I never saw Pete Rose play. I never got his autograph. I’ve never met him. He’s still my hero. Oh, I wish I had seen him play. I wish I had his autograph. And I still hope to meet him,
I never saw Pete Rose play. I never got his autograph. I’ve never met him.
He’s still my hero.
Oh, I wish I had seen him play. I wish I had his autograph. And I still hope to meet him, to shake his hand, to have him sign my Pete Rose scrapbook. Growing up in Seattle, summers revolved around the Cincinnati Reds and Pete Rose. I became a switch-hitter in Little League because Pete Rose was a switch-hitter (sadly, I believe I had three career hits and struck out more than any little kid should). Not sure when or why this long-distance love affair began, but it did and it’s lasted a lifetime.
In a game where statistics reign supreme, Charlie Hustle’s speak volumes. Start with 4,256 career hits, a mark that will never, ever be broken. Someone could play from the age of 20 to 40, average 210 hits a year, and still not get there. He won three titles, an MVP, three World Series titles, Rookie of the Year and two Gold Gloves. By the way, you’ll never convince me the 1975 World Series between the Reds and the Boston Red Sox wasn’t the greatest ever and Rose, in case you were wondering, hit .370 and was the MVP. The Big Red Machine destroyed the Yankees in four straight in the ‘76 Series to stake their claim as one of the greatest teams ever. It was a lineup of superstars — Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, and Ken Griffey — but it was Rose, from his leadoff position in the lineup, who was their leader.
But numbers aside, Pete Rose, in a playing career that stretched from 1963 to 1986, was perhaps baseball’s greatest ambassador. Unlike today’s overpaid, pampered athletes who rarely say anything worth remembering, Pete was colorful and gregarious. Win or lose, he stood in the spotlight and answered questions, tossed out memorable quotes. Media loved him, as did fans (well, most fans). There was never any doubt, none, that the man who wore number 14 lived and died for baseball. He loved it, more than his own family. That’s how he played, that’s how he coached. So when he was banned from baseball nearly 25 years ago for gambling while coaching the Reds, my love for the game went with him. The passion was gone. Oh, I cheered for Ken Griffey Jr. and rooted for the Seattle Mariners back in the days of Randy Johnson and Edgar Martinez and Jay Buhner. But whereas Rose and the Reds were all that counted in my youth, I was pretty much a pretend Mariners fan, didn’t matter if they won or lost. Baseball has never been the same without Pete Rose.
Still, I hope and believe that Rose will be allowed back into baseball, that he will manage again, that he will be placed on the Hall of Fame ballot and he will be where he belongs, in Cooperstown. Maybe last night was a first step.
Pete managed the Bridgeport Bluefish of the independent Atlantic League in their game against the Lancaster Barnstormers in Connecticut in the 5,300-seat stadium. It was his first time in the dugout since 1989.
Yes, it’s a big deal. Ken Shepard, the Bluefish general manager, said that this will be “one of the biggest and [most] influential announcements in not only franchise history, but in professional baseball in the last 25 years.”
Not everyone agrees.
Rose, who at 73 earns money today by signing autographs and selling memorabilia in Los Vegas, is to some a sad figure who deserves no mercy. They see him as a boorish, self-centered lout who did the game of baseball a disservice when he bet on the Reds at the same time he was their manager. They call him self-absorbed who only admitted his guilt when backed into a corner.
They would be wrong.
It took time, but Pete owned his mistakes. He’s paid a steep price, banned from the national pastime. He’s asking for a second chance. If you took a poll of baseball fans and asked if Rose should be reinstated, it would be overwhelming supportive of him. Ask sportswriters. Ask MLB players. Ask your parents. The majority will say it’s time to let Rose back in the game.
Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig, who leaves office Jan. 24, could make it happen. He has the power. Will he? It makes sense. He could end this debate by lifting baseball’s ban on one of its greatest players, whose greatest crime was betting on his team to win.
“I really believe there’s a chance,” Rose told USA Today. “Hey, when I met with Bud. I would have bet everything I own that he was going to reinstate me when I left his office.”
“The guy who shot the Pope, he got a second chance,” Rose said. “That’s all I’m asking for, a second chance. I’ll make the most of it. I’m not whining. I was the one who screwed up. I made some mistakes. But come on, it’s been a quarter of a century.”
I’m with you, Pete. Always have been.
