Thorny issue

Rose's Hall pass has more to do with the board than Bud

The news that baseball commissioner Bud Selig may reinstate Pete Rose and end his lifetime ban from the sport has reignited what has to be the most popular barstool debate this side of "Mary Ann or Ginger?" (Or, in the more liberal circles, "the Professor.") Sports fans never tire of arguing whether the Hit King belongs in the Hall of Fame, even though the right answer is so clear: He does, of course. Usually, it's the sense of outrage that Rose isn't in Cooperstown that carries the debate.

Yes, this is a nuanced case (we're not going to delve into the many details here; they're well-documented) but there's no public evidence to support the allegation that Rose gambled as a player (the evidence brought to light refers to when he was managing) and zero proof that he compromised the integrity of baseball. There is plenty of public evidence that Rose was baseball's most exciting player since Jackie Robinson, that his style of play changed the game for the better and that he has nearly as many base hits as Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle combined.

For more than 20 seasons, Rose gave us our money's worth and much, much more. Question his integrity? The next time you see the Mr. Biceps slugger on your favorite team fail to run out a ground ball, consider his integrity. The next time you see a major league hitter incapable of laying down a sacrifice bunt, consider his integrity. Millionaire ballplayers cheat fans every single day in ways Rose never could have.

Selig has one reasonably noble allegiance: to his deceased predecessor A. Bartlett Giamatti. "I could never go against what [Giamatti] wanted," Selig told me years ago, and he has stuck to the position ever since.

Now, in the face of ever-increasing support for Rose, Selig may waver. The most cockamamie twist is the idea that a public apology from Rose should have some bearing on his status. How childish is that? Sincere apologies carry great weight. Insincere, obviously dutiful ones are a sham. If Rose does apologize he'll have his fingers crossed. This is like forcing a first-grader to apologize for calling someone a poopyface. The kid's going to do it again, and you know it.

This is not to say that Rose should be allowed to put on a baseball uniform and come onto the field again. Rose is a gambler. The dog-track greyhounds know him by name. Give him the right odds and he'd bet you on where the sun will rise. He did gamble while he was managing, he likely gambled on baseball while he was managing, and he should never be allowed to manage, coach, or run a baseball team again.

But that has nothing to do with Rose's inarguable worth as a Hall of Fame ballplayer, except for the fact that the Hall of Fame's board of directors inanely clouded the issue. Those board members are to blame for this ongoing controversy, and they're the ones who could solve it.

After Rose was banned in 1989, the Hall's board wrote a rule that anyone on baseball's ineligible list couldn't be inducted into Cooperstown. Board members wrote the rule expressly to address the Rose case, and, brother, it's about the stupidest statute on the books. Get rid of it and a resolution to the Rose case will fall into place. It's a simple solution: Don't allow Rose to impact the outcome of another game, but do make him eligible for the Hall of Fame. Put him on the ballot tomorrow.

It's the ideal, most logical compromise. If the Hall of Fame would just un-write its silly rule, Rose would soon be voted into Cooperstown and we could all go back to arguing, "Mary Ann, Ginger, or the Professor?"

Sports Illustrated senior writer Kostya Kennedy takes sides every Wednesday at CNNSI.com.

 

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