Probably to my discredit, I always gave Pete Rose the benefit of the doubt. I believed him when he said he didn’t bet on baseball during his tenure as manager of the Cincinnati Reds (1984-89). I let it slide when he was accused of failing to inform the IRS about his income from autographs and memorabilia.
Even after he finally came clean about his gambling, I continued to argue that he deserved to be in the Hall of Fame based strictly on his record as a player. He holds the all-time record for hits, for Pete’s sake. He won batting titles and MVP awards and three World Series rings (two with the Reds, one with the Philadelphia Phillies).
I overlooked his transgressions because, well, I liked the guy personally and I loved the hard-charging way he played the game. He was a grinder more than a great talent, a lunch-pail guy in an increasingly corporate world. He was always a wise-guy from the ‘hood who loved the action, especially when it came to gambling and chasing women.
Even when he was a rookie, Rose was not an innocent. He was cocky and he could back it up. He studied pitchers and played the percentages. He didn’t walk so much as he strutted. Poorly educated, he was a genius when it came to hitting a baseball. How could a sports writer not like Pete? He never sent anybody away with an empty notebook.
Pete Rose speaks during a pregame ceremony of the unveiling of his bronze statue at Great American Ball Park. (David Kohl-USA TODAY Sports)
But now I’m done with him. His latest admission of bad behavior is more than unacceptable. It’s disgusting. He has admitted to having a sexual relationship with a female in the early 1970s, when he was in his early 30s, with a wife and two children at home, and she was, according to her testimony, “about 14 or 15.”
In Ohio, this constitutes statutory rape, and it makes no difference that Rose says he thought she was 16 when the affair began. Under state law, that is not an acceptable defense. And so the man known as “Charley Hustle” now is “Pete the Predator,” or “Pete the Pedophile.” To me, this crime is much worse than betting on baseball.
My older granddaughter is now about the same age as was the young lady with whom Rose had an affair. She is going through that difficult period between childhood and adulthood. Mostly, though, she’s still a kid, just as was the young woman upon whom Rose preyed.
It makes no difference if both parties say the physical aspect of their relationship was consensual. What’s a child know about consent? All she knew that Pete Rose, an all-time icon in Cincinnati, found her attractive and came on to her. Just thinking about it turns my stomach.
Just a few weeks ago, the Reds honored Rose at Great American Ball Park by unveiling a statue of him. It’s a fine statue of a life-sized Rose sliding headfirst, just as he did as an active player. This was the final piece of the club’s plan to forgive Rose and honor his playing legacy. Previously, they had inducted him into the team’s Hall of Fame and retired his No. 14 jersey.
But now it should all come down.
The Reds should follow the lead of the Phillies, who disinvited Rose from this weekend’s gala reunion that will be built around honoring the 1980 team that defeated the Kansas City Royals in the World Series. The official statement said the decision was a matter of mutual consent between the club and Rose. I would guess it was more one-sided than that.
I do not want to see a predator’s number hanging in Great American Ball Park. I do not want to see his state outside next to the likes of Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, Joe Morgan, and Joe Nuxhall. They were all good and decent men who never disgraced their team or the game.
In our society today, we must take sexual abuse, in all its various forms, seriously. There are too many stories of men beating up women, assaulting them, raping them, and taking advantage of them. A pedophile is the lowest of the low, even in prisons, and no exceptions should be made for a man just because he got more base hits than any major-leaguer ever.
Unsurprisingly, Rose was the agent of his undoing. When he saw that John Dowd, the lawyer who investigated and exposed the truth about his gambling, had joined Donald Trump’s defense team, Rose thought it would be a good idea to sue Dowd for comments he made a few years ago on a Philadelphia radio station.
Among other things, Dowd accused Rose of bringing underage girls to spring training. His comments were reported, but gained no traction. If anything, the media and public seemed to thinking it was more a matter of Dowd piling on Rose than something that should be taken seriously.
Well, the passing of time doesn’t cure everything. I have no ideas if the woman abused by Rose carries any emotional or psychological scars from the experience. I hope she doesn’t. But the point is, it makes no difference how long ago the crime occurred. It’s as ugly today as it would have been then, had anybody known about it.
Knowing what he had done to that woman years ago – and who knows what other secrets he might have? – Rose nevertheless has played the role of the victim, an easy sell to his adoring fans in Reds Country. How does he do that? Has he no conscience? I guess it’s because so many people, including me, liked him. So he has played us like the suckers we are all these years.
Memo to the Reds: Get rid of the statue. Take down the number. It’s the right thing to do. Pete the Predator no longer deserves the benefit of the doubt.
Billy Reed is a member of the U.S. Basketball Writers Hall of Fame, the Kentucky Journalism Hall of Fame, the Kentucky Athletic Hall of Fame and the Transylvania University Hall of Fame. He has been named Kentucky Sports Writer of the Year eight times and has won the Eclipse Award twice. Reed has written about a multitude of sports events for over four decades, but he is perhaps one of media’s most knowledgeable writers on the Kentucky Derby
