How Pete Frates’ example fuels Mariners prospects Justin Dunn and Johnny Adams

How Pete Frates’ example fuels Mariners prospects Justin Dunn and Johnny Adams

Alex Coffey
Jul 9, 2019

Pete Frates was supposed to be there.

July 3, 2018, was supposed to mark another chapter in Justin Dunn and Frates’ full-circle relationship, one that saw Dunn evolve from a Boston College freshman who “couldn’t throw a strike” to a hot day in Portland, Maine, when he threw 69 of them over 7 2/3 innings for the Binghamton Rumble Ponies, the Double-A affiliate of the New York Mets.

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Frates — a former BC outfielder who became the school’s director of baseball operations, a role he still holds in emeritus fashion, and is best known as one of the inspirations behind the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge — heard Dunn would be in New England and planned to make the hour-and-45-minute drive to Maine with his family. But for Frates, who was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) in 2012, events of any kind were game-day decisions dependent on weather and, more important, how he was feeling. And on July 3, 2018, Pete was not feeling good.

So Justin did his job, assuming that he’d stay in the Eastern League for at least a little while longer and have other chances to pitch in front of his role model and friend. A blockbuster trade five months later changed that. The Mets sent Dunn to Seattle as part of a five-player package in exchange for Robinson Canó and Edwin Díaz. Dunn was suddenly stationed in Arkansas, pitching for the Double-A Travelers of the Texas League. Pete was no longer a short drive away.

“That’s one of the things I miss most about the Eastern League,” Dunn said. “The potential for him to see me play.”

Justin Dunn was not supposed to be there.

No one wants to play baseball in Boston in February, much less ride the bench. But here he was, on Opening Day 2014, doing just that. The Long Island native had been drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers out of high school the year before, but he didn’t sign, opting to attend — and play at — Boston College.

That first weekend in February, Dunn wasn’t treated like a heralded prospect a couple of years out of the big leagues. In fact, he was the only freshman on the roster who didn’t make an appearance in four games against Nevada and Santa Clara. Afterward, he checked his phone, feeling dejected, and saw a message come in.

Dunn’s debut finally came the next week against Stetson. His line: one inning pitched, two hits allowed, one walk and four more messages from Pete.

At this point, Dunn and Frates didn’t know each other very well. They met in the summer of 2013. Back then, Frates was still walking, talking and giving interviews. When Dunn first stepped on campus two months later, Frates was in a wheelchair, speaking slowly and losing the ability to move his hands. The first couple years after his diagnosis he was able to travel with the team, and after that, he kept coming to home games and practices — often when the Eagles needed him most.

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“When he would pull up at a game it was like a spark plug went off,” Dunn said. “We always joked that our midweek games were hard because we had no fans. And I remember one day we were playing against Harvard and we were down and saw Pete roll up and it was like, ‘All right, it’s time to play.’ We turned it on and ended up rolling them pretty good.”

Since Dunn’s freshman year, the majority of his conversations with Frates have been non-verbal. For a while, Frates utilized eye-gaze technology, which allowed him to use his eyes to type messages on Twitter and Facebook. He doesn’t have the energy for that anymore, but even if the messages don’t come from him directly, he still gets his point across.

Frates has been watching as Dunn — the Mariners’ No. 2 prospect, according to MLB Pipeline — accrued a 5-3 record with a 3.45 ERA and 90 strikeouts in 70 1/3 innings with the Travelers this season, earning a spot in Sunday’s Futures Game alongside some of the top minor-league talent in baseball.

“You always know he’s watching,” said BC head baseball coach Mike Gambino said last week. “And he’s not just watching our current players. He’s watching all of our alums. I know he’s going to be watching Justin in the MLB Futures Game.”

Dunn didn’t disappoint. He tossed a scoreless second inning that included striking out Reds No. 1 prospect/MLB No. 27 prospect Taylor Trammell.

Frates doesn’t just watch Dunn and his former teammates for entertainment — or for distraction. He watches because he loves Boston College baseball. BC alums may see Frates as a role model, but the truth is that over the past seven years, their lives have all changed together, in lockstep. While Frates saw the Eagles’ baseball program develop, eventually reaching the NCAA Division I Baseball Tournament in 2016 for the first time in seven years, he also saw his family grow. When he found out that he’d have a daughter, Lucy, he immediately FaceTimed his BC family, including current Everett Aquasox infielder Johnny Adams.

“Everyone was jacked up when he shared the news,” Adams said.

Frates let people into his life, just as he did when he was an outfielder at Boston College from 2004-07. He was one of those first-one-hitting-in-the-cages, last-one-to-leave types, elected captain his senior year. He’d stay after games, checking in on teammates, picking them up when they needed it.

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Gambino jokes that he had no idea what a “director of baseball operations” did before giving Frates that title. He’d never had a director of baseball operations before. It didn’t matter. The title was a formality. What Frates was really doing was giving Gambino’s program the perfect mentor. He was someone who could lead by example but was observant enough to know when his players needed an extra push.

