Hall of Fame weekend: Greed is good

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — The fellows in the Cooperstown Rotary Club are pretty crafty. Knowing that the induction weekend is the largest collection of Hall of Famers in one spot anywhere under the sun, the Rotarians have commemorative miniature baseball bats made with each inductee’s superlatives.

At $5 to $7 a pop, it’s a pretty nice bit of cash to be made in a weekend.

But also understanding the mind of the collector, the guys in the Cooperstown Rotary know that there probably won’t be much of a market for certain keepsake bats. For instance, there were piles of Jim Bunning bats from when the former Phillies and Tigers pitcher was inducted in 1996. There were plenty of Eddie Murray bats too.

Could it be because Bunning has created a reputation for being a creep?

However, don’t go looking for a keepsake bat with umpire Doug Harvey’s name on it. There was a run on those last year when Harvey’s family and friends bought them all up.

“We made 50 of them for Doug Harvey and when they walked up and down Main Street and found out there wasn’t anything with his name on it, they snapped them all up,” a Rotarian said.

So thinking there would be a repeat of the run on Harvey mementoes, they made a limited number of Pat Gillick bats, who will be inducted to the Hall of Fame on Sunday afternoon along with Roberto Alomar and Bert Blyleven. After all, Gillick is kind of like an umpire in that he wasn’t known as a player. Plus, there are nine umpires enshrined in the gallery at the Hall of Fame and Gillick will be just the fourth general manager. Better yet, when Nolan Ryan was inducted in 1999, it took 12 years to sell all 300 bats.

In that case, there is no sense in flooding the market with items that might not sell.

Actually, just 50 bats for Gillick might not be enough. That’s especially so when noting that Alomar and Gillick are the first two members of the Toronto Blue Jays to be enshrined here in Cooperstown, and the media and fans contingent from Canada is pretty strong this weekend.

There are so many Canadians in Cooperstown for the induction ceremonies that Gillick had trouble going on a routine walk around town.

“I was out yesterday for a while in the street and it took me about an hour and a half to get back,” Gillick said during Saturday’s Hall of Fame press conference with Blyleven and Alomar.

Undoubtedly, Gillick was hit up for a few autograph requests. Truth is, Main Street in Cooperstown during Hall of Fame weekend looked like a wild bazaar where autograph and memorabilia collectors and dealers trolled the street looking to collect certain signatures on specific pieces. With 51 of the 65 living Hall of Famers in Cooperstown for the weekend, it was as if Main Street was a smuggler’s paradise.

Two men amidst the fray on Saturday afternoon carried a matted poster containing the signatures of 19 of the 20 living members of the 3,000 hit club. The only autograph missing?

Derek Jeter.

Strangely, this piece of memorabilia wasn’t in the museum on display. Instead, it was as if it were Main Street had become overrun with the money changers in the temple from the New Testament. Up and down the street high-priced baseball cards and elaborate, one-of-a-kind signatures were presented for sale and it made one baseball fan wonder…

What is the point of the induction weekend? Were folks in town to celebrate the national pastime or to make a buck off it.

Certainly that idyllic notion of fathers and sons talking about baseball and pouring over memories, memorabilia and exhibits in the Hall of Fame, had been replaced with the quest for collections. But not just any collectible, but instead, collections seen as pseudo-antiques in the form of pricey baseball memorabilia. Yes, it was there, but you had to really go looking for it.

Still, don’t think for a moment the Hall of Famers were being exploited. Oh no. During a two-block stroll down Main Street on Saturday afternoon, one could find most of the Hall of Famers sitting at long tables selling autographs in front of the local shops. On the north side of the street were Goose Gossage, Jim Bunning, Yogi Berra, Lou Brock, Frank Robinson and Gaylord Perry. Over on the other side of the street were Juan Marichal, Andre Dawson, Johnny Bench and the gate crasher, Pete Rose.

Pete Rose’s autograph in Cooperstown could be yours for $60 to $75. Or, one could fly to Las Vegas and go to gift shops in Caesar’s Palace and get it from Pete for free.

No, Hall of Fame weekend isn’t about the cozy images depicted in “Field of Dreams.” It’s more like “Wall Street,” only no one had to be reminded of the catch phrase, “Greed is good.” They already knew.

Howard, Utley have something to fall back on

Ryan Howard and Chase Utley just sat there in straight back chairs with bemused looks on their faces as they watched two drunks wrestle on the floor. Not until they paused to catch a breath with their dress shirts torn open, did the winning lines from the ballplayers help put a bow on the scene.

“I just saw you bite that dude,” Ryan Howard said while appearing as Ryan Howard in the program It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

That was followed by an invitation to wrestle from two of the main characters of the show, played by Glenn Howerton and Charlie Day, who were sprawled out on the floor at PSPCA benefit. Needless to say, charity events for animals have a tendency to get out of hand with grappling and/or fisticuffs popping up throughout a ballroom. It’s a serious business and some folks need to give until it hurts.

However, the invitation to Howard and Utley to join in the wrestling match because they were, “wasted,” was met with a witty rejoinder from the All-Star second baseman.

“No we’re not,” Utley said.

“No, we’re completely sober. But you guys drink a lot though,” Howard added.

“You guys drink more than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Utley finished before the ballplayers shrugged their shoulders and exited, stage right.

And to think, Utley was teammates with Vicente Padilla and has been known to work blue when delivering comeback wise cracks to fans in New York City or the home crowd when expressing delight in winning a World Series. For this occasion, Utley had to defer to the writers to craft his lines—you know, FCC guidelines and all. Plus, he seemed genuinely enthused and didn’t speak in clichés straight out of Bull Durham, unlike in situations with the press at his day job. On an everyday basis, Utley has the charisma of a toilet seat, or maybe he genuinely means that he wants to “stay within himself,” or “take them a day at a time.”

No sense getting ahead of yourself. It’s a long season.

Still, despite the star turn from the All-Star ballplayers, it was hardly the best thespian work by a Phillies player. Granted, it wasn’t bad and the scene in which the players play straight men for Howerton and Day was pretty darned funny. Who knows… it could open the door for more acting work. Howard seems to be branching out from commercials to situation comedies, which shows much more versatility than his work in baseball.

But when Howard paired with Jimmy Rollins for a short feature on the “Funny or Die” web site, the bar was raised pretty high. Here, take a look:

http://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf

Certainly there are fewer limitations on the web than with regulated mediums like TV or the radio. For instance, there’s no way the censors would allow Howard to get away with that dance that mimics Prince. It’s just too funny and a big man shouldn’t have moves like that. It wasn’t quite as wacky as Shaq’s entrance with the Jabbawockeez before the All-Star Game a few years ago, but it’s up there. Then again, word on the street was Howard and his buddy Jared was going to use the same moves in a Subway commercial until Shaq beat them to it.

Our loss. A dance with the Jabbawockeez might be the best way for Howard to make up for the appearance on the HBO show Entourage. No, he wasn’t bad, but that show needs to have the plug pulled. Either that or have an episode where the Fonz goes water skiing in his leather jacket.

Of course Jimmy Rollins is no slouch, either. He might not be working with big stars like Jared or the gang from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but his work in an ad for the sporting goods franchise, Dick’s, is Emmy Award quality. That’s the award they give to TV commercials… right?

Interestingly, when it comes to TV commercials the Phillies doing the acting have delievered nothing short of Olivier quality work. If I recall correctly, Mike Schmidt did a commercial for 7-Up in the early 1980s. It was around that time when Steve Carlton hawked milk in a TV spot, which for many of us who never heard him speak because of his refusal to grant any interviews, was a landmark event. We finally heard Lefty talk and then for a while he wouldn’t stop and it was all we could do to seal up his bunker in Colorado to keep him quiet.

