What if ... ?

Say baseball does reinstate Pete Rose? What then?

CINCINNATI, April 1, 2005 -- Game time approaches and the crowd at Great American Ballpark is absolutely electrified. There's an almost deafening buzz working its way around the still-new stadium. It's pure excitement. Unbridled anticipation. A heady knowledge that history will be made here tonight.

Huge handmade signs hang over the decks at the glistening park on the Ohio. "We Luv You Pete!" screams one. "It's About $&#@ Time!" says another. "SWEEEET!" reads one, with a big red rose as the exclamation point.

"What about Shoeless Joe?" asks a small one in right field.

Baseball commissioner Bud Selig, looking nonplussed in a Brooks Brothers suit and, as always these days, impeccably groomed, sits in his front-row box by the home dugout. Next to him is his special guest, former Reds owner Marge Schott. She's wearing double-knit slacks (red) and a sleeveless sweater (white) with a big "C" emblazoned across the front. She is smoking a cigarette. Sitting next to her is Schottzie VII.

Some things never change.

And then, he steps out to present his lineup card to the umpires. A roar erupts: "Pete, Pete, Pete," they scream. Marty and Joe, the latter back out of retirement on this special occasion, are in the radio booth. Thousands of people who couldn't get tickets mull around outside the park listening to them, yearning to be part of the history.

Peter Edward Rose, the Hit King, Charlie Hustle, is back in baseball. Finally. The Queen City is absolutely bursting with pride. The game has been sold out for months. Millions of people are tuned into the national TV broadcast. Former Big Red Machine second baseman Joe Morgan, in fact, is in the booth calling the game for ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, ESPN Europe, ESPN Asia, ESPN Down Under, ESPN Antarctica and the Disney Channel.

It's historic, all right. But there is an undercurrent to the electricity in the stadium. There is that unknown. There are the whispers.

Why is Rose, in his first game back as manager, batting Ken Griffey Jr. fifth? The guy slammed 58 home runs in '03, 58 last year. He's on the verge of getting No. 600. The Cincinnati fans love him ... again. Isn't the No. 5 hole a little low?

And why is Barry Larkin still on the team? He had an on-base percentage of .245 in '04. He's lost three steps. He's a little old, isn't he?

And then, of course, there's that other stuff, the whining and debating and foot-stomping that's gone on ever since Selig paved the way, back in June of '03, for Rose to be reinstated. All those Hall of Famers, even No. 5 himself, Johnny Bench, saying Rose shouldn't be allowed back in baseball, trying to submarine his chances for Cooperstown. John Dowd, the man whose report sent Rose into baseball oblivion in the late '80s, claiming the whole thing's a joke. Fay Vincent complaining.

Rose admitted everything, didn't he? Back in '03. Admitted betting on baseball. Even on the Reds. Cried, he did, just as he did when he smacked No. 4,192 that night so many years ago. He swears he didn't ever bet on the Reds to lose. Nobody in Cincinnati thinks he did.

He did his double-secret probation, didn't he? He kept his mouth shut while Bob Boone lost 95 games in '03 and poor Davey Johnson missed .500 by a hair last year. If you know Rose, keeping quiet was a chore.

He's paying off the IRS. He's gone through the whole Gamblers Anonymous thing. He reports to Bud, personally, every month. He's keeping his hair cut.

And now it's the sixth inning and the Reds' starter, some stiff by the name of Neagle, is getting shelled. The fans are edgy. Shouldn't Pete have pulled him by now?

The TV cameras show Rose, head down, hands tucked into the waistband of his uniform, pacing in the dugout. Finally, he reaches for the phone. In the row behind Selig, three men in dark suits and sunglasses simultaneously put their hands to their ears. One of them leans over to Selig. "It's the lefty," he mouths.

As the reliever makes his way to the mound, with the Reds already down 6-1 (Griffey, a solo shot in the fourth), there's a groan from the crowd. The lefty slams his fist into his mitt. He blows out a hard breath. He stretches his face. John Rocker is ready.

Three merciful innings later, it is done. Pinch-hitter Pete Rose Jr. grounds out meekly to second to end the game. The Reds lose, 11-3.

As the crowd files out, a slight buzz still there, No. 14 takes a card out of his back pocket. He makes a mark on it with a pencil, stuffs the card back in his pocket, then sticks the pencil behind his ear.

Pete Rose is the manager of the Reds again. Everything he does from now on -- every phone call he makes, every hand he shakes, every dollar he spends, every friend he embraces, everything he writes down, everything he says, every lineup switch and pitching change he decides on -- will be scrutinized and scrutinized again. Everything.

Why hit-and-run there? Is he throwing that youngster too much? Why doesn't he play so-and-so?

Is he still gambling? Who's he hanging out with? Is he clean?

People will wonder. Some people always will wonder.

Maybe none of that will matter after a while. None of it matters tonight. Tonight, the Hit King is back where he belongs. He is back in the Queen City. Pete Rose is back in baseball.

For good, or not, it's what the fans wanted.

John Donovan is a senior writer for SI.com.