14

I had two heroes during my childhood.
My grandfather and Pete Rose.
Growing up a boy in an Ohio small town during the seventies, you were expected to have an opinion on which Cincinnati player was the best on the Big Red Machine. Seeing how many chose the bopper, Johnny Bench, i chose the scrapper: Charlie Hustle. I modeled myself on the guy with the dirty uniform, always giving everything. I suppose i may have already had an inkling that i was never going to be the biggest of the bunch, so the choice made sense in that sense too. As Cincinnati was on the other side of the state, i think i only ever saw the Reds play live once, but that hardly mattered. Pete's 44-game hitting streak in '78 had me glued to the paper...and no less so the day after the streak ended. The first sports poster to ever hang on my wall was #14.
I cried (well, not literally, boys didn't cry in our house) when Pete was traded to the Phillies in 1979. I was eleven. I went into a limbo, not wanting to be a Phillies fan (Dad's team!), but knowing i could never not root for Pete.
And then...a stroke that almost seemed like divine intervention, which cemented my boyhood affection forever. Six months after Pete was traded, Dad got a promotion necessitating a move to the Philadelphia suburbs.
I thought about the ways the move might affect my life...but my first thought wasn't about any of that.
Pete went to Philadelphia.
Me too.
His Philly years were great. The teams were bursting with personality. Dad took us to at least one or two games a year. We named one of our dogs, the best dog ever, after Pete. In 83', ex-Reds Joe Morgan and Tony Perez came to town. I wasn't a Phillie fan officially, but when they won the championship in 1980, Dad told me to get my trumpet. He got a pot and ladle. We took to the street, blowing and banging.
When Pete was traded to the Expos in 1984, i was sixteen and discovering creative passions that were far more exciting than sports had ever been. I was still sad though, not imagining i'd be moving to Montreal. When he returned to Cincinnati later that year to be player-manager, i was delighted...he was back home. I happily followed his final three seasons as a player. My memory is hazy, but i remember being keenly aware of his .300 lifetime batting average being endangered. It may have even dropped to .299 for a week or two. I almost wanted him to retire, rather than risk sub-.300. When he dropped the "player" from "player/manager", i continued to follow the Reds. In 1988, i acquired one of the most cherished possessions of my life. A couple years before, my father had met hall of famer Stan Musial on an airplane, and they ended up having drinks together when they landed. Stan sent four signed baseballs to us, one for each of the kids. Remembering that the NL career hits record had belonged to Musial before Pete, i thought how amazing it would be to have both of their signatures on the same ball. During my sophomore year of college, Paul Kleba, one of my dorm buddies, told me he was going to a Phillies/Reds game, and would be seated near the field. He told me he could get Pete's signature on my ball. I happily trusted him, and got more than i bargained for. The ball that returned to me had signatures from Musial and Rose...and Johnny Bench.
And......
Shane Rawley.
Paul said that Rawley was standing with them when it was signed, and offered to sign too. How do you say no to a major leaguer, he said?
I love that ball, and somehow i love Shane Rawley too.
Then in 1989, darkness fell on Pete's career.
Fired as manager.
Banned from baseball for life.
For betting on the game. The implicated sin was that he bet on Cincinnati while managing them. Was i at least allowed to assume he bet on them to win?
I remember not being particularly outraged. I didn't say anything against him, nor did i rush to his defense. I didn't feel particularly compelled to have the "truth" revealed. Strange reaction for a high holy advocate of honesty. Even now, i wonder why it wasn't handled differently. Why wasn't he given the chance to quietly resign, with an unspoken lifetime ban? Pete's banishment dragged the sport down as much as his own reputation.
But then, it's possible that just such an arrangement was offered, and arrogantly rejected.
As for the debate over whether he belongs in the Hall of Fame...i hesitate to come down hard on either side of that issue. It turns my stomach to think that steroid users will be elected, yet without doubt some already have. It's hard to imagine anything Pete might have done that doesn't pale in comparison. But...if we were to place his actions on another manager, say Tommy Lasorda, i'd swiftly support a lifetime ban. Take it one step further however, to propose that Lasorda had a separate Hall-worthy career as a player, and i'd have a hard time justifying his ineligibility.
These days, when Dad asks whether i'd like to visit the Hall with him, i tell him i'll not set foot there until Pete's in. Is part of the reason my growing apathy toward spectator sports as a grownup? Sure. But there's truth there too.
I'm just someone who had a boyhood hero. Might i not like that hero in person? Of course. But that's beside the point.
The point is that in my own hall of memories, he'll never be banished.
He'll always be in some corner of my spirit.
Hustling.