Of course Carlton still turns up for the reunion weekends at the ballpark where he usually sits with the broadcast crew for an inning or two where listening in it sounds as if the ol’ left hander is attending a baseball game for the very first time.

The biggest draw for advertisers was Pete Rose, who shilled for everything from Kool-Aid, Wheaties, Nestle Crunch, and Aqua Velva. Having had the chance to hang with Pete in Las Vegas, it seems as if he was given a lifetime supply of Aqua Velva as payment for doing the ads because one whiff made it seem as if he was trying to use it all at once.

But, you know… it’s Aqua Velva. That’s the good stuff.

A commercial and work in a sit-com are very different. Chances are Howard and Utley spent a long day hashing it out with the pros. There was a lot of improve and the script mostly served as a guideline and direction for the actors. It wasn’t just about standing in front of a camera and repeating lines as the guys told former child actor turned MLB.com writer, Todd Zolecki, last summer.

“I don't really see acting in my future,” Utley told Zolecki.

That’s not quite the case for Howard.

“It was cool,” Howard said to Zolecki. “Once again, it was stepping outside my realm and doing it to see how it would go. Doing 'Always Sunny,' especially doing it with Chase, who everybody knows isn't usually a talkative guy—he did a good job. We had a lot of fun doing it. We were over there just clowning the whole time. It's just something that was out of both of our elements.”

See, they have the modest actor patter down perfectly. Perhaps talking to the press about baseball games where pedantic answers are given as a default has helped with the acting.

Nevertheless, the guys still have some work to do if they want to top Scott Rolen’s performance on Saturday Night Live a little more than a decade ago.

Wait… you missed that one? Don’t worry, Rolen didn’t host it like Charles Barkley has twice. However, Rolen appeared in a sketch with about a dozen ballplayers, including Phillie Gregg Jefferies and Mike Sweeney, in which they magically appeared in the room of a little boy played by Chris Kattan. See, the kid had posters of baseball players on his wall and dreamed of playing in the majors until the guys showed up in his room and acted like a bunch of ballplayers.

They blasted music, swilled drinks, made untoward comments at the kid’s mom before it finally was tied together with the show-stopping line from Rolen…

“Hey, Griffey is naked on the lawn again!”

Rolen not only delivered the line flawlessly on national TV, but he did it on a show hosted by Oscar winner Helen Hunt in which Jack Nicholson made a cameo. Nope, he wasn’t working alongside some dudes in the local community theater troupe. Rolen was trading lines with Oscar winners.

But get this… a couple of years later I told Rolen that I saw his acting chops on the show much to his amusement.

“You know, I can get a Screen Actors Guild card for that,” he said.

“Really? Not bad. A lot of actors would kill to get a SAG card. Do you have it?”

“No. I’m not going to get it,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“What am I going to do with it?”

“Well, what if this baseball thing doesn’t work out. You might need something to fall back on.”

Yes, this conversation actually occurred. Someone should have been filming it.

Is it personal or is it business?

It’s pretty tough to bounce around the Internets without stumbling onto a picture of Derek Jeter, shirtless and hanging out with his fiance, Minka Kelly. That’s just the way it goes when the free-agent market is as tissue-thin as it is this winter, but moreover, that’s the way it is when it’s Derek Jeter.

Jeter, the captain, shortstop, glamour boy and link to the Yankees’ ghosts, has been the hot stove story thus far, mostly because the negotiations with the club haven’t gone all that well. At least that’s the portrait painted by the hyperbolic New York press, where the reports claim there is an $80 million and two-year gulf between the player and his team.

Actually, the consensus is the Yankees are daring to go to another team as if Jeter’s act only works in New York City. You know, because popular players who bat at least .291 in 15 straight seasons heading into 2010 with five World Series rings while just 74 hits shy of the magical 3,000 hit mark have difficulty adapting.

But this isn’t about history, loyalty or legacies. This is 2010 and even though Jeter might be the modern version of Joe DiMaggio, it’s the money that matters.

No, it’s not personal. It’s business.

It’s really a ridiculous phrase if you stop and think about it. Actually, it’s one of those idioms that is an established part of our lexicon that results in solemn nods or resigned shoulder shrugs whenever someone lays it out there.

Well, it’s just business.

What in the name of Gordon Gecko does that mean?

Apparently, it means Jeter and the Yankees are trying to save face. It means if the world is a rat race then it’s OK to be a rat. It means Tessio is going to have to go for a ride with Tom Hagen and he’s not going to be able to talk his way out of it. Not this time.

Tell Mikey it’s just business, it’s not personal.

That’s exactly what this standoff is all about. Jeter doesn’t want to take a cut in the 10-year, $189 million deal he just completed and the Yankees want to stop being the Yankees to guys like Derek Jeter. Instead, the Yankees want to be the Yankees to Cliff Lee and make a deal with the lefty that will make Jeter’s look like tip money. Certainly the three-year, $45 million the Yankees reportedly offered Jeter will look like loose change found in the cushions of the couch compared to what Lee is expected to command.

So what we have here is a situation where one side has to determine the worth of its counterpart. Certainly Jeter is one of the most popular players in the game, and even though he just wrapped up his worst season where he established career lows in batting (.270) and slugging (.370), those within the game rate him as one of the top handful of players. However, at 36, Jeter’s age and defense is an issue. Plus, the Yankees have already paid Jeter more than $205 million in salary where as the Yankees’ captain and shortstop, he is one of the few baseball players with an elite-level Q-rating.

Jeter wants four to five years. These days, the length of a contract is the deal-breaker for most ballplayers, simply because unlike in the NFL, MLB deals are guaranteed. Look at Jayson Werth and the Phillies—in that situation, a deal likely could be brokered for three years, but Werth wants more, and he’ll probably get it. No, Jeter probably doesn’t need the money a guaranteed deal ensures, but if he’s healthy he’s going to get a chance to play with a five-year deal.

Five more seasons could put Jeter on the cusp of 4,000 hits, a milestone reached by only two hitters in Major League Baseball history. In fact, Pete Rose, the all-time hit leader, was exactly 10 hits behind Jeter at similar points in their careers. Rose had just turned 37 when he collected his 3,000^th hit in his 16^th season. Jeter will likely get his 3,000^th career hit around his 37^th birthday in his 16^th season, too.

Interestingly, I met with Rose in Las Vegas a couple of years ago and asked him if he thought anyone could break his record of 4,256 hits. The answer, of course, was a blunt and resounding, “No.”

But I pressed on anyway, ticking off names as if we were a couple of baseball fans talking about the game in a bar or wherever. Only in this case it was Rose, me and the workers at a memorabilia shop in Caesar’s Palace where the all-time hit king was signing autographs and posing for pictures.

“Alex Rodriguez?”

“No.”

Even though A-Rod averages 190 hits per 162 games, his tendency to hit homers and standing in the middle of the Yankees’ offense might make it difficult for him to get beyond 3,800 hits.

“Ichiro?”

“If he would have started out playing in the U.S., maybe. But he lost all those years.”

Yes, that’s true. Ichiro would have the best chance if he hadn’t spent the first half of his career playing in Japan. He is 36 and has nearly 3,500 hits between both Japan and the U.S. and needs just 16 more hits this season to break Rose’s record of 10 seasons with at least 200 hits.

Regardless, Ichiro’s nine “lost” seasons in Japan cost him.

However, the way Rose so quickly dismissed the next name was kind of surprising.

“Derek Jeter,” I said.

“No,” said Pete.

“Really? Why not? He gets 200-hits a season and hits at the top of a lineup that needs his to get hits. Ten years worth of 200 hits or close to it is nearly 2,000 hits. That adds up.”

“Yeah, but he’s 35,” Pete said.

What Rose didn’t mention was that when he was 40, he led the National League in hits. He also played first base in his first four seasons with the Phillies, a far less demanding position than shortstop, and got 705 hits from ages 38 to 41. That comes to an average of 193 hits per 162 games.

Not bad for an old guy.

In another coincidence, Rose was just a year older than Jeter when he left Cincinnati for Philadelphia and the Phillies and WPHL (Channel 17), ponied up a record $3.225 million over four years (with an option for the fifth year) to give the old man. Times were different, of course. With Rose, the Phillies sold more tickets and Channel charged more for ads. Philadelphia also got to see Rose pass Stan Musial for the hit record in the National League. Better yet, the Phillies won the World Series in 1980 made it back there in ’83 and made the playoffs in 1981.

In other words, the Phillies needed Pete Rose.

Do the Yankees need Derek Jeter? Will Jeter help the Yankees sell more tickets or attract more advertisers to their TV network? Probably not. But will he pass some meaningful milestones at Yankee Stadium and help the team get to the playoffs where the cash really rolls in. Additionally, will signing Jeter prevent the Yankees from going after players like Cliff Lee?

Jeter’s value is found in the answer to those questions.

Do or die

There’s something about the Texas Rangers spraying each other with ginger ale and Mountain Dew that made a lot of sense. Yeah, it was a nod to Josh Hamilton’s addictions and another unifying element for a team that looks like it cannot be beaten.

But there’s something about the entire process where the victorious ballplayers are handed the commemorative cap and t-shirt before they enter the clubhouse and can spray champagne and Budweiser beer. And yes, it’s Budweiser because they probably paid a decent chunk of change to sponsor the not-so spontaneous party with posters plastered everywhere.

Yet for the Phillies to get to do what the Texas Rangers did on Friday night, it’s going to take something the franchise has never done before…

Rally from a 3-1 deficit and force a deciding Game 7. The Phillies have been in a 3-1 hole four times starting with the 1915 World Series against the Red Sox. In the ’15 series the Red Sox closed it out at the Baker Bowl behind Rube Foster’s second win. It was the first World Series ring for Babe Ruth, a Red Sox pitcher who batted just once in the series.

Other names to emerge from the Phillies’ misfortune from trailing 3-1 were Rick Dempsey, Joe Carter and Hideki Matsui. Dempsey and the Orioles ended the ’83 World Series at the Vet in five, disappointing games where the Phillies batted .195 and scored nine runs.

Everyone in Philly already knows all about Joe Carter, Mitch Williams and what happened in Game 6 of the 1993 World Series, and Matsui capped off his MVP run with a homer and a double in Game 6 of last year’s World Series at Yankee Stadium.

Needless to say, the 3-1 deficit and the aftermath haven’t been too kind to the Phillies. When a Game 7 has been needed, the Phillies have not been able to do their part.

“As long as I’ve been here, we haven’t had to,” said the potential Game 7 starter, Cole Hamels. “We’ve been fortunate every time we’ve been in the postseason — we’ve been able to, I guess, get the series done and over early. But in this case, we’re playing a very good team on the other side and they’re doing everything they possibly can.”

Before there was such a thing as a best-of-seven LCS, the Phillies did make it to a do-or-die, winner-take-all game in the playoffs. In 1981 they rallied from a 2-0 deficit in the first-ever NLDS against the Montreal Expos only to lose the fifth game when Steve Rogers out-dueled Steve Carlton at the Vet.

But the mother of all do-or-die deciding games was the fifth game of 1980 NLCS at the Astrodome where the Phillies fell behind 2-1 in the series before taking the final two games on the road. That series featured four extra-inning games, 15 lead changes and one game where the Astros won 1-0 in 10 innings.

The Phillies forced Game 5 by scoring two runs in the 10^th inning, the memorable one coming when Greg Luzinski hit a two-out double where Pete Rose bowled over Astros catcher (and current Giants manager) Bruce Bochy to score the go-ahead run. Actually, the Phillies were two outs away from winning Game 4 in the ninth inning, but reliever Warren Brusstar couldn’t stop Terry Puhl from driving in the tying run.

Puhl went 10-for-19 in the series and if the Astros would have advanced to the World Series, his performance would be more than a footnote of the series. Four of Puhl’s hits came in the deciding fifth game where ace pitcher Nolan Ryan—the current owner of the Texas Rangers—carried a three-run lead into the eighth inning.

Before the eighth inning began Rose told leadoff man Larry Bowa that if he could get on base, the Phillies would “win this thing.” So Bowa singled to center and Bob Boone, perhaps the slowest runner in Phillies history, beat out an infield hit back to Ryan. Still with no outs, pinch-hitter Greg Gross (now the Phillies’ hitting coach) dropped a bunt up the third-base line to load the bases for Rose.

Seven pitches after digging in, Rose forced home a run with a walk and forced Ryan out of the game.

Against lefty Joe Sambito, rookie Keith Moreland grounded into a force to plate another run before Mike Schmidt, in his biggest plate appearance to date, struck out looking on three pitches. But Del Unser followed with a two-out single to tie the game, setting the stage for NLCS MVP Manny Trillo to clear the bases with a triple.

Just like that, Ryan’s lead was gone…

Only to have the Phillies lead wiped out by Tug McGraw.

This was back in the days when the closer would come into the game as soon as possible and since the Phillies grasped the lead with six outs to go, manager Dallas Green turned the game over to McGraw even though he had used his ace in every game of the NLCS, including for three innings in Game 3 and two innings in Game 1, as well as three of the final four games of the regular-season when the Phils were trying to fend off the Expos in the battle for the NL East.

McGraw worked a lot in 1980 with little or no rest. Of the 57 games he appeared in that season, 16 were part of back-to-back games and another 12 were with one day of rest. McGraw also finished 48 games, piled up more than 92 innings and missed most of April and July with injuries.

But when September rolled around, McGraw pitched in 16 games for 26 1/3 innings allowing just one earned run. Moreover, when pitching in back-to-back games, McGraw held the opposition to a .092 batting average. Better yet, 11 of McGraw’s 20 saves in 1980 came when he pitched more than an inning.

In other words, going with Tugger, despite the taxing workload, was the move to make.

In the eighth, the Astros rallied with a one-out single from Craig Reynolds, and a two-out single from Puhl. But after Enos Cabell whiffed for the second out, back-to-back singles from Rafael Landestoy and Jose Cruz knotted it up again.

Green also lost McGraw for the ninth for a pinch-hitter, but Game 2 starter Dick Ruthven was as rested as any pitcher available, so it looked as if the right-hander was in for as long as he could go.

Why not? Ruthven piled up 223 innings, six complete games and 17 wins in 1980. He also pitched eight games on just three days rest in 1980, too, making Green’s choice elemental. Ruthven was going to pitch all night if need be.

Fortunately for the Phillies he only needed to pitch two innings.

That’s because Del Unser came through with a one-out double after Mike Schmidt struck out for the third time in the game. When Manny Trillo flied out for the second out, Garry Maddox belted a first-pitch double to center to drive in the run to send the Phils to the World Series. In the bottom of the 10^th Ruthven needed 12 pitches to retire the side in order.

One more caveat about Game 5… the starter for the Phillies that day was rookie pitcher Marty Bystrom, a September call up only because Nino Espinosa got injured just before the playoffs.

Yes, a September call up with just five big-league starts on the mound in the biggest game in franchise history against Nolan Ryan.

Strangely enough, Bystrom said he didn’t know he was going to start the deciding game until the Phillies won in Game 4.

