Like it or not — and more times than not, I haven’t — Pete Rose has been a defining narrative of my time in town. I got here in ‘88, spent ‘89 on Rose Watch, heard him lie, saw him cry. Watched a man consistently betray the world and himself. Pete has been part of my conversation for 35 years.
He has evolved, if that’s the word, from serial denier to where he is today, an old man on his knees. In November 2022, Rob Manfred might as well be St. Peter at the Gates.
I’ve evolved too. For years, I was with those who believed Rose deserved his punishment. His ongoing flippant behavior and cocky missteps only reinforced my stance. Maybe only Pete would show up in Cooperstown on induction day, to sign autographs. Then there were the allegations involving Rose and a young girl. Which Rose verified when he said he “thought she was 16.’’ Ugh.
But the world turns. Times change, time softens focus. MLB is all-in on gambling now. Rose has been asked to place the first bet at the Hard Rock Casino here, when Ohio launches legal gambling Jan. 1, 2023. Oh, the delicious irony. We chuckle.
I guess it’s easy to retain your morality until money is involved.
Of course, cheaters prosper. They always have in Baseball. Bonds & Co. cheated the game, warped the competition, skewed Baseball’s precious statistics. The Astros won a World Series in 2017 partly by cheating. They still have the trophy and their rings.
At this point, Manfred’s refusal to reinstate Rose doesn’t look noble. Only dated. And petty.
Read the letter. Understand that Rose has done his penance, and then some. He’s like the kid peering through the knothole. Only he’s 81 years old and has been peering for 33 years.
Would the Hall of Fame be tainted by Rose’s presence? If your answer is yes, please skip the Gaylord Perry plaque, avoid the Ty Cobb mentions, turn a blind eye to the racists on display. And whatever you do, don’t view the two Rose jerseys and the helmet in evidence in Cooperstown.
Rose is a part of baseball history. So is hypocrisy.
For years, Rose has said he no longer cared if he made the Hall. He has asked Manfred’s forgiveness a few times, most recently in 2020. Manfred denied Rose’s request in 2015. Before that, Joe Morgan and Johnny Bench had stepped up for Rose, with Bud Selig.
If Baseball reinstated Rose, the Hall likely would restore the eligibility it took from him in 1991. Even then, his admission wouldn’t be guaranteed, but it would return to Rose the dignity and honor he earned as a player.
There exists the thinnest of lines between scorn and pity. It’s where Pete Rose lives today. He has debased himself with this last-ditch appeal to Manfred. The player who never seemed to age, on or off the field, is seeing his own mortality. Maybe it scares him, maybe he rues all the contrition-less years he spent in baseball’s solitary confinement, as tainted royalty. He wrote a book called My Life Without Bars, but seemed unaware of the irony of the title.
Pete was never able to get out of his own way. He remains, without asterisk, the most tragic hero in the history of Cincinnati sports.
It’s time to forgive him. Thirty-three seasons, the second half of his life. That’s enough. Allow the man this, even if only because you recall the joy he brought to the ballpark every day. On the field, Rose was who we wanted baseball to look like.
Reinstating him wouldn’t be a capitulation to a practiced gambler. It’d be a gift of forgiveness to a flawed man. Half a lifetime is due penance.
P Doc,
Ironic, but because I read the comments on Williams’ column this morning, I discovered that TML is available on Substack. I signed up, looking forward to catching up.
I am sure that the Enquirer is getting far fewer clicks since you retired. I know that I am not the only reader who does not go back to the Enquirer’s website several times during the day (once is enough) to check the comments on your column.
Hope all is well in retirement. I am close to joining you there.
Mark Scherzinger
If the Hit King isn’t in the HALL OF FAME it doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned