Pete Rose's thoughts on the Hall of Fame and the spot where his plaque will never be displayed
For the past three decades, Pete Rose's Hall of Fame plaque should have been hung exactly where I know it to be.
It would have been between the Tom Seaver and Reggie Jackson plaques in the middle of a powerful cluster in the plaque gallery. Other than that.
It would have been noticed by thousands of baseball fans by now. Reading that plaque and trying to comprehend that more than 23,000 men have played in Major League Baseball and Pete Rose has received more hits than any other player, I can still picture them.
But in a What-If World in which the Hit King was only known for those 4,256 hits and not for... well, so many other things, that is what could have and should have happened.
Looking at that spot on the Cooperstown, New York, wall and considering the reason why Rose's plaque was missing from this Land of the Legends has saddened me for three decades. As the news of Rose's death on Monday spread, that sadness only intensified.
I have repeatedly stated and written that Pete Rose was the most tragic baseball story I have ever covered. Now allow me to explain the source of that sadness. It comes from the unavoidable realization that his story should not have ended in this manner, like so many others who knew him.
Baseball was Pete Rose's strong suit. In addition, it was a blast to watch him play baseball. He was a daily ball of dust and dirt, line drives and headfirst bellyflops, quips and quotes that made you laugh out loud, and he was a fireball of everything.
At age 22, he won the Rookie of the Year award, won the MVP award, and is still the league leader in hits at 40. Okay, the Pete Rose Show was something.
He had a hit in 44 consecutive games. He beat Stan Musial to become the all-time hit leader in the National League. He now has more hits than Ty Cobb does across the continent. He was a walking, talking history of baseball. Additionally, he knew everything there was to know about the exhibits in that museum.
He was the most enticing baseball figure I ever saw. I also don't say that lightly. I've been debating this for a long time. Every time Pete Rose stepped foot on a baseball field, we couldn't stop watching. When he left that baseball field, we talked about him all the time.
His smile was infectious. After he had walked 1,566 times, he sprinted to first base. He could entertain you at any time by turning on his nightclub act. He has the potential to become the focal point of the baseball universe. Every room he entered had him as the strongest presence.
Imagine if we had talked about that guy for decades.
But the world would never be the same after the truth about Rose's alternate existence emerged. It would have been ideal if gambling had never existed. If only the Hit King hadn't been drawn to so many evil people from that other world. If only he hadn't left behind so many other troubling allegations, especially about how he treated women. If only he had known that he was not immune to attack. When the commissioner, Bart Giamatti, asked him to talk with him about these gambling allegations that the commissioner's office had learned about, he should have taken it all more seriously. If only that had served as a wake-up call rather than the impetus for the suspension that would forever define Pete Rose.
It has been 35 years since I was in that New York ballroom when Giamatti said he was going to ban "Mr. Rose" for life for betting on his own team. When the commissioner said those words on August 24, 1989, I will never forget the hushed sound that filled that room. How is it possible that Pete Rose's career ended in a ballroom rather than a ballpark?
That didn't feel right, but Giamatti's choice wasn't the problem. Because the person he was suspending had taken so many wrong turns and made so many bad choices that he had caused that fate for himself.
However, it transpired that was not the conclusion of the story. Rose had a chance to at least make the Baseball Hall of Fame ballot over the next 15 years, if not to be reinstated and work in baseball. Naturally, you are aware of how that turned out.
He had numerous opportunities to save himself. However, it appeared as though he did the exact opposite of what he needed to do to achieve that. repeatedly and repeatedly.
Mike Schmidt and Joe Morgan, two of his friends, planned a covert meeting between Rose and Bud Selig, the baseball commissioner at the time, in 2002. The Hit King had to be aware that there would never be another chance like this one.
If the league was even considering modifying his life sentence, Selig laid out exactly what baseball expected of him. Rose would have to give up all of her gambling. He would need to stop going to all those racetracks and casinos.
Last but not least was this: He would need to hold a press conference to admit his "crime," confirm that he would wager on baseball, offer an apology to those he had betrayed, and promise that nothing like this would ever happen again. They exchanged hands. Rose then left that meeting and went straight to a Las Vegas sportsbook for an appearance. Everyone around the commissioner was furious. That day forever changed Rose's destiny. It's hard to argue that anyone other than him was to blame.
Since then, I knew exactly how this story would end. Since then, I knew Pete Rose's Cooperstown Induction Day would never happen. Since then, I have been aware that his plaque would never be hung in that particular gallery location. Since then, I knew I would write this column on his death day.
But the fact that I was aware of this coming doesn't make it any less sad.
Can you comprehend that Rose was more to blame for this ending than anyone else, despite feeling that sadness? I think you can. Why aren't they both true? I think having two sets of Pete Rose memories is possible and even sensible.
I'm not going to ban the Hit King forever for the hits, hustle, records, memorable moments, laughs, and fun that came from watching him play baseball. I'll always smile when I think of them.
But the direction he went in the rest of his life — why would I not be sad about that? I wish he had changed so many things when I think about what should have been.
It's odd to think that Giamatti gave him a "lifetime" suspension. And given that the "lifetime" portion of his suspension no longer applies, does this mean that the league might one day allow Pete Rose to be inducted into the Hall of Fame?
Why not? I never understood why the Hall of Fame wouldn't find a way to recognize the man who hit more home runs than anyone else in baseball history.
Why is it not possible to honestly acknowledge the negative side of the story while simultaneously recognizing all of the hits? Why doesn't his plaque allow for both? If I were the "Plaque Czar," I would act in that manner.
However, both you and I are aware that this will not occur. I've met a lot of writers who think Rose did his time, so if he ever appeared on our ballot, even if they disagreed with Pete Rose, the Bet King, they would vote for Pete Rose, the Hit King. But even considering that is a waste of time. It is more likely that Taylor Swift will be on our ballot than that Rose will ever be on the writers' ballot.
And no veterans committee would ever elect Rob Manfred, even if he or a future commissioner ever changed their minds. Two years ago, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens discovered that their door was still shut. Therefore, why would we expect Rose to be any different?
And since he is no longer here, it will never have the same significance. What Pete Rose's Induction Day would have looked like has always intrigued me. Have you not? To hear that speech, how many baseball fans would have congregated on those Cooperstown hills?
Would he have expressed himself that day? What would the other members of the Hall of Fame have thought of him? How many of them would have found a different activity to do that weekend? We would have talked about it for decades and it would have been unlike any other Induction Day.
similar to the Hit King herself.
This will take some time to take hold of you. Peter Edward Rose has always been there to make our lives much more interesting for as long as I have covered baseball. When we needed a column topic on a slow day, he was always available. Additionally, each person who knew him had a story to tell.
One thing is now certain to me. I will never forget Pete Rose's life and times, especially when I walk through Cooperstown's halls and stare at the spot where his plaque should be.
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