“I hadn’t pitched in nine or 10 days and Dallas came up to after Game 4 and said, ‘You got the ball tomorrow, kid,’” Bystrom said. “I said, ‘I’m ready.’”

Bystrom called that NLCS finale “the toughest game I ever pitched.” More than just the pressure of a game with the World Series on the line, Bystrom recalled that the noise from the fans in the Astrodome was deafening.

“I took a suggestion from Steve Carlton and put cotton in my ears,” Bystrom said, adding that pitching with Rose, Schmidt, Bowa and Boone on his side in the field made things a lot easier.

Green later tabbed Bystrom to start the pivotal fifth game of the World Series in Kansas City – a game best remembered for the Phillies’ ninth-inning rally and McGraw’s heart-stopping pitching to win it.

“It was a moment I dreamed about since I was five or six years old,” Bystrom said of pitching in the World Series. “Then, all of sudden, it was today is the day – this is the day I was dreaming about all of those years.”

Now if the Phillies can force the Game 7…

“We’re going to get to tomorrow,” Manuel said. “I don’t want to say if we get there, because we are going to get there.”

Pete Rose gets just one night

The anticipation had been building for weeks during the summer of 1985 and as the new school year started, 44-year-old player-manager Pete Rose had chipped away at Ty Cobb’s all-time hit record. Maybe Pete got there a little slower than our young minds thought, but with a pair of hits on a Sunday afternoon game at Wrigley Field, Rose and Cobb were tied with 4,191 hits.

Clearly at this point of his career Rose was just hanging on for the record. We saw it when he was winding his way through his last season with the Phillies in 1983. A staple at first base for a full 162 games in his first four seasons with the Phillies, Rose often split time with Tony Perez and an aging prospect named Len Matuszek, who hit 27 homers in Triple-A in ’83. As a result, Rose was the Phillies opening day right fielder that season and did not regularly play first base until the end of June.

When the World Series shifted to Philadelphia for Game 3, manager Paul Owens kept Rose on the bench a pinch-hitter. In Game 5, Rose went 2-for-4 as the right fielder. Three days later, the Phillies released him, just 10 hits short of 4,000.

There was nothing as odd as seeing Rose at age 43 with his hair graying, dressed in the gaudy Montreal Expos uniform. Fortunately for the fashion police, Rose was traded from the Expos to the Reds where the Cincinnati kid returned to be a first baseman and manager, all at once.

Rose will be in Cincinnati tonight for a ceremony to commemorate the 25^th anniversary of his 4,192^nd hit. After all, it was Sept. 11, 1985 at Riverfront Stadium, now leveled and turned into a parking lot, where Rose had his last moment in the sun. Despite all those hits, all those records and a burgeoning managerial career that resulted in a World Series title for the Reds 13 months after his suspension, Rose likely will never stand in front of the masses at Cooperstown and be inducted into the Hall of Fame.

His reward was a bad movie produced by ESPN where Tom Sizemore stumbled through his depiction of Rose. It might have been better to get Ted Sizemore.

Nevertheless, Rose broke Cobb’s record on a school night, but I can remember being out in front of the house when word filtered out that hit No. 4,192 had fallen. There were no cut-ins to the regularly-scheduled programming, no big national celebrations and no buzz outside of folks who followed baseball religiously. For Rose, though, it was the culmination of a life’s work and the definition of his legacy. In fact, he has trademarked the phrase, “Hit King,” which along with his career hit total (4,256), he writes onto every autograph he signs at the memorabilia shop in Las Vegas. Sorry, the “Charlie Hustle” inscription costs extra.

Coincidentally, Cobb played his final game on Sept. 11, 1928, though he was the Hit King since 1923 when he passed Cap Anson with his 3,436^th hit[1]. So Cobb held the record for 63 years—24 years after his death—before Rose grabbed a hold of it. And with his 70^th birthday coming up next April, Rose could hang onto the record for the rest of his life, and maybe even as long as Cobb.

Couldn’t he?

A couple of years ago I met with Rose in Las Vegas and I asked him if he thought anyone could break his record. The answer, of course, was a blunt and resounding, “No.”

But I pressed on anyway, ticking off names as if we were a couple of baseball fans talking about the game in a bar or wherever. Only in this case it was Rose, me and the workers at a memorabilia shop in Caesar’s Palace where the all-time hit king was signing autographs and posing for pictures.

“Alex Rodriguez?”

“No.”

Even though A-Rod averages 190 hits per 162 games, his tendency to hit homers and standing in the middle of the Yankees’ offense might make it difficult for him to get beyond 3,800 hits.

“Ichiro?”

“If he would have started out playing in the U.S., maybe. But he lost all those years.”

Yes, that’s true. Ichiro would have the best chance if he hadn’t spent the first half of his career playing in Japan. He is 36 and has nearly 3,500 hits between both Japan and the U.S. and needs just 16 more hits this season to break Rose’s record of 10 seasons with at least 200 hits.

Regardless, Ichiro’s nine “lost” seasons in Japan cost him.

However, the way Rose so quickly dismissed the next name was kind of surprising.

“Derek Jeter,” I said.

“No,” said Pete.

“Really? Why not? He gets 200-hits a season and hits at the top of a lineup that needs his to get hits. Ten years worth of 200 hits or close to it is nearly 2,000 hits. That adds up.”

“Yeah, but he’s 35,” Pete said.

Actually, Jeter is 36 now and in the throes of his worst season in the big leagues, batting just .260 with 152 hits in 138 games. Heading into this season, Jeter averaged 208 hits per 162 games. At that rate, he would need to play seven more seasons to end up with nearly 4,200 hits.

Sure, Jeter plays a demanding position, but he will be younger than Rose was when he gets his 3,000^th hit next year. This is all some rudimentary and basic math and it’s probably not likely that Jeter will be pounding out 200 hits when he is 40, especially considering his contract is up at the end of the season. However, maybe Jeter will move to first base or DH a few games a week instead of playing 150-plus at shortstop every year?

Besides, when Rose was 40 he led the National League in hits, and the first four seasons he played first base when he joined the Phillies, Rose got 705 hits. Make that 705 hits in 594 games from the ages 38 to 41. That comes to an average of 193 hits per 162 games.

Not bad for an old guy.

So could Jeter get close to Rose’s record? Perhaps we should save this for 2017 if Jeter is still around. That will give Rose 32 years with the record and 28 years into his banishment from the game. In the meantime, Rose gets a special dispensation on Sept. 11, 2010 to celebrate what he did 25 years before in an actual, major league ballpark. Yes, Major League Baseball will allow Rose into Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati tonight. Whether or not he’ll get another visit remains to be seen, but what is definite is that Rose should be able to last as long as humanly possible.

Rose’s career and his record took durability. So too does his banishment from baseball. He played for 24 years and he’s been banned for 21.

What’s going to give first, the record or the ban?

---

[1] Cobb broke Anson’s record with a four-hit game on Sept. 22, 1923 at Fenway Park while playing for the Tigers. Interestingly, the Tigers were wrapping a stretch where they played 12 games in six days… yes, six straight doubleheaders against the Philadelphia A’s and Red Sox. He had a chance to set the record at Shibe Park in Philadelphia, but got just four hits in six games against the second-division A’s. He fared much better in Boston, going for 11 hits in the first five games and tied the record with a homer in the sixth inning.

Getting to know Pete Rose

There are not very many sports figures in which the public image perfectly matches who the person really is. Most of that is because most public figures — and especially athletes — protect that image as if it’s a newborn. Often press types are told by these people that they really don’t care what anyone thinks about them, but the opposite is the actual reality.

Pete Rose, however, is not one of those guys. Aside from hiding the truth about his gambling on baseball, what you see is what you get from Pete. He’s one of those guys where reading between the lines is totally unnecessary because he’ll tell you exactly what he means. Forget sports figures… that’s rare trait in any person in any walk of life.

Pedro Martinez, John Chaney, Allen Iverson and Charles Barkley are a few of the folks who passed through the city who just didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought about them. If you asked any of them a question, you got a real answer. In fact, once I asked John Chaney something (I forget what it was, but it might have been about Aaron McKie, Eddie Jones, Johnny Miller or Mik Kilgore) and not only did he tell me it was a stupid question, but he told me why it was a stupid question.

Who takes the time to do that? That John Chaney is a real sweetheart when it comes to things like that. No, that was not the sarcasm font.

Anyway, in December of 2008 I spent an afternoon chatting and hanging out with Pete Rose in Las Vegas as he signed autographs and posed for photos with some slack-jawed yokels. Needless to say, it was a blast and that was before Pete broke out the prison stories from when he did time for tax evasion.

A few times I had to pinch myself because the ex-con telling me the stories about his time in the slam was Pete Rose.

“When I was in there it was the only Level 6 [federal prison] in the entire system in the U.S.,” Rose said about his jail term. “I had to work in the main prison. I had to go every day and the people in Marion were in the cage 23 out of 24 hours a day. We were the only camp who didn’t have cable TV, because then every [bleeper] in there would have had to have it in every cell.

“I worked in the welding department. My job was to have the [bleeping] hot chocolate made by 8:15 a.m. every day. That was my [bleeping] job. And every time the warden was coming back [to the welding department] they had me back as far back as I could go because I was a high-profile guy. They’d also say, ‘The old man is on the way back,’ and every time he came back I was in my little kitchen sweeping the floor. He said, ‘Pete, you know something, this is the cleanest damn floor in this entire prison. Because every time I come back there you’re sweeping this damn kitchen.’ I said, ‘Hey, I gotta keep it clean!’

“A couple years ago we we’re selling Pete Rose cookies with a company out of St. Louis. The only place you could get these cookies is in prison. They can’t sell them in a supermarket. A couple years ago I went to North Carolina for a convention of all the commissaries and all the wardens came. That warden came and got my autograph.

“I should have signed the broom for him.”

Beat that one.

This is not a deleted scene from that day in Las Vegas:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZapdwATUqY&w=425&h=344]

We all have our favorite stories that regardless of how much information we’ve accumulated on the topic, we hunger for more. For me some of those subjects are Watergate, the invasion of Normandy, Len Bias, punk rock from Washington, D.C. in the 1980s, and Pete Rose. Sure, there a few others but that’s what comes to mind quickly.

Needless to say I will definitely watch the documentary by a bunch of guys from Cincinnati called, “4,192: The Making of the Hit King.” Interestingly, the film is taking the approach of concentrating solely on Rose’s playing career—a cute little tidbit that has gotten lost in that whole “banned for life” stuff. Other than some blind apologists, not many serious looks at Rose have taken this approach.

According to a story in the Cincinnati Enquirer on the documentary produced by Terry Lukemire and Barking Fish Entertainment, Rose participated with the filmmakers though they did not reveal what or if he was compensated.

“We want to give a new generation a chance to know about Rose,” Lukemire said.

How does one do that about a guy that everyone already knows everything? Easy… by concentrating on the part everyone has chosen to forget. Rose played baseball for 24 years in the Majors, and he is going on his 21st year of banishment. Chances are there is a lot we don’t remember.

Shockingly, Big Mac comes clean

When I sat down in front of my computer and saw various updates from general acquaintances on their Facebook pages, I didn’t quite know how to react. First of all, the news was so head-spinning and mind-blowing that my first reaction was to drop to one knee in attempt to catch my breath.

When I finally pulled myself off the ground a good three hours after hitting the floor, I grabbed my head and squeezed my temples as if I were shopping for the perfectly ripe melon. Like most people, I like to get my hands on the melon and give it a thorough once over because it’s not just the eating of the fruit I’m concerned with—it is the artistry of nature.

Still, my head was not as ripe as a luscious cantaloupe for the news. Why did I have to hear it on Facebook from Trenni Kusnierek instead of a breathless—yet dashingly composed—Brian Williams with a break-in of the regularly scheduled daytime programming?

If that wasn’t bad enough, Trenni continued her taunts from Twitter.

Why? Why now? No one was sworn in, or being extorted. There was no good reason to break that oh-so sacrosanct code of the clubhouse, which is nearly exactly like the oath the guys in the major motion picture, The Hangover, only on… ahem… steroids.

An admission? What in the name of Pete Rose was going on here?

"I wish I had never touched steroids," Mark McGwire revealed in a press release sent out on Monday afternoon. "It was foolish and it was a mistake. I truly apologize. Looking back, I wish I had never played during the steroid era."

McGwire didn’t stop there, either. Oh no, a baseball player admitting to something as mundane as using performance-enhancing substances is like a politician admitting he did something that might be construed as unethical. It just happens from time to time when a ballplayer is hanging around the clubhouse with his teammates and they are all flexing and snapping towels at one another. Ballplayers have an innate competiveness that a guy pushing pencils in a cubicle can’t fathom.

First it’s a flex here, a towel snap there, followed by a round of batting practice where the guys point and giggle at your warning-track power. Then, the next thing you know you’re in a bathroom stall with Jose Canseco with some needles and a dose of winstrol.

That’s how it always starts.

But McGwire didn’t stop with the admission because that wouldn’t be shocking at all despite his riveting testimony in 2006 before the Congressional House Government Reform Committee. That’s where he shakily claimed that he was not there "to talk about the past." Instead, McGwire outlined the past and gave dates and reasons for his drug use.

"I never knew when, but I always knew this day would come," McGwire wrote. "It’s time for me to talk about the past and to confirm what people have suspected. I used steroids during my playing career and I apologize. I remember trying steroids very briefly in the 1989/1990 off season and then after I was injured in 1993, I used steroids again. I used them on occasion throughout the ‘90s, including during the 1998 season."

The 1998 season, of course, was when McGwire and Sammy Sosa had that homerific lovefest as they assaulted all the standing single-season home run records as well as the good will of the believing American public. They duped everyone, especially the baseball writers who just didn’t whiff at the biggest story in their sport for forever, but didn’t even take the bat off their shoulders. Even when there was a dosage of andro wantonly strewn about his locker with the spent wrist bands, soiled batting gloves and muddy spikes, the scribes (and baseball people) attacked the one writer who wiggled away from the fairy tale to look behind the curtain.

So think how confused the old ballwriters are after Monday’s admission. First they go from organizing the national group hug with the brawny slugger to slapping him with metaphors not even a decade later after the showing before Congress. If your brain hurts, what about those poor, misguided writers?

Or better yet, what about Tony La Russa? Not only was La Russa the manager of McGwire’s teams in Oakland and St. Louis and is set to be his boss as the ex-slugger begins a new gig as the Cardinals’ hitting coach, but also the manager has been the big guy’s staunchest defender. La Russa was so far in McGwire’s corner that even when shown evidence to the contrary, the manager refused to believe that his guy would do anything like steroids.

In other words, unless La Russa was in the bathroom stall with Jose and Mark to see that plunger filled with those sweet, muscle-building chemicals injected into the hind parts in question, then it did not happen.

"I have long felt, and still do, there are certain players who need to publicize the legal way to get strong," La Russa told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in March of 2006. "That’s my biggest complaint. When those players have been asked, they’ve been very defensive or they’ve come out and said ‘Whatever.’ Somebody should explain that you can get big and strong in a legal way. If you’re willing to work hard and be smart about what you ingest, it can be done in a legal way."

