Growing up as a baseball fan in Cincinnati in the early to mid-1970s felt as close to heaven as a young boy could imagine. The Reds began the decade by winning the National League Pennant in 1970 and ’72 (before losing the World Series both years). After hitting some bumps in the road in the intervening years, in 1975 and ’76 the Big Red Machine revved to full throttle, winning successive World Series titles, and being compared to the 1927 New York Yankees as one of the greatest baseball teams ever assembled. As a pre-teen Reds fanatic, my life centered around this extraordinary team with its remarkable assemblage of talent. From 1970 to 1977, four Reds players collectively won six — yes six — Most Valuable Player awards. This included the 1973 winner, hometown boy Peter Edward Rose, who passed away at age 83 on September 30, 2024, the vigil of the Feast of St. Therese of Lisieux, who sends roses to those who seek her intervention.
Born and raised in a Cincinnati suburb, practically within a long home run of old Crosley Field, Rose was the least naturally gifted player from among the core of that great team. Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, David Concepcion, George Foster, and Ken Griffey were all blessed with more natural athletic ability than Rose. As an undersized teenager, Rose would not have been drafted by the Reds at all, but for the happy coincidence that his mother’s brother was a Reds scout. The Reds selected Rose in 1960 as a favor to his uncle, with no expectation that he would ever make the major league roster. No other major league team showed any interest in Rose, if they were even aware of him.
Of course, he went on to become one of the most accomplished players in Major League history. In addition to his MVP award in 1973, Rose won three batting titles and two gold gloves, as the best defensive player at his position. He participated in an astounding 17 All-Star games over his 24-year career and holds the National League record for at least one hit in 44 consecutive games. And Rose is the self-described “Hit King,” holding the all-time record for most career hits at 4,256, a record that may never be broken. This is in addition to his score of other career National League and Major League records. At one time, Rose was the highest paid athlete in any professional team sport.
Greatness, against all odds
All those accolades notwithstanding, however, Pete Rose is known by many people not for his triumphs on the field but by his ignominy off it. In 1989, Major League Baseball discovered and documented Rose’s extensive history of gambling on baseball games, including Reds games, in express violation of MLB rules. While no evidence was ever discovered that Rose had bet against the Reds, betting on baseball games itself is high on the list of prohibitions for anyone affiliated with a Major League team. In August 1989, Rose agreed to accept permanent placement on baseball’s “ineligible list,” banning him from any official participation in MLB events. While the National Baseball Hall of Fame is independent from Major League Baseball, it honors MLB’s determination of eligibility. Thus, one of baseball’s most iconic players is excluded from its highest honor.
Over the years, Rose petitioned successive baseball commissioners to be restored to the eligibility list, so he could manage or otherwise be employed in the game he “would walk through hell in a gasoline suit” to play. But those applications were always denied, and Rose spent the last years of his life in Las Vegas, living off the income from countless autograph shows and other (unofficial) paid appearances. Pete Rose, one of my boyhood heroes, became a caricature of himself, a carnival sideshow, more a cultural curiosity than a legendary athlete.
My most vivid personal memory of Pete Rose might be a metaphor for both his greatness and his downfall. In July 1970, when I was 7 years old, my grandmother took me to the Major League All-Star Game at Cincinnati’s newly opened Riverfront Stadium. The game went into extra innings after the National League tied the game with a three-run rally in the ninth. Rose had not started the game, but replaced Henry Aaron late in regulation. In the 12th inning, with the game tied at 4-4 and two outs, Rose reached second base on his and the next player’s hit. When the subsequent batter singled to center field, Rose sprinted around third base and barreled into Oakland A’s catcher Ray Fosse, who was blocking home plate. Rose scored the winning run, while 23-year-old Fosse suffered a fractured and separated shoulder, from which he never fully recovered.
At the time, Rose’s action was both legal and common. No one questioned the propriety of a bowling over a catcher blocking home plate. But this was an exhibition game, the outcome of which was meaningless. Yet Rose played as though scoring that run — and playing that game — was the only thing that mattered in the world. That determination and stubbornness made Rose a great player. But those same attributes made him a flawed man. He was self-made, autonomous, Charlie Hustle, achieving greatness against all odds. Nothing would stand in his way, and he did not need or want anyone’s help. He would prevail, and nothing could stop his sheer determination of will. He could not be stopped. The skinny kid from the west side of Cincinnati had conquered the world.
The myth of self-sufficiency
This was the same pride and myth of self-sufficiency that led to his downfall, as well as to his misguided attempts to be admitted back into the game. With better advice, a large dose of humility, and sincere repentance, it is probable that Rose may have been removed from baseball’s ineligible list, and would today have a bust in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. But the pride that made him one of the game’s great players became the hubris that made him one of sport’s most tragic men. And herein we have a cautionary tale.
Pride goes before the fall, says Proverbs 16:18. Therefore, cautions St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 10:12, if you think you stand strong, take heed lest you fall. Pete Rose stood strong and fell hard. Let us pray that he will again be raised up, this time in humility and gratitude for being given something that he cannot achieve for himself.
Rest in peace, Peter Edward Rose, Apr. 14, 1941 to Sept. 30, 2024.
