Frates: One Hall of ride
Iconic bucket finds home in Cooperstown
Jon and Stephanie Shestakofsky enjoyed a hearty breakfast yesterday morning at the Deluxe Town Diner in Watertown.
Joining up with old friends for an hour’s worth of reconnecting and reminiscing, Stephanie selected
a Greek omelette from the menu while Jon went for broke by ordering up the politically-correctsounding, “Deluxe Colossal Hungry Person Special” — two eggs over medium, turkey bacon, toast, home fries with hot sauce, a stack of blueberry pancakes, washed down with two cups of coffee. It was a pleasant Sunday brunch — great friends, great food, great conversation — except that Jon kept looking out the window, his eyes focused on the 2016 silver Ford Explorer that was strategically parked close to the front door.
You’d have done the same thing if it was your job to transport a piece of baseball history to Cooperstown, N.Y.
We speak of that old plastic bucket that has become a symbol of hope in mankind’s quest to find a cure for amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. It’s the bucket that was used by Pete Frates, former Boston College baseball captain and ALS rock star, when he did something he’d been inspiring millions to do for more than a year: The Ice Bucket Challenge.
We needn’t trifle with the details, other than to point out that Frates, diagnosed with ALS in March 2012, turned the Ice Bucket Challenge into something akin to the hula hoop craze of the 1950s. The difference is that the Challenge, so much more than a fad, has raised awareness, and, more importantly, millions of dollars, in the fight to beat ALS.
Pete Frates always was, and always will be, a ballplayer. And in the years since July 4, 1939, when Lou Gehrig delivered his epic “Luckiest Man” speech at Yankee Stadium, the disease has been identified with baseball.
It just made sense, then, that when Pete would do his own Ice Bucket Challenge it would take place on hallowed ground: at Fenway Park. And in left field — the very turf that was roamed by Hall of Famers Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski and Jim Rice.
One small problem: On that August day in 2015 when Pete and his entourage showed up at Fenway, nobody had a bucket.
So somebody ran down the third base line and into the dugout to fetch something that would do the trick.
This particular bucket was originally crafted as a container for Giants Sunflower Seeds and had been kicking around the visitors clubhouse for who knows how long. Its contents long since devoured by bigleague ballplayers, it was now being used to tote various items from the clubhouse to the dugout.
With a small group of friends, family members and Red Sox players on hand, Julie Frates lifted up that Giants Sunflower Seeds bucket and poured its contents — ice water — over the head of her husband. It was at that very moment that an old bucket with the words “visitors clubhouse” written on the side in Sharpie became an important piece of baseball history. It was only a matter time before the Hall of Fame would show up to collect it.
Nobody ever stops to wonder exactly how an artifact makes its way from the scene of a history-making event to its permanent display inside a museum. Our focus is on admiring the artifact and mulling its historical impact, and the Hall of Fame has thousands of these items, from Babe Ruth’s bat and Teddy Ballgame’s uniform to, strange as it sounds, Shoeless Joe Jackson’s shoes.
Now it has Pete Frates’ bucket.
When I caught up to Jon and Stephanie Shestakofsky via telephone late yesterday afternoon, they were on the Massachusetts Turnpike a little west of Springfield. As the Hall of Fame-owned Ford Explorer continued its trek to Cooperstown, Jon occasionally peeked into the rear-view mirror for a glance at the bucket, which now contained not ice water but Pete’s glove, cap and other items.
His official title with the Hall is vice president of communications and education. But he also is a native of Belmont, who once worked for the Lowell Spinners and Red Sox. Stephanie has local roots as well, having grown up in Natick.
This wasn’t just work for them. This was passion. And this was history they were delivering to Cooperstown.
“People will say this is a great thing for the Hall of Fame to do for Pete, but, really, it’s a necessity for our institution because of what
he’s done,” Jon said. “We need to tell his story.”
For the rest of time, Pete Frates’ story can be found in the Hall of Fame.