At Tyler Frenzel’s funeral mass, after his frail, worn out, cancer-ridden body had endured all it could, Scott Rolen stood up inside St. Elizabeth Seton Catholic Church in Carmel to eulogize the 9-year-old athlete who had battled leukemia in a way that made an outright MLB superstar pause and want to be in his presence.
“I am thankful that I could be here today to honor Tyler. But I don’t have any words. I don’t know what to say. I’ll just tell you how I feel,” Rolen said.
“I’m happy for Tyler because he can rest now. But I’m not happy. I’m hurt. I’m hurt very badly. I’m hurt because this is the most special little boy who I ever met in my life, and he has the strength and the dignity and the presence of a giant.”
Weeks before Rolen stood up to talk at Tyler’s funeral in December 2004, he and his St. Louis Cardinals team had made it to the World Series due, in large part, to Rolen, whose 2-run home run in the sixth inning of Game 7 of the NLCS gave St. Louis the National League pennant.
As Rolen played in the World Series, he reached out to Tyler several times, offering to fly him privately to a game. It was so hard for Tyler to say no, said his mom, Pam Frenzel. But he was too weak to travel. The cancer and all the treatments were wreaking havoc on his body.
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It was tough on Rolen to hear what Tyler was going through. And it was tough on him when the Cardinals were swept 4-0 by the Boston Red Sox in the World Series. He was disappointed, but Rolen wasn’t really focusing on baseball in the weeks that followed.
Those weeks would be Tyler’s final days and Rolen needed to be there for him.
Rolen, who grew up in Indiana and was a star at Jasper High, flew to visit Tyler in Carmel. He showed up carrying a plastic Target bag, which he handed to Tyler, saying, “I brought this for you.” Tyler opened the bag and pulled out Rolen’s jersey from Game 1 of the World Series inscribed with: “Tyler, YOU are my Hero.”
Like two old pals, Scott and Tyler headed to the basement, Pam said, to play baseball video games. Less than a week later, on November 2, 2004, doctors told the family there was nothing more they could do for Tyler.
“The one question Tyler asked was, ‘Will I be here for my birthday (March 12)?'” Pam said.
She knew the answer and it was heartbreaking. Pam told Tyler they could celebrate his 10th birthday any time, and she quickly put together an unforgettable laser tag party. Tyler’s family and friends were there and so was Rolen, signing baseballs for everyone in attendance.
At Tyler’s funeral, Rolen talked about those wonderful memories the two had shared and how, throughout his entire battle, no matter what Tyler was going through, he never complained.
“I know I’m alright to be hurt because Tyler had an ability to capture everybody that he met. And he got me, I’ll tell you that. He had an ability to hold a mirror in front of all of us,” Rolen said.
“Here’s a nine-year-old boy who doesn’t have hair, who doesn’t say a word, looks you straight in the eyes with a stoic face and his story. The first time I met him, with his eyes, not with his words, was: ‘My name is Tyler. I’m nine years old. I have leukemia. I’m terminal and I accept that. What’s your story?’”
Pam sat in the pew at her son’s funeral and wept as she listened to Rolen talk about Tyler. But her tears weren’t all sad. Some of them were bittersweet.
And some of them were joyful tears, brought on by the memories of Rolen and her son, and the unlikely, wonderful friendship they had forged. A friendship born when a 7-year-old, who was fighting for his life, met a baseball superstar who could not, would not, forget Tyler.
Rolen will be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday in Cooperstown, New York. Pam will be there. She wouldn’t miss this moment for the world. She will be Rolen’s guest at the Cardinals reception the night before his induction.
There is no way Rolen would let the biggest moment of his career pass by without a piece of Tyler with him.
“It would always have been so easy for Scott to walk away,” Pam said. “He had done his deed. He had met with a boy who had cancer.”
But Rolen kept coming back, without anyone asking, to comfort her dying son.
“He was willing to enter into my son’s suffering and our family’s pain and all the emotions that come with that,” Pam said. “He was with us when he really didn’t have to be. He did a great thing.”
