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The Pete Rose Thing

    Hey, everyone. It's quite late again and as I sit here in my study I can see a novel on the shelf across the room. The title is Pete Rose, My Prison Without Bars. It was written by Pete Rose and Rick Hill. It concerns the baseball star's problems with gambling and being forever banned from the sport.
     Years before this was written, I went to Atlanta to see the Braves, one Sunday in July. Being Sunday, it was a day game. Being July in Atlanta, in the enclosed bowl of old Fulton County Stadium, the heat and humidity were unbelievable. Toss in the smell of stale beer spilled on concrete and you have a recipe for an afternoon that could have been better. Of course, I was in my 30's at the time so I fared okay. The Phillies were in town. They had an aging superstar with them. Pete Rose was no longer a Cinncinatti Red but there was a big crowd on hand. Many of them were probably like me, they wanted to see the 'Hit King' play before he retired.
    They called him Charlie Hustle. He certainly played the game hard. I was never a big fan of his. I didn't dislike him but I wasn't crazy about him either. He was a bit of a hot dog and he played on the edge. But that has nothing to do with the story.
    Pete bet on baseball. For those of you who are not sports fans, let me talk about this in detail. The legitimacy of any sport is crucial to its success. For instance, wrestling was never taken seriously when I was a kid because it was quite obviously set up so that the outcome was scripted. There were scandals in boxing as well. In fact, every sport has its scandals. But here's the rub. When a participant bets on the outcome of games he appears in, or manages, then the public view of that sport is no longer pristine. I don't know if Pete did this or not. He shouldn't have bet on any games and he admits that. How are fans to know if things are on the up and up in any particular game if any player bets on any game?
    I can certainly see why Pete was banned from baseball. On the other hand, I am so happy that I did not have to make that decision. When you think about making a grievous mistake and never seeing forgiveness for it, that is indeed tough. People have murdered people and paid for it in ten years.
    I'm not saying I'd allow Pete back in. I'm not saying I wouldn't. Pete travels about these days and does autograph signings at shows around the country. He is getting fairly old, like me. Still no induction in the Baseball Hall Of Fame at Cooperstown. He can not be a part of any type of ceremonies at events sponsored by Major League Baseball. That's got to be tough on the guy. Despite his failings, I'm sure he loves the sport.
    One of my favorite players when I was growing up was Willie Mays. In my opinion, he was the best to ever play the game. After Willie retired, he went to work in a casino and had to stay away from baseball for a while. I got a bit upset about that. Hey, a guy needs to make a living. This was an entirely different situation from Pete's, of course. It was more a matter of perception. Baseball just wants to distance itself from any flavor of gambling.
    It is amazing what a hold that gambling exerts on people. I myself liked to gamble when I was young. I had to quit because I could feel it becoming too great a force in my life. From my teenage years until now, I won't even play a parlay. I certainly don't need another bad habit.
      I walked around the Hall Of Fame a few years ago. Some day I'll tell you all about that. For tonight I'll say this. I saw guys who were feared that were enshrined there. Pitchers who would throw a beanball at someone's head for the slightest provocation. I'll never forget a story I heard about Bob Gibson, the great St. Louis Cardinal. I was a Cardinal fan when I was a kid for several reasons. The Braves had not moved from Milwaukee to Atlanta, for one thing. The second reason was, my brother and I had a transistor radio and we would slip it under the covers at night and listen to the broadcast of the Cardinal games. Anyway, the story goes that a batter stepped up to the plate to face Bob Gibson and dug his spikes into the dirt. Gibson fired a fastball at the guy's head and the batter had to dive to the ground. Bob yelled at him, "Next time you dig in, just go ahead and dig yourself a grave!" I don't know if that's true, but I don't doubt it. Bob was a fierce competitor.
    People like Ty Cobb, the Georgia Peach, are in the Hall Of Fame. Ty would spike opposing players when he slid into a base. He reportedly would file his spikes to razor sharpness and slide in with his spikes up. Like everybody, everywhere, players have their baggage. It doesn't take Jerry Springer to understand that.
     Forgiveness is a funny thing. It has a marvelous healing power. When you are the principal steward of the game, like the Commissioner of Baseball, the load is on your shoulders. Like the sign that used to hang on President Truman's desk. The Buck Stops Here. For my part, I think I might just call a press conference and say, "To err is human, to forgive is divine. Pete, come back home."
    From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.

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