Don't bet on it Pete Rose should not darken another clubhouse or front office as an employee. AP

By B. Duane Cross

The 1919 Black Sox can rest easy; they're off the hook. Peter Edward Rose is now the blackest eye ever for the national pastime. And if Bud Selig lifts the lifetime ban on Pete Rose, the commish will further tarnish his tie-dyed legacy.

Quite simply, Rose should not be reinstated -- now or ever.

For 14 years, apropos considering that was his uniform number, Rose has looked into our eyes and maintained that he did not bet on baseball -- the game's cardinal sin. And for 14 years, some of us held him to his word. After all, the Hit King wouldn't hustle us, the kids who grew up sliding head-first on sandlots across America.

In Pete Rose: My Prison Without Bars, Rose says his daddy taught him two things: baseball and responsibility. Of the first, there is no doubt. The second remains to be seen. Just because Rose is coming hat-in-hand does not mean that he has learned a life lesson.

What it means is that Rose knows his window of opportunity for getting into the Hall of Fame is closing. If he is not reinstated by December 2005, his candidacy falls to the Veteran's Committee. The baseball writers are more likely to give Rose a pass; the vets don't look to be as inviting. Considering that, Rose's latest attempt to get into the good graces of the game comes across as being as irresponsible as betting on baseball.

In light of his admission of guilt, Pete Rose is not good for baseball. The lesson learned is not worth the potential scrutiny the game faces. If Selig wants to make a ruling so that Rose is eligible for the Hall of Fame, no problem; there are others with questionable character already enshrined. But Rose should not be allowed to darken another clubhouse or front office as a team's employee.

Do the Hustle Fourteen years away from the game that defines Pete Rose is enough. Allen Steele/Getty Images

By John Donovan

Pete Rose has been a lot of things in his lifetime. Scoundrel. Gambler. Fighter. And, yes, a heck of a baseball player. Now, after the confessions in his new autobiography, we can add one more entry on that list: liar.

Of course, a lot of people figured that one out already.

If you're feeling betrayed these days, if it seems as if that magic carpet you've been standing on suddenly has been jerked from under your feet, if you're feeling downright hoodwinked by the Hit King ... well, sorry. Waking up is hard to do.

The surprise here, for anybody, shouldn't be that Rose bet on baseball, or even that he bet on his own team as manager of the Cincinnati Reds. John Dowd pretty much scooped Rose's book on that.

The surprise, especially for those wearing Rose-colored specs, is that he's confessed to it. Rose is a stubborn guy. It's one of his finer attributes. It helped him hang around the big leagues long enough to beat Ty Cobb's hit record. To see him humble himself now is so un-Rose like. It's like seeing him walk to first or slide softly into third. It's like seeing him with a good haircut.

Still, even Rose's mea culpa has its seamy underside. He's confessing, of course, because he wants something. He wants back into baseball and confessing, now, probably is the only way he'll get there.

The fact is, we knew he bet on baseball. We knew he lied about it. Now we're left to decide what Bud Selig must decide. And that is this: Has Rose paid his penance?

The answer is yes. Fourteen years away from the game that defines him is enough. Rose -- yes, even Rose the Liar -- deserves reinstatement.