‘We think he has leukemia’
Rolen first met Tyler when he was in second grade at Woodbrook Elementary, just months after his cancer diagnosis. Rolen invited Tyler and his family to hang out in April 2003 at Busch Stadium and attend a Cardinals game.
As Rolen sat in the clubhouse with the family, as he took Tyler to the locker room, as he posed for photos with the family on the field, he learned of Tyler’s story. And he learned about that awful day leukemia came into his life.
Tyler was the oldest of three siblings and he was that quiet, typical, firstborn child. He was obedient, respectful, a rule follower and he was a super athlete. As Pam says, “He was just the perfect kid.”
Until he wasn’t perfect anymore. Something was wrong with Tyler in December 2002. He had stomach pain and an aching back. He had a swollen eye that would come each night and go away during the day.
Tyler had never really been sick before, maybe battling a stomach virus once, never anything serious. But as he was playing indoor soccer that day in December 2002, Pam noticed her son was struggling.
“He had always been so fast, and he just seemed to not quite be himself to the point where I was like, ‘You’re not trying very hard,'” Pam said. “And now I regret ever saying that because we found out what he had, what it really was.”
Just before Christmas break, Tyler was so tired and in so much pain he had to be carried out of school. His parents rushed him to the doctor where Tyler’s blood work was taken. The doctor looked at the results and told Tyler’s parents he needed to get to an emergency room immediately. “We think he has leukemia,” the doctor said.
Further tests revealed Tyler had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, the most common childhood cancer. It occurs when a bone marrow cell develops errors in its DNA. The family was scared as they heard the words “chemotherapy” and “stem cell transplants.”
“I was kind of on this ship without a rudder for a while,” said Pam. “But really, from the beginning, it was Tyler that set the tone.”
Inside his hospital room, Tyler was given a book. It was a child therapy workbook for kids going through health battles. On one of the first pages, Tyler was asked to fill in the blanks: “Now my life is (blank), because (blank).”
“I remember looking over after he completed that page and I was stunned,” said Pam. Tyler had written, “Now my life is ‘new’ because I got ‘cancer.'”
In Tyler’s mind, cancer wasn’t awful. It wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t a reason to cry. Tyler’s life was new because he got cancer. It wasn’t bad. It was just different.
“That just touched me in a way that, wow, this kid’s beyond amazing,” said Pam. “He just wanted a normal life. That was such a blessing because it really set the tone for how we, as a family, handled it. We just treated him like a regular kid.”
And not long after that, Tyler became a regular kid who met a baseball player named Rolen and Tyler’s new life became extraordinary.
‘We’ll never see this guy again’
That first meeting between Rolen and Tyler was set up by Tyler’s gym teacher at Woodbrook, Tom Linkmeyer, who was involved with the Indiana Bulls Baseball organization. He wanted to do something nice for Tyler. Rolen was a former Bulls player.
In April 2003, Rolen met Tyler in St. Louis. He took him on the field, he took him to batting practice and then he took Tyler down to the locker room to meet all the players.
Tyler came back with a pile of memorabilia — photos, hats, signed baseballs and bats, and memories that brought a smile to a boy battling cancer.
“Scott was a great guy, just a super guy,” said Pam. “But, at the time, I thought, ‘This is amazing. It’s great for my son, but we’ll never see this guy again, which is fine.’ I just thought it was a one-time thing that would happen.”
That wasn’t the case. The relationship between Rolen and Tyler blossomed. Tyler would write to Rolen and Rolen would write back. Rolen rejoiced when Tyler’s cancer was in remission, and he grieved when Tyler would relapse. He called him, wrote him, visited him in Carmel, pampered him at Busch Stadium and was there for Tyler when he needed him most.
IndyStar reached out to Rolen to talk about what he did for Tyler, but did not get a response. Pam isn’t surprised by that. Rolen never wanted any coverage from media for the wonderful things he did for Tyler.
“He just wanted to spend time with Tyler and focus on him,” said Pam, “rather than pose for pictures and make himself look good.”