Nothing has dissuaded La Russa from believing McGwire was clean.

"That’s the basis of why I felt so strongly about Mark. I saw him do that for years and years and years. That’s why I believe it. I don’t have anything else to add. Nothing has happened since he made that statement to change my mind."

What a plot twist! What must La Russa be thinking now? If you see a dark-haired older gentleman on the deck squeezing his head as if shopping for a cantaloupe, you know why.

Halladay the latest to join greatest era in Philly sports history

Sometimes it’s easy to get excited about the littlest things. Maybe it’s a new episode of a TV show, or a favorite meal. Or it could be a small gift or a short trip to a favorite place.

You know what they say—sometimes it’s the small things that matter the most.

So when the team you’ve written about for the past 10 years gets the game’s best pitcher who just so happened to be the most-coveted player on the trade/free-agent market, it should be pretty exciting…

Right?

Yawn.

Sitting there and listening as Roy Halladay was being introduced to us media types during Wednesday’s press conference in Citizens Bank Park, a different feel pervaded. Usually, during such settings it’s not very difficult to get swept up in the emotion. After all, teams usually trot in family members, agents, front-office types and other hangers-on. In rare cases, like Wednesday’s Halladay presser for example, the national cable TV outlets turned out to aim cameras at the proceedings.

But when a team introduces its third former Cy Young Award winner since July after trading one away, there’s a tendency to become a little used to big events like introductory press conferences. Think about it—this year the Phillies have added Pedro Martinez, Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay. That’s five Cy Young Awards right there.

At the same time, Ryan Howard, Cole Hamels, Charlie Manuel, Jayson Werth and Ruben Amaro Jr. all got new contracts since the Phillies won the World Series. Not to mention, the team signed Placido Polanco, Brad Lidge, Raul Ibanez and, of course, had that little parade down Broad Street.

In other words, you can see why it was easy not to get too worked up over Halladay’s arrival. That’s doubly the case considering the Flyers fired a coach and the Sixers welcomed back Allen Iverson within the past two weeks. Add in the facts that the deal for Halladay took three days to come together after Amaro spent the week in Indianapolis denying involvement of anything and it’s easy to get a little jaded.

Wait… is Ruben denying he was even in Indianapolis now?

Of course with success comes boredom. In fact, a wise man once told me that championships were boring and bad for business. Perhaps he is correct, because while people are excited about the recent developments with the Phillies, they also are expected now. It’s not quite complacency, but during the past decade every Philadelphia team has been in the mix to acquire the top players on the market. Sure, we’re still getting used to all of this largesse and therefore go a little wild for guys like Halladay, but really…

Been there, done that.

That brings us to the grand point—this is the greatest time ever to be a Philadelphia sports fan. Ever. Since 2001, every team but the Flyers have been to the championship round of the playoffs and every team has made gigantic, stop-the-sports-world acquisitions.

Just look at the list of names:

Roy Halladay
Pedro
Cliff Lee
Jim Thome
Larry Bowa
Jeremy Roenick
Chris Pronger
Peter Forsberg
Chris Webber
Elton Brand
Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo
Terrell Owens
Asante Samuel
Jevon Kearse
Michael Vick

If the team wants them, they are pretty darned good at getting them.

Certainly that wasn’t always the case. A friend’s dad often tells the story about how he and his friends were amazed that a Philadelphia team could get a player like Julius Erving, and I remember watching on TV when Pete Rose signed his four-year, $3.2 million deal with the Phillies. The fact that the Pete Rose signing was on live TV proves how big it was because, a.) there weren’t a whole lot of channels on the dial back then. Just 12 and none of them offered all sports programming. Cable? What?

And, b.) I didn’t even live in the Philadelphia region when Rose signed. Hell, I didn’t even live in Pennsylvania.

Oh, there were other big deals, too. Like when the Sixers traded Caldwell Jones to get Moses Malone, for instance. But they were few and far between. For every Moses, there was always a Lance Parrish lurking at the podium ready to take questions about how he will deliver the championship.

As far as those big moves go, the mid-season trade for Dikembe Mutombo was the first major move for us at the CSNPhilly.com site. We had three people on the staff back then and the trade came down on a snowy February afternoon that kept us cooped up in our little corner of the second floor in the Wachovia Center. Better yet for the Sixers, the deal for Mutombo was one of the few that worked out as designed. Mutombo gave the team the defense and presence in the middle it lacked and made it to the NBA Finals.

With Shaq and Kobe in mid dynasty, a trip to the finals for a team like the Sixers was as good as winning it all.

Jim Thome’s arrival was bigger yet. Not only was Thome the biggest name on the free-agent market, but also he was a symbol that there were big changes coming. Of course the unforgettable moment of Thome’s first visit to Philly was when he popped out of his limo to sign autographs and pose for pictures with the union guys from I.B.E.W. who held an impromptu rally outside the ballpark to try and sway the slugger to sign with the Phillies.

Moreover, Thome’s introductory press conference was memorable because the big fella was reduced to tears when talking about the switch from the Indians. It was a scene that hadn’t been repeated in these parts until Allen Iverson got a bit weepy when talking about his return to Philadelphia.

Oh yes, Philadelphia will make a guy cry.

Or maybe even do a bunch of sit-ups in the front yard.

Maybe in a different era, the acquisition of Roy Halladay would be a bigger deal. Maybe when the contract plays itself out—potentially five years and $100 million—we’ll view it differently. Until then he’s just another big name in a veritable cavalcade of superstars that seem to wind up in our town.

Visiting with Pete Rose in Las Vegas

LAS VEGAS – Needless to say, there is a lot of baseball talk at the Winter Meetings. It's never ending, actually. Banter over the latest free agents, trades, the economy of the game is the reason why everyone showed up at The Bellagio in the first place.

Yet despite all of the talk and rumor-mongering no one at The Bellagio took the time to bolt out of the resort

and out into the sun-soaked Thursday afternoon in the dry December desert air to Caesar's Palace. Seperated by just mere steps, the baseball Winter Meetings were so close to a lonely figure who knew a thing or two about the game.

At the same time he may as well have been on the other side of the moon.

But this was where he was hiding in plain sight, sitting behind a long, narrow table with a pile of Sharpie pens of various sizes while fiddling with the Bluetooth ear piece for his iPhone. He looked much older sitting there with an assistant behind the table and red ropes that cordoned his area away from the rest of the room.

Wearing a weathered leather ball cap with white leather ankle boots, a Nike dri-fit top, all accessorized by a large gold watch and gold bracelet, baseball's all-time hits leader sat so close yet so far awy from the epicenter of the game he loved so much. His face was weathered by sun and late nights, but not as old as his years. The extra weight he carried was striking to anyone who saw him three decades ago, but then again, that’s life.

We should all be so lucky as to get old.

So Pete, is it OK if we talk some baseball?

“Sure,” he said. “Come on over and sit down.”

Finally, some baseball talk with a guy who still loves the game as much now than he ever did. Here was a guy who knew a little about it, too. Judging by the photos of other folks displayed behind the table that also made the pilgrimage to see the man (Roger Clemens, Li’l Jon, Paris Hilton, Ice-T, etc., etc.) it appeared as if I came to the right place.

Charlie Hustle

“I watch more baseball than anyone I know,” said Pete Rose, without a trace of self-doubt. “I live out west so the East Coast games are on at 4:30. The midwest games come on by 5 and then the West Coast games are on at 7:30.”

