CHICAGO — When an EF-2 tornado ripped through the West Garfield Park neighborhood on the evening of July 15, residents lost not only their roofs but also the fragile sense of security they had clung to during the pandemic. But amid the rubble and silence of the aftermath, an unnamed act became a rare bright spot: a hidden donation account worth $1 million.
Three days later, the identity of the person behind the Silent Act was revealed. It wasn’t a successful business or a major research organization, but rather… Cody Bellinger and his wife, all-stars for the Chicago Cubs.
According to the National Weather Service, the EF-2 tornado, packing winds of up to 120 mph, breached fences, tore off the roof of Jefferson Elementary School, and forced more than 50 families to evacuate. The Garfield Community Center and a local church were used as temporary shelters.
The shortage of everything from blankets to food to baby supplies sent local relief forces into a crisis. But on July 16, an unmarked truck showed up, carrying hundreds of new outfits, children’s clothing, toys, even milk and taxes.
Attached was a $1,000,000 cash account, transferred through a middleman, along with a short handwritten note:
“Please don’t tell anyone who sent this. It’s just helping the kids.”
The truth only began to emerge when a staff member at the supported research center took a photo of Chase Carter, Cody Bellinger’s wife, personally delivering toys and clothes for the babies. A mother who received the assistance recognized her and shared the photo on social media, thanking the “beautiful and caring woman.”
From there, the local press began to learn and clearly recognize: Cody and Chase were the ones behind the dedication and chemical support.
Although officially interviewed, Bellinger’s representative confirmed the dedication, and briefly shared:
“Cody and his wife do not want any attention. They just do what they think is right. Cody grew up without much money, and understands the pain of helplessness when watching your parents try to overcome difficult days.”
A close family friend added that Bellinger had participated in volunteer activities since his time playing for the Dodgers, but since coming to Chicago, “he wanted to do something really close to the people here.”
Not stopping there, the Bellinger couple pledged to support the entire construction of the Jefferson School library – which was completed after the block.
“It’s hard enough for you to lose your home. We shouldn’t lose our dreams,” Chase Carter said in a private message to the school principal.
In an era where tributes are often accompanied by television cameras and speeches, the quiet act of Cody Bellinger and his wife has created a feeling in the city.
From Cubs fans to families who have never watched basketball, a series of comments appeared on social media:
“Not only MVP on the court, but MVP in the hearts of Chicagoans.”
“Now I understand why my son has a Cody poster in his room.”
“I used to lose faith, but not now.”
Cody Bellinger is not a major value, not our man in the shadows. But it is the small act, in the silence, in the middle of a tornado night — it becomes a story that is told forever in Chicago coffee shops, in park playgrounds, and in the kingdom of Wrigley Field.
Proof that the Cubs aren’t just good ballplayers — they also have deep, compassionate hearts.