ charity appearances in the COVID-19 pandemic.
Two years ago, Hill arrived at Children’s Mercy around Christmas time with a bag of gifts. He visited with kids at their beds and handed out the presents, stopping from room to room.
Last year, Chiefs defensive lineman Mike Pennel arrived there with a sack of toys, items like board games and video game controllers, and passed them out to kids receiving dialysis treatments. Pennel had once been a patient at Children’s Mercy as a young kid, and he wanted to return the favor.
Those days are gone. For now.
Chiefs players have been instructed to limit their possible exposure to the outside world as they attempt to complete an NFL season in the midst of a pandemic. At places like Children’s Mercy, where visits from local teams like Sporting KC, the Royals and Chiefs have become the norm, it’s all been put on hold since March.
So adjust they must.
“It’s been difficult to not be in the community. I think that’s been the biggest thing,” Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes said. “Obviously with the quarantine rules and the protocols, you have to kind of stay at home and keep your social bubble. I mean, it’s different. It’s different than any year that I’ve been part of a team.”
Mahomes’ bubble, for example, will prevent him from having family over for Christmas. He has no plans to see his mom, father or younger sister in person for the holidays.
It’s one example of the extra precautions players are taking — not just in Kansas City but across the entire NFL. Players have been instructed to follow rigid protocols, and at places like Kansas City, they particularly emphasize careful choices while outside the facilities.
That’s prevented players from scheduling their usual in-person charitable appearances. But they haven’t canceled altogether. They’ve simply been forced to get creative.
In the spring, Hill wore a mask and passed out food to front-line workers. He and fellow wide receivers Demarcus Robinson and Jody Fortson have made the virtual visits through the children’s hospital.
Mahomes turned his foundation’s annual fundraiser — the 15 and the Mahomies gala — into a virtual event, appearing on video.
Hill and Tyrann Mathieu were among the players to hold turkey drives over Thanksgiving, asking members of their foundations and volunteers to hand them out. Last weekend, Mathieu surprised families at Amethyst Place, which provides drug and alcohol rehab housing for women, with a virtual appearance, also sending gifts.
It’s not the same.
But it’s something.
“It’s a blessing that we’re still able to reach a lot of different people,” Mathieu said. “I think one of the biggest things we need is I always want to be present. I always want those kids and those families to be able to touch me and ask me those questions, so that’s just the biggest difference — me not being as hands-on as I’ve been in the past.”
There are people counting on athletes’ support, even if it’s been altered. Through his foundation Eighty-Seven and Running, Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce, the team’s Walter Payton NFL Man of the Year nominee, purchased a former muffler shop to build an “Ignition Lab,” hoping to provide a place for teenagers to fine-tune an array of skills. Kelce has also continued his work with Operation Breakthrough.
Chris Jones, who says he is in the process of developing a foundation to serve underprivileged kids, has formed a relationship with the Special Olympics. Kids typically have the chance to meet with him during training camp. Not this year. So instead, he sent 1,200 postcards to Special Olympics Kansas athletes.
That’s what’s been most lost. The interaction. At some of these places, kids have grown to know the athletes as people as much as players. They feel like they know them personally. As Mary Esselman, president and CEO of Operation Breakthrough, told Star columnist Vahe Gregorian, when she asked the kids what they recalled most about Kelce, one replied, “He remembered my name.”
The objective in the COVID-19 world is to ensure the interruption of in-person appearances doesn’t interrupt those relationships and bonds.
Find a way.
At Children’s Mercy Hospital, they’re using an in-house TV station that has been rarely, if at all, used for years. It’s set up in the chapel. The kids can watch 8-10 shows per week. Music Mondays. Trivia Tuesdays.
Thursdays are the wild card, and they hope they might see someone they know. A Chiefs player. A Sporting KC athlete.
“It’s hard to replicate, and we’re still not replicating it,” said Williams, the CMH Child Life Program coordinator. “... But this also has us reinventing the wheel. I think one thing COVID has taught us all is we can think outside the box and (do things) we didn’t think we could do before.”