The Pete Rose Conundrum
After the death of baseball's controversial hit king, the debate will continue on whether Charlie Hustle deserves a Cooperstown plaque
A woman’s voice picked up on the other end of my call to Pete Rose.
“Um, may I ask who’s calling please?”
After identifying myself and the outlet I was writing for, there was a brief pause before the gravelly voice of baseball’s hit king spoke.
“Hello?”
I was writing for Forbes then, and called Rose to see if he had seen or heard about the recent tweet (now X) by Rod Carew, where the Hall of Famer had written that if baseball “can embrace gambling to the level of putting it in the stadium they can forgive Pete and recognize him for the Great he is.”
It was another influential baseball voice sounding off in support of Rose – and calling out the hypocrisy of the league and its partnering with sports betting companies to generate a new billion-dollar revenue stream. Carew also asked in a separate tweet: “How can you keep Pete Rose out and have a sportsbook at the Reds stadium??”
“Well, that was obviously nice. It was good for me to hear,” Rose said on the call with me. “Always had a lot of respect for Rodney. Any time you get guys like that in your corner, it can’t hurt. It’s got to help.”
But like with anything surrounding Rose’s banishment from baseball and his firmly-entrenched spot on the sport’s ineligible list, it’s complicated.
It was early 2023 when I called Rose, six months after he made an appearance at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia as part of a 1980 Phillies World Series championship team reunion, and only a few months after he had written a letter to baseball commissioner Rob Manfred, yet again requesting reinstatement. Manfred denied the request, like he had done the previous time Rose sought reinstatement in 2015.
(Rose, second row, second from l. in white cap, at Citizens Bank Park in August 2022)
I was at Citizens Bank Park that scorching August day when the ’80 Phillies were feted, working on a feature about Steve Carlton for the Philadelphia Inquirer. I had already talked with Rose for the Carlton story, and he had given me some money quotes about the Hall of Fame lefty. But as Rose was capable of doing over the years during his baseball purgatory, he managed to seize the headlines for all the wrong reasons during that Philly appearance, calling Inquirer sportswriter Alex Coffey “Babe,” and putting his foot firmly in his mouth during his brief exchange with her.
While that story went viral in the ensuing hours, the home crowd gave Rose the biggest ovation when the ’80 Phillies were introduced. Rose, clad in a No. 14 powder blue Phillies jersey, a white Phillies cap, dark slacks and multi-colored clown shoes, shuffled across the infield and waved to the Philly faithful.
Fan adoration seemed to be the one positive left in Rose’s life at that stage — as well as the occasional booster support by a baseball peer. When I asked Rose on the 2023 call if he felt like a remark by Carew could help push the needle in a favorable direction for him, the hit king instead said he was resigned to being on the outside of Cooperstown looking in.
“Hell, if Willie Mays or Hank Aaron, who’s gone now, or (the late) Stan Musial, who I played against, if any of those guys said the same thing that (Carew) said, I don’t think baseball’s gonna move on that,” said Rose. “To be honest with you, I’ve kind of given up on the Hall of Fame. I’ve been turned down so many times, I can’t see Mr. Manfred changing his mind.”
Rose even alluded to his own mortality and how it would have no effect on Manfred’s or baseball’s stance.
“I’m the one that screwed up and if they ever decide to give me a second chance, I’d be with open arms understanding,” said Rose. “Baseball has made up their mind on me. I could tell them I’m going to die tomorrow and they wouldn’t change their mind.”
With Rose’s death Monday at age 83, the debates are certain to continue on whether Rose will ever get reinstated — now posthumously — by Manfred or any subsequent commissioner.
Since I was born in Dayton, Ohio in 1968, I was a Big Red Machine fan during childhood, even after my family moved to suburban Philadelphia when I was 2. I remember watching the 1975 World Series — I had three older brothers which gave me some slack on weekday late nights — on a grainy TV screen, crying after the Game 6 Fisk homer, and then rejoicing when the Reds finally slayed the Red Sox in Game 7. It was Johnny Bench and Will McEnaney splashed across the Sports Illustrated cover after the ’75 Series win, but Rose won MVP honors.
When he came to the Phillies, Rose largely carried the team to its first title in 1980, and by then, I was already pulling for the hometown club. I waged an ongoing gag with my sports-loving grandmother during that time, and it involved sending each other a Pete Rose button. She despised Rose, whereas he was one of my baseball idols.
Rose amassed 4,256 career hits — he had at least 200 hits in a season 10 times (!) — and won those three World Series rings as a member of the Reds’ 1975 and ’76 teams and then with the 1980 Phillies. He was National League MVP (1973), and came the closest to matching Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hit streak when Rose hit safely in 44 games during the 1978 season (with Cincinnati). Rose played the game old school, diving headfirst into a base, the gritty style which earned him the “Charlie Hustle” nickname.
But all the accolades and fame went down the drain in 1989, when he was banned for life by then commissioner Bart Giamatti, and instantly became the sport’s poster boy for gambling sins, alongside the 1919 Black Sox. The recent Hall of Fame snubs of Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens – for their performance-enhancing drug links – is maybe the only comparable fall from baseball grace. Those two men, however, made it onto a Hall of Fame ballot, whereas Rose may never get that chance.
During a 2014 promotional event in Bridgeport, Connecticut – a decade after his tell-all, “My Prison Without Bars,” was published and in which he admitted to his baseball gambling transgressions as a player and manager – Rose was wearing a Bridgeport Bluefish jersey and managing in the independent Atlantic League.
I covered that event, and Rose was his usual quotable self, offering contrition at times – “I’m the one that screwed up” – but also stating that the spectacle wasn’t designed to curry favor with then commissioner Bud Selig, who would step down in a matter of months. Riiiiight.
Rose even admitted that “the ban is going to outlive me.”
“Sure, everybody would like to go to the Hall of Fame,” Rose told the assembled media. “I’m not in control of that. I was as a player. I took pretty good control of it. But I screwed that up. Who’s gonna go whining?”
Always love how you intertwine personal anecdotes in your stories. I dig the authenticity!
Great piece Cred!