Pete Rose's belated admission that he bet on baseball should be enough to get him in the Hall of Fame, but he should never be allowed to manage again.
Published January 7, 2004
After 14 years of unconvincing denials, Pete Rose has issued a conveniently timed admission that he did indeed bet on baseball games, including those of his own team, while he was manager of the Cincinnati Reds. Confession is supposed to be good for the soul, but this one was especially soulless. It came without a hint of contrition or self-awareness. It also came with a $24.95 price tag, attached to Rose's new book. Surely the Son of Sam law should apply to Rose's effort to profit once more from his crimes.
Yet, unsympathetic a character as Rose has come to be, he deserves to be in baseball's Hall of Fame. Although Rose's place as the sport's all-time leader in base hits owes more to perseverence than raw talent, the on-field achievements are worthy of a first-ballot induction.
The Hall is full of racists and humanitarians, cheaters and Boy Scouts, punks and princes. Sterling character has never been a prerequisite. All the inductees have in common is excellence on the playing field. Other considerations should be irrelevant.
So let Rose have his plaque. And let the plaque catalog his greatest achievements - and greatest sins.
But Rose should never be allowed back in baseball in any official capacity. Rose is said to want to manage again, and at least one owner is believed to be dumb enough to hire him.
So it is important to refute the argument, made by Rose and his apologists, that no real harm is done if a manager bets on his own team to win.
Rose surrounded himself with a retinue of gamblers, thugs and con men. What message did he send them on the days he didn't bet on his Reds? And when he did bet on his team, what prevented him from risking long-term injury to one of his pitchers to win that day's game, even if it hurt his team - and his players - in the long run?
Unlike the more common sins and foibles of other athletes, Rose's misconduct eroded the integrity of the game. Rose deserved to be treated like a pariah for the past 14 years, and his belated, unsatisfying admission of his crimes and subsequent lies doesn't wipe the slate clean.
Rose belongs in baseball's Hall of Fame. But in a larger sense, he doesn't belong in the same company with the Lou Gehrigs, Walter Johnsons, Hank Aarons and Frank Robinsons of the sport.