Adams needed an extra push his junior year. He was in the thick of a slump, batting .216 about halfway through the season. He checked his phone, feeling dejected, and saw a message come in.

“Hey bud, keep your chin up, everything’s going to turn around for you. Just keep playing hard. You remind me a lot of myself. Just go out there and keep working hard and the rest will take care of itself.”

The rest took care of itself. Adams raised his batting average to .284 to end the season. The next year, he was drafted by the Mariners in the 22ndround … one year and 664 picks removed from his college roommate and best friend, Justin Dunn.

When Dunn got traded to Seattle, he wasn’t just joining a team. He was reuniting with a group of people who had seen him grow from a freshman who couldn’t throw strikes to the 19thoverall selection in the 2016 MLB Draft; a group of people who, because of Frates, understood how lucky they were to be playing the game, how lucky they were to have physical capabilities of any kind.

A group of people who would not take life for granted.

“Every single person who comes in contact with Pete is going to be a better person because of it if they understand who he is and how he handles life,” said Jimmy VanOstrand, a former volunteer assistant for BC and current mental skills coach for the Mariners. “His battle with ALS has been more so for others even than himself. He’s trying to help other people have a better chance of fighting this disease. And really, in an amazing way, he’s done so much himself for other people.”

Lou Gehrig was not supposed to be there.

In 1939, celebrities didn’t have campaigns to raise funds and awareness for different causes. They certainly weren’t public with their illnesses. But here he was, in front of more than 60,000 people at Yankee Stadium, declaring himself the “luckiest man on the face of the Earth” when everyone realized he was anything but.

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Eighty years ago, Gehrig let the American public into his life. Before the days of viral tweets, footage of the icon’s retirement speech reached almost every movie theater in the country — at a time when everyone went to the movies. His baseball career over, the longtime Yankees first baseman worked as a parole commissioner for the city of New York and stopped only when he could no longer climb the stairs. He kept giving interviews, even after he was wheelchair-bound. Instead of sending Facebook messages, he wrote letters to his teammates in the offseason.

Gehrig was never going to hide or feel sorry for himself, even when he knew he was dying. He was going to give a face to ALS.


Michael Goldsmith, right, and son Austin at Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day on July 4, 2009, in New York. (Frank Franklin II / AP)

“People were really stunned that he made that speech because he was always so shy,” said Jonathan Eig, author of “Luckiest Man: The Life and Death of Lou Gehrig.” “Gehrig never talked about himself. Almost every man, woman and child in America knew who he was because there just weren’t that many ballplayers. There weren’t that many sports to compare with baseball.”

In Gehrig’s era, there were obvious limitations to the amount of media exposure he could get, the number of people he could reach and, as a result, the depth of understanding the public could have about his struggle. Up until his death in 1941, many thought he could live with ALS — known for decades as “Lou Gehrig’s disease” — using crutches or a wheelchair. They didn’t understand there was no cure.

There still is no cure. Which is where, 80 years later, Frates comes in.

“There’s nothing we can do to help me in this disease,” Frates told Gambino shortly after his diagnosis in 2012. “But we’re going to end this disease. It’s unacceptable that since Lou Gehrig gave his speech, nothing has changed. There’s still no known cause. There’s still no known cure. I don’t understand that, and we’re going to change it.”

Since that conversation, Frates has raised more than $200 million for ALS research. He’s inspired millions of people to dump freezing cold water over their heads as an act of solidarity. But more importantly, he’s picked up where Gehrig left off: Lou put ALS in the public forum, and Pete, mainly through social media, has let the world see what this disease is — day in and day out, without a hint of shame or hesitation. Now, most everyone knows what ALS is. They know what it does to your body. They know this disease is about more than Lou Gehrig.

“(Gehrig) let people see him as he was getting weaker and weaker,” said Eig. “And that sends a really powerful message. That’s why people like Pete are the torchbearers. They picked up that torch from Gehrig and said, ‘We’re going to show the world our strength, even as we get weaker.’”

Dunn and Adams still do the ice bucket challenge. They say they’ll do it every August until there’s a cure for ALS. They still talk to Frates, but nowadays, it’s through Pete’s mom Nancy, father John, wife Julie or brother Andrew.

Dunn and Adams credit Frates with affording them a precious perspective. He’s taught them to savor the game, and once the game ends, to savor life.

Frates believed in them when they didn’t believe in themselves. Today, they are professional baseball players, two living examples of the principles Frates continues to represent. Which is why, when Dunn got traded, he set a goal for himself: Make it to the big leagues and come back to Boston, so Frates could finally see him play.

“I want to make sure Pete’s there,” Dunn said. “From Day 1, he was the person encouraging me to keep going. He was there my freshman fall when I couldn’t throw strikes. Hopefully, he’ll be there the day I’m in the big leagues, pitching at Fenway.”

(Top photo courtesy of Boston College)

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