By Marc Fisher
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Antoinette "Pinky" Berry fought hard, but as she drifted into her final days, she had very little left. In bed at Washington Hospital Center's Cancer Institute, surrounded by family and friends, she had stopped eating, wasn't much for talking and showed little of the spirit that made her so popular in the Oxon Hill Safeway's bakery department.
Making her hospital rounds one day this month, Vera Oye Yaa-Anna, a storyteller who offers patients encouragement and perhaps a song, instantly recognized Berry from Safeway.
"Seeing Pinky in her terminal state was devastating," Oye says. Trying to hide her emotions, Oye edged toward the door. On the way out, she noticed that Berry was covered with a homemade Washington Redskins blanket.
Are the Redskins your team? Oye asked, and the drawn face lit up. Have you been to a game? Would you want to go?
"No," Berry replied weakly. But she did have one request.
"Jason Campbell," she said. The patient wanted to see or talk to the team's quarterback.
"That was a request I couldn't do anything about," Oye says. So she said farewell and slipped away. "I thought, 'I'm never going back to that room; I cannot help her.' " But Oye couldn't get Berry's sorrow out of her mind. She sat down and, knowing no one in the Redskins organization, sent an e-mail to the generic mailbox on the team's Web site.
The Skins' online operation passed the e-mail to B.J. Corriveau, the team's vice president for community relations. Within 30 minutes, Corriveau was on the phone with Oye: Good news: Campbell wanted to make the call.
The next day, says Tina Carter, one of Berry's younger siblings, "my sister was so excited that she sat up in bed and put on her wig -- she'd lost her hair from the cancer treatments -- and put on her makeup, too. For a phone call!"
At the appointed hour, Campbell called and spoke to Berry for 10 minutes, about the team and her lifelong devotion to all things Redskins, about her spirits, about the need to keep on keeping on.
"I was just trying to make her feel real important," says Campbell, the 26-year-old quarterback. "Cheer her up, thank her for being such a big fan. A story like this really gets your heart. If you can encourage them even a little bit, you have to try."
After he finished with Berry, to the shock of everyone in the hospital room, Campbell asked to speak to each relative and friend who was visiting. They passed the phone around, each hearing the quarterback tell them "to support her all the way. Let God do the worrying for you. She's in God's hands."
"He wanted to make sure he said 'God bless' to each one of us," Carter says. "We were just thanking him because he really didn't have to do that."
Through it all, Berry beamed. "The smile on her face -- irreplaceable," Carter says. "We hadn't seen that in quite a while."
"I was in awe of the transformation," Oye says. "She didn't look like death anymore."
Pinky Berry went home the next day. There was nothing more the hospital could do for her. She refused all medication from that point on. Campbell's visit on the phone "had put her at peace," Oye says.
"Sometimes we forget just how powerful these connections can be," says Corriveau, who fields many requests from fans, often from relatives of someone who has little time remaining. "The players are great about this kind of thing."
Campbell says talking to Berry reminded him of "when my grandmother was passing away, and I came home from college to see her. I remember thinking how this puts life in perspective."
The Redskins sometimes quietly arrange for dying patients to attend a last game. There's even a semi-secret location just off the playing field where the team arranges for some critically ill fans to meet players for autographs. But there are always more requests than can be accommodated.
When Berry got home, her family stayed with her. Just as they had all her life, they surrounded her with love and with a symbol of their years together: their Redskins paraphernalia.
"We are all crazy Redskins fans," Carter says. "My whole basement is decorated Redskins. We are diehard, win or lose, good weather, bad weather. Our father passed it on to us, and we did the same to our kids. When Daddy died in '99, his obituary said he was a diehard Redskins fan. Daddy said, 'You are Redskins fans; that's who you are.' "
Players usually experience that kind of devotion from afar, quick glimpses into the stands, a passing encounter at an autograph session. "You can't really even imagine it from our side," Campbell says. "You can't know what's inside the feelings." But talking to Pinky Berry, he says, he got a sense of what solace the love of a home team can bring.
Berry died the day after she got home. She was 49. The obituary her family wrote points out that she was a fashion plate and a crafts lover, someone who baked and made her own candles, lotions, soaps and oils. She sang beautifully, and she was a giving big sister. And, the obituary notes, "she loved the Redskins."
Her mother, Geraldine Berry, is doing okay, Carter says. The family has had to pick itself up, because this weekend, Tina's daughter is getting married -- to a Steelers fan. God, the Berrys say, will give them the strength they need to get past that one.
E-mail:marcfisher@washpost.com
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