Rolen was elated in May 2004 when Tyler received his bone marrow transplant, which engrafted quickly. Everyone was hoping for a new, healthy life for Tyler.
But months later, bloodwork revealed that Tyler’s cancer had returned. It was September 2004. The Cardinals were in the playoff series against the Los Angeles Dodgers, yet Rolen called Tyler.
“During one of the most important times in his baseball career,” Pam said, “Scott unselfishly reached out to my son and made him smile once again.”
Weeks later, at Rolen’s fundraiser for his E5 Foundation, he gave Tyler a Scott Rolen glove mounted on a stand engraved with the words: Strength, Courage, Love. When Tyler was called up to the podium, Rolen lifted him up and Tyler pulled a gift from his navy blazer.
Tyler handed Rolen a $2,000 check, money he had raised on his own, and asked him to build a treehouse at Camp Emma Lou, a retreat in Bloomington Rolen was building for children facing struggles.
As Thanksgiving approached, Tyler was well enough to go see the land that Rolen had purchased to build Camp Emma Lou. Tyler rode around the property, surveying the land that would one day hold his treehouse.
Two weeks later, on December 11, 2004, Tyler died in his sleep.
Following his death, a national radio auction with “Bob & Tom” and local professional athletes raised more than $200,000 to help build Tyler’s dream. Today, Camp Emma Lou boasts “Tyler’s Treehouse,” a 3,000 square-foot structure that includes a castle, pirate ship and firehouse.
“Tyler clearly understood that though he might be on this earth briefly,” Pam said, “his inspiration could last forever.”
‘Huge wings he never showed us’
Tyler would be 28 years old, and Pam has no doubt he would be an amazing man, “because he was the wisest person I’ve ever met,” she said. “You know, he just taught me everything.”
Pam had always wanted to write Tyler’s story down on paper. When she learned of Rolen’s hall of fame induction, she thought it was the perfect time. She wrote a piece titled, “The Man Behind the Golden Gloves.” It was a tribute to a baseball superstar who was so much more than that.
Rolen hasn’t read Pam’s story. She sent it to him, but Rolen told her he didn’t need to read it. He knew it would be great.
Pam knows Rolen doesn’t want his good deeds splashed all over the media. She always respected his privacy. But this time, Pam had to let the world know what Rolen did for her son.
“Scott Rolen did a noble thing one day in 2003, answering a call to reach out to a boy with cancer,” she writes in her story. “The two forged a remarkable bond, becoming heroes to each other. That’s what happens when you humbly use your gifts to bless others.”
At Tyler’s funeral, Rolen recalled the last time he saw his young friend. “I wanted just a second by myself with Tyler and I wanted it to be special,” he said.
“I walked up and I gave Tyler a hug. I told him, eye to eye, ‘Tyler, I love you.’” And he looked at me as if to say, ‘I know that, Scott.’ And he just looked at me and said, ‘I love you, too, Scott.'”
Rolen’s wife, Niki, was at Tyler’s funeral, nine months pregnant with their baby girl. Rolen pulled out a letter Niki wrote, after Tyler died, to their unborn daughter, about how she got her middle name. It read in part:
I received a phone call from your Daddy. He was wildly upset, a rare occurrence. His superhero had passed on to a fantastic afterlife … (Tyler) had wings, I tell you, huge wings, which he never showed us … So when he was called to leave, your Daddy ran outside and pleaded with the sky. But it was time, and (Tyler’s) wings began to open, spreading miles long, and his toes scraped the ground. As he looked back and smiled at your Daddy, the skies whispered your middle name and you became: Raine Tyler Rolen.
“I love that little boy with all my heart. And I’m going to miss him every day of my life,” Rolen ended his eulogy. “I want to thank you, Pam and Eric, for letting your little boy touch my life and enrich my life and my daughter’s. He will live on in us for the rest of our lives.”
Follow IndyStar sports reporter Dana Benbow on Twitter: @DanaBenbow. Reach her via email: dbenbow@indystar.com.
