Smelling Like a Rose

In honor of the Mitchell report on baseball's steroid era, here's some nostalgia from one of the sport's earlier scandals. From my (wait-listed) application to the Columbia University School of Journalism in 2003, completed during a timed test without notes or internet access:

Pete Rose, like many great sports figures of the 20th century, invoke strong opinions in even the most casual fans. A sparkplug of intensity on the baseball diamond, his lifetime ban from the Major League Baseball has provided the country with an almost equally passionate forensics pasttime: Should he be allowed reinstatment into baseball?

In actuality, reinstatement is a two-pronged question. Under current bylaws, his ban precludes him from induction to the Baseball Hall of Fame, clearly the obvious destination for the sport’s all-time leader in hits. However, should he be permitted to profit from a sport against which he has committed perhaps the greatest crime imaginable?

Pete Rose, Charlie Hustle, the great Cincinatti Red player and manager was sentenced to baseball’s death penalty after the then commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti investigated and proved conclusively that while managing the Reds he placed numerous bets on baseball. And worse, he bet on his own team.

In a sport that endured the 1919 scandal in which the Chicago White Sox intentionally lost the World Series after accepting payments from organized crime figures, perhaps only a worse crime would be to bet against his own team.

After much negotiating and what most consider unimpeachable evidence against him, Rose signed a document agreeing to his lifetime ban. However, he has never admitted publicly that he bet on baseball [note: he has since -- to sell a book, of course] nor has he ever tendered any semblance of apology. That person lied, never saw this betting slip, alibi, excuse, not him, his constant litany. He has always contended that he was railroaded into signing that document in the hopes that he would eventually be permitted to petition for reinstatement.

Which, when the appropriate time elapsed, he did. After the sudden death of Giamatti, subsequent commisioners have refused to budge on the original stance, although the current embattled commisioner, Bud Selig, appears to be testing public opinion for Rose in a ploy to boost his own. (Not to mention that of a league that cancelled the World Series a few years back, almost did so again this year, played an All-Star Game without a winner, merged two teams and threatened contraction of another, all the time crying financial woes in the face of contrary evidence.)

And yet, the argument for reinstatement need not be clean-cut. Is it imperative for Rose to be fully reinstated, with the league’s blessing to apply for managing or front office positions with teams and appear at league sponsored events? Or is it possible for him to remain in exile, refused admission to the sport he denegrated and to which he refuses admission of guilt, but still be permitted election to the Hall of Fame?

The Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., houses con-artists, womanizers, gamblers, racists, thieves and players of such moral turpitude as to make Professor Henry Hill Blush with a capital “B.” Babe Ruth, arguably the best in the bunch, was a notorious alcoholic lech. But he sure could hit that ball.

Pete Rose currently makes a very good living sitting in chairs and writing his name. Over and over on baseballs, hats, and posters. He also shares his opinions on his own radio show. One could argue that his current outsider status affords him a great deal of free publicity, allowing him to play the underdog role that won him fans as a player. Only now, he’s against the sports/television conglomerate power structure.

And one could argue that his election to the Hall but exclusion from paying baseball jobs would still permit him the ability to raise the price of all those autographs and maybe spike his ratings.
Basically, the Hall of Fame has never been nor needs to ever be a Hall of Justice. It is a place where best players are honored for their achievements on the field. Regardless of the dubious end to his career, it is where Pete Rose belongs even if he is forbidden to ever step on a field.

His bronze plaque should make mention of his monumental achievements between the white lines. And perhaps space should be reserved for full disclosure of the brash manner in which he blurred some others.

Post Script: Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and all other future Hall-of-Famers should receive similar treatment. A plaque to commemorate their indisputable achievements, balanced by the knowledge they had plenty of chemical help in their later seasons.