He also pointed out that he had a television set up on the table so he could watch games at work in the sports memorabilia shop called, “Field of Dreams” in the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace. So yeah, not only did he watch a lot of baseball and talk a lot about baseball, but he also capitalized off it by signing his name to baseballs, shirts, bats, photos or whatever else fans requested. After the signing, where Rose usually personalized the item before writing his name, the phrase “Hit King” and “4,256,” he invited the fan to the other side of the red ropes to sit for a picture and some peppery banter.

Sorry, he signs “Charlie Hustle” only on Cincinnati Reds jerseys.

After being told that a man requesting a signature and photo was named Lester, Rose said, “Lester? Lester the Molester?” Then he turned to the man’s wife and said, “She’ll never tell.”

Needless to say, the couple and Rose had grins ear-to-ear for the camera phone photo.

With the ropes and the table, it was almost as if customers showed up at the zoo and were allowed to hop in the cage.

So between autographs, photo sessions, the occasional handshake and call on the iPhone, we sat there talking about baseball. More specifically, we sat there on the other side of the ropes and talked about the Phillies. Along the way various other tangential topics arose from the serious – such as his suspension from baseball, steroids, his prison term for income tax evasion and the global economic crisis and how it relates to baseball – to the absurd – such as how no one in prison admitted guilt (“When I was in there there were 245 guys in there, but I was the only one who was guilty. They all told me their bleeping story, but I was the only one who was guilty.”) and his job as a prisoner at the United States Penitentiary in Marion, Ill.

Talk about traveling all over the map – we redrew the borders. And yes, the irony about talking to Pete Rose in a shop at Caesars Palace was not lost.

“When I was in there it was the only Level 6 [federal prison] in the entire system in the U.S.,” Rose said about his jail term. “I had to work in the main prison. I had to go every day and the people in Marion were in the cage 23 out of 24 hours a day. We were the only camp who didn’t have cable TV, because then every bleeper in there would have had to have it in every cell.

“I worked in the welding department. My job was to have the bleeping hot chocolate made by 8:15 a.m. every day. That was my bleeping job. And every time the warden was coming back [to the welding department] they had me back as far back as I could go. Because I was a high-profile guy. They’d also say, ‘The old man is on the way back,’ and every time he came back I was in my little kitchen sweeping the floor. He said, ‘Pete, you know something, this is the cleanest damn floor in this entire prison. Because every time I come back there you’re sweeping this damn kitchen.’ I said, ‘Hey, I gotta keep it clean!’

“A couple years ago we we’re selling Pete Rose cookies with a company out of St. Louis. The only place you could get these cookies is in prison. They can’t sell them in a supermarket. A couple years ago I went to North Carolina for a convention of all the commissaries and all the wardens came. That warden came and got my autograph.

“I should have signed the broom for him.”

“Better yet,” I added. “You could have signed it from the ‘Sweep King.’”

Yeah, it was a bona fide chuckle fest.

But the intent was to talk only baseball. That’s it.

Look, by now everyone has heard Rose’s story and has formulated an opinion. There are no more surprises, spins, stories or theories. Pete Rose bet on baseball. As we sat there in Caesars Palace, he looked straight into my eyes and told me that he bet on his team every night.

“That’s how much confidence I had in my team,” he said.

I certainly didn’t show up in Las Vegas to get an admission from Pete Rose. Nor did I show up to kick dirt on the biggest pariah in the history of professional sports or listen to him state his case. Everyone gets it by now, and even though I told Rose I believed his suspension was proper, it does seem odd to note that if he had committed murder he might have served his sentence by now.

“I just want a second chance,” he said, sticking to his mantra. “I’ve been suspended for 19 years already.”

“And how long did you play?”

“Twenty-four years.”

We just let that hang there for a moment.

Talking baseball

But the point was baseball, and since Rose says he watches religiously, the topic turned to the Phillies and manager Charlie Manuel, who was rewarded with a contract extension that will carry him through the 2011 season. After a rocky start as manager of the Phillies, even Rose was impressed with how far Manuel had come to win over the fans.

“I can see how they didn’t like him in Philadelphia at first,” Rose said. “He made some moves that no one understood but him. But give him credit. His team likes him and they play for him. That’s the hardest thing to do. Look, I managed and I know that a team takes the personality of the manager. He keeps them relaxed so they can play. He takes all on the media and the fans and lets them do their jobs."

Managing is tough, Rose said, so he has an appreciation for Rose was able to accomplish.

“As a manager you have to have one set of rules for all 25 guys,” he said. “But you have to treat each guy individually. When I was managing and I said we have batting practice at 5, you better be there at 4:30.”

Charlie had a few issues with tardiness from shortstop Jimmy Rollins.

“I don’t get that. Rollins is a great player,” Rose said. “He must not like the game.”

Told Rollins is an astute student of the game and its history, particularly the Negro Leagues, Rose had a quick reply.

“I guess he doesn’t want to be in the clubhouse.”

Rose admitted he didn’t know so much about the modern-day big league clubhouses, since his ban from the game prohibits him from so much as attending a game without purchasing a ticket. In fact, he expressed surprise when a friend with the Astros organization told him the team employs a chef for the clubhouse. He also couldn’t get over how far technology had become entwined in the modern game.

“I got 4,256 hits and I never hit a ball off a tee and I never watched myself hit on video,” he said. “Neither did Babe Ruth or Hank Aaron.”

But Chase Utley does. Tirelessly. Rose likes Utley and allowed himself a little laugh when told about Utley’s speech at Citizens Bank Park following the World Series victory parade. Rose appreciates how Utley played much of the 2008 season through a hip injury that was worse than he let on, though the Hit King noted the price.

“He’s paying now if he’s out through May," he said. "But I guess he got his ring so it’s OK.”

But Rose does not understand Utley’s reluctance to open up to the media about himself or baseball. Different personalities, perhaps. Rose was an open book and revealed all even when he was keeping a secret about his gambling on baseball. One of the secrets to the success of those juggernaut Phillies teams in Rose’s day was that he was the one who stood up and took on the media. With sensitive personalities like Steve Carlton and Mike Schmidt on the club, Rose was the go-to guy for a quote or some insight. By doing that, he took the pressure off the team’s best players.

Rose simply did not understand why Utley refused to talk to the media during his 35-game hitting streak during the 2006 season. Not talking about baseball is just a foreign concept to him. Worse, he says, fans – particularly kids – don’t get a chance to know their heroes without some type of media insight.

“Kids might want to know more about baseball and they will listen to what a guy like Chase Utley has to say,” Rose said. “But when he’s up there all he says is, ‘Yep.’”

Rose always has time for the fans, it appeared. He was genuine, easy going, friendly, a kidder and bawdy. He sang a few bars of “Oh Canada,” to a couple from Saskatchewan, asked a man in a cowboy hat if he was in town for the rodeo and talked about boxer Manny Pacquiao with a woman from the Philippines.

When told that he was good at interacting with people, Rose agreed.

“Yes, I am,” he said.

Alone with the fans

Still, there was a sense of sadness in the room. A burden of sorts. All Rose wanted to do was be a part of baseball again. Just next door from where Rose sat, his old friends gathered to compare notes and get to know each other away from the diamond. Joe Morgan was there. So was Rose’s former pupil Eric Davis. It wasn’t uncommon to see Lou Piniella and Tony LaRussa chatting in a hallway or scouts and agents lined up at the craps tables.

But Rose was left alone with his Sharpies and the curiosity seekers behind the red rope and long, narrow table.

Sad. Not sadness in a condescending way, but in truest sense of the word. Sad because a man who had accomplished so much was now reduced to shaking hands and signing his name while his old friends got to be on the inside of the game that defined him for all of his life.

“I don't mind working,” said Rose, noting that he drove from his home in Los Angeles to Las Vegas 15 times a month to work at Field of Dreams. He also seems to genuinely enjoy interacting with baseball fans. It is the fans, after all, that keep him tethered to the game.

“Baseball needs the fans,” he said. “Without the fans, what’s the point?”

When asked if he saw any of his old teammates or friends from baseball this week, Rose said one person made it over.

“Dave Raymond,” he said. “Do you know who he was?”

The original Phillie Phanatic.

Rose likes his life, he said. He goes to all the big fights in town, he watches baseball and he gets to meet new people every day. He gets to talk about the game, though. He’s also hoping to open up a steakhouse in Vegas, soon. Maybe, just maybe, baseball will allow him to formally ask for a second chance.

That’s not too bad.

At quitting time, Rose stacked the pens, bundled them and put them away. The assistants who snap pictures for the fans and give the memorabilia to sign slipped out of their Cincinnati Reds’ shirts and tidied up. Rose got up, gathered his things in a small bag and walked with me to the door.

We shook hands and I thanked him for his time and the stories. Especially the stories.

“Just quote me accurately,” he said.

Then he turned and walked down the ornately decorated shopping mall toward his car for the drive back to Los Angeles.

No longer in the shadow

Just yesterday I picked up a copy of Game of Shadows, the expose by investigative reporters Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams on Barry Bonds, BALCO and the unseemly side of baseball. Though the book is incredibly researched and full of the minutest detail, my fear is that Game of Shadows only scratches the surface. Beneath lurks, perhaps, depths of ugliness, greed and cheating that is sure to be unfathomable.

I’m afraid (and I’m just basing this on hunches) the underbelly of baseball is like a Tom Clancy or Robert Ludlum pulp novel. Coincidentally, Clancy owns a stake in the Baltimore Orioles. Go figure.

But in rifling through the opening chapters yesterday, I couldn’t help but think about baseball’s last major scandal, which just yesterday took a new fork in its ever-winding twists and turns in a plot that would be perfect fodder for a bad made-for-TV movie. In comparison to the steroids and HGH revelations that could knock out the punch-drunk fans, the Pete Rose scandal seems quaint. With that dirty scandal there was simply cheating, a bad cover-up and a few jail sentences that resulted in Rose essentially admitting that the investigation headed by John Dowd was correct.

Well, the investigation was sort of correct. Dowd, the civil and criminal litigator who not only is a Washington insider, but also served as Special Counsel to the Commissioner of Baseball in the investigations of Rose, George Steinbrenner, Don Zimmer and Lenny Dykstra, seems to have undershot with Rose. According to the Dowd Report, Rose bet on baseball regularly – including the Reds, the team he managed – which is a direct violation of baseball’s “Golden Rule.” But according to Rose, as revealed on ESPN radio with hosts Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann, Dowd got it wrong. Rose just didn’t bet on his Reds regularly, he bet on the Reds all the time.

“I bet on my team every night. I didn't bet on my team four nights a week," Rose said during the interview with Patrick and Olbermann. “I bet on my team to win every night because I love my team, I believe in my team. I did everything in my power every night to win that game.”

That certainly is a lot different than reportedly admitting that you thought the steroid you were rubbing on your legs was flax seed oil. Who would have guessed that it was “The Cream” or “The Clear?”

Nevertheless, Pete Rose is approaching his 18th year of banishment from baseball. He also will turn 66 in a few weeks so it goes without saying that time is getting short for the so-called “Hit King” to lobby for his reinstatement to the game he says he loves so much yet still decided to treat like it owed him something. Now I don’t doubt that Rose is contrite in his repeated mea culpas, including the one that was released as a book from publisher Rodale. And I’m not going to debate whether or not Rose is sincere in apologizing for staining his game.

However, it’s so transparent that Rose wants something from baseball.

Again.

Whether or not he has properly paid for his crime and made his penance is not really for me to say, though if anyone would have asked me a few years ago I would have said that the lifetime ban was sufficient. I will say, though, that I don’t know if Rose realizes that baseball owes him nothing. Nada. Zilch. Baseball doesn’t need Pete Rose, despite what he says. In fact, baseball never needed Pete Rose. Like any art form, baseball will always exist. There will always be games whether they are in some small park in any corner of the country or at Yankee Stadium. There could be two people watching or 70,000 – it doesn’t matter. The game doesn’t exist in a vacuum and no one owns it despite what Major League Baseball leads people to believe.

To play or watch the game is a reward within itself and those who give it the proper respect and treat it with humility get to have it for life. Someone like John Vukovich got that. It doesn’t seem as if Rose ever will.

Pete Rose, it seems, had the world in the palm of his hand and spit in its face.

Worse, as Game of Shadows indicates, he wasn’t the only one.

More: Pete Rose on ESPN Radio with Olbermann and Patrick

More: The Dowd Report

More: In defense of Pete Rose

More: Pete Rose book tour hits Philadelphia (2004)

Pete Rose book tour hits Philadelphia

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Pete Rose was not in unknown environs. In fact, Rose has spent the better part of the past decade in similar situations. The line 'em up and sign drill that has become the main source of income for many former athletes who missed out on sports' big money has become as ubiquitous as the jocks themselves.

	Pete Rose signs a book for a young reader at the Barnes & Noble near Rittenhouse Square on Friday. Rose, who won a World Series title with the Phillies in 1980, was in town to promote his book, which is currently No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list for non-fiction. (AP)

So there was Pete Rose on Friday afternoon, signing away with his cache of black sharpies at his side. This time, however, old Charlie Hustle wasn't doing a sign-for-pay gig that has sustained him since his banishment from baseball. No, this time, the Hustler was in a Barnes & Noble across the street from Rittenhouse Square, where he added his signature to copies of his latest "As told to" epic called, cleverly, Pete Rose: My Prison Without Bars.

And once again, Pete Rose's presence had nothing to do with baseball.

Dressed casually in a Cincinnati Reds colored Nike dri-fit top, blue sweat pants, gaudy Nike cross-trainers all accessorized by a large gold watch, Rose signed his latest book, and his latest book only on Friday. Patrons who braved the sub-zero wind chills to spend the $18.69 (30 percent discount included) got to spend 25 minutes in line to be shepherded out of the signing area and into the fiction section of the store after Rose scrawled his distinctive autograph on the book. Oh sure, occasionally there would be an acknowledgment, a "thank you for coming," and some sports-related chitchat.

Though his book admits a penchant for gambling on football, no one asked Rose which way he was leaning for next week's Super Bowl. No one asked him what he thought of the revamped Phillies chances in 2004, either, but Rose offered takes on the Eagles ("Three years in a row... ") and his hometown Bengals' future with top draft pick Carson Palmer ("They gave the kid a $12 million bonus and he didn't take one snap... ").

But that's about all Rose had to say on Friday. Between chastising autograph seekers for asking for multiple signatures on the five or six books they had purchased, including one elderly woman who was sent on her way with a, "you're cute. Now get outta here," or for asking for a personalized signature ("Everyone has a son or daughter they want to give this to."), Rose was an efficient signer. Occasionally, he would stop so that he could get a quick swig from a beverage provided by the store's cappuccino bar, but rarely did Rose look away from the task at hand.

Just like during his playing days, Rose was all business. Which, sadly, is what Friday's signing was all about.

Sure, no one can begrudge Rose for writing a book to make some money. After all, he never masked its release as an unspoken desire to contribute to the culture's literary history. However, there seemed to be an element that Rose was going to have his lifetime banishment from baseball lifted if he admitted to gambling on the game while a manager for the Reds during the late 1980s. But Rose's concessions appear to have