Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, September 27, 1994 TAG: 9409270101
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C2 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: PAUL HAGEN KNIGHT-RIDDER/TRIBUNE
DATELINE: WILMINGTON, DEL. LENGTH: Long
Rose to Stocker: ``You would have if you like to win.''
Rose tells a ribald joke, earthy baseball humor, acting it out as he goes. Then he turns serious.
To Stocker, sounding for all the world like a stern professor of hardball arts and sciences grilling a prized student: ``There are only two situations in baseball that a hitter has to think, really think about what he's doing. What are they?''
Stocker, hesitantly: ``Runner on second, nobody out and runner on third, less than two outs?''
Rose beams. His grin widens even further and he pounds the ball into his glove excitedly as he spots Phillies bench coach John Vukovich, another former teammate, near the dugout. He hollers a friendly insult.
And at that moment, it is impossible to imagine Peter Edward Rose, baseball's all-time hits leader, doing anything other than wearing a uniform, talking baseball, standing in the outfield, luxuriating in the game. At that moment, it seems that he is doing exactly what he was born to do.
He can't, of course. The tableau Saturday wasn't what it appeared at first glance. It took place at a minor-league park, Daniel S. Frawley Stadium, home of the Class A Wilmington Blue Rocks. The occasion was a charity softball game between Pete Rose's All-Stars and a team assembled by singer Michael Bolton to benefit the South Jersey Regional Children's Hospital and Bolton's foundation.
Rose can have no legal connection to organized baseball. Former commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti suspended him for life. Officially, his crime was associating with unsavory characters. Off the cuff, Giamatti added, he was personally convinced Rose had committed the most egregious sin in the game - betting on baseball. It is a charge Rose steadfastly denies.
The final twist of the knife was administered after Giamatti's death in 1989 by Fay Vincent, his alter ego. The rules of election to the Hall of Fame were rigged to exclude players who had been suspended from even being listed for consideration.
Rose insists, in his rapid-fire way, that he is fulfilled. He has a successful sports bar and restaurant in Boca Raton, Fla. He rattles off the numbers - 16,000 square feet, 55 video games, 60 televisions - the way he used to be able to recite his baseball statistics. He has a radio show. ``Two hours a night in 110 markets,'' he says, proudly. He talks about the joys of fatherhood, the chance to see his son, Tyler, and his daughter, Cara, grow up. He lists his charitable interests, especially cystic fibrosis, and his promotional work. That should be enough for any one man, he implies.
``I don't have time for bitterness,'' Pete Rose said. He was sitting in a small, bare clubhouse. Every once in awhile, he bounced a softball off the concrete floor, the way he used to spike a baseball on Astroturf after the third out of an inning.
``I try not to worry about yesterday's newspapers,'' Rose said. He was wearing a gray uniform with his name in black script on the front. ``The past is past. I look to the future. I've only changed in two ways. I'm very selective about the people I hang around with. And no more illegal gambling.
``Everybody would love to have the chance to be voted into the Hall of Fame, including me. But it's not in my hands.''
These sentiments are delivered with a smoothness that comes from repetition. Which is not to say that he doesn't mean them. It's just that, well, he didn't crack out 4,256 hits by shrugging off life's obstacles. He cracked out 4,256 hits by butting into those obstacles, like a catcher blocking the plate, until they gave way.
And so, the longer he talks, the more other emotions seep into the conversation. A hint of an ache here. A touch of a sense of betrayal there.
``All I can do is lead my life in a way that makes it difficult for them to turn me down,'' he said. ``And every day that goes by is a plus day in my life.''
He made mistakes. He failed to list all his outside income on his tax returns and did time for the omission. He paid his dues. He is both hurt and baffled that baseball has turned its back on him. ``Because I was what a player should be,'' he said. ``I busted my butt on the field. But I'm gentle as a lamb off the field. I was the best darn ambassador baseball had.''
He admits being stung by the fact that Giamatti sent a letter to a judge, asking leniency for a convicted felon who had testified against him.
``That really disappointed me,'' Rose said. ``That still hurts. But I understand the people who did it. They had a vendetta against me.''
He is 53 years old now. His face is a little more craggy. His uniform fits a bit more snugly. But he still moves with the ease of an athlete and he still has that distinctive short swing and he still hustles.
And, in the end, he still looks at the glass as being half full.
``I'll apply for reinstatement, but not until baseball gets its house in order,'' he said. ``Don't tell me baseball did a fair, impartial investigation of me. Giamatti said he thought I bet on baseball. But he was just going on what was in the Dowd report, which was a bunch of lies. Hell, I'd have thought I bet on baseball if I read that report.''
Rose understands that he had no shot as long as Giamatti and Vincent were in charge. Now that baseball will, it is assumed, eventually hire a new commissioner, things could change.
``But we don't know if the next guy would have the authority to reinstate me,'' he pointed out. ``Timing is everything. If a new commissioner was elected today, I don't know if I'd apply. Timing is everything. Next year is Mike Schmidt's time.
``I'm just going to keep doing good things. Not to make them reinstate me, you understand. Because it's the right thing to do. I'm a good father, husband, businessman ... and I pay all my taxes.''
In the meantime, young players like Kevin Stocker will have only the occasional, fleeting chance to listen, to learn.
``He has a baseball mind,'' Stocker said. ``He has loads of information. It's unbelievable to think of what he did. But after talking to him for just a few minutes, you can understand how he did it.''
by CNB