I still remember every pitch of my first major sporting event. My hot dog had never tasted so good, and it was the only time I didn’t mind sharing my soft drink with my little brother and sister. Just having a seat at the old Crosley Field in Cincinnati was everything a 10-year-old dreamed about.
It was May 28, 1968. It was a Tuesday night game, and my dad said I didn’t have to go to school the next day. Best time ever.
I had a massive steel beam before me, but I didn’t mind. I had to lean to my right to see Dodgers pitcher Don Sutton or Reds pitcher Jim Maloney throw, then quickly shift to my right to see the batters swing. I was impressed with a young catcher named Johnny Bench. What an arm. But my favorite player put on a show. Two singles, a double and a triple. He played right field that night and was a perfect 4-for-4. And as advertised, he was all hustle and determination.
Pete Rose was my favorite player in 1968. He’s still my favorite player and always will be.
The Reds have torn down Crosley Field and replaced it with a more modern Riverfront Stadium. Riverfront suffered the same fate when it became outdated and was replaced by the Great American Ball Park.
No matter how many stadiums are transformed to accommodate luxury and corporate suites, baseball is still a game of hitting, throwing, running and catching. And nobody did it better than Pete Rose.
Sure, he had his demons. If we’re honest, we all do. But we aren’t judged by a group primarily comprised of hypocritical Sports Writers’ Association of America members. They must cover the sport for at least 10 consecutive years and sign a code of conduct. Rose was banned from baseball in 1989 for betting on baseball while he was a manager for the Reds. The sport considered that a cardinal sin, although you can now legally place bets in 14 of the 30 Major League Baseball stadiums, including Cincinnati.
Rose denied gambling while he was a manager – he was never accused of gambling while he was a player – for 15 years, but he came clean in his autobiography “My Prison Without Bars.” Many believe that denial is why sportswriters insist on keeping him out of the hallowed grounds at Cooperstown, New York.
Rose has the record for hits at 4,256. Ty Cobb is second with 4,189. There are no active players within 1,000 hits of Rose.
Rose belongs in the Hall of Fame as a player. Where he defamed the game was as a manager, and they are different circumstances. All gambling evidence proved he only bet the Reds to win, which means he never threw games. He not only played his heart out for the team as a player, he backed up his faith in the organization with his wallet.
Other all-star players aren’t in the Hall of Fame for misdeeds, like Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Rafael Palmeiro, Manny Ramirez and Alex Rodriguez. All were suspended for using performance-enhancement drugs.
Unlike Rose, using steroids affected the game. It made them bigger, faster and stronger. It helped them recover quickly from injuries. Rose didn’t gamble as a player. He played harder than everyone else every night. The only effect he had on the game was his talent.
Rose will come home on Nov. 10. There will be a 14-hour visitation at Great American Ball Park, and tens of thousands of fans are expected to honor the legacy of the man they called “Charlie Hustle.”
The Reds will also celebrate “Pete Rose Day” on May 14.
I hope the BWA members take notice on Nov. 10 and see they are out of touch. Their sense of righteousness has become a folly. Baseball doesn’t belong to a small group that believes they’re responsible for protecting the game’s morality. It belongs to fans like me who are willing to sit behind steel beams and happily sway back and forth to see our favorite players.
Like Pete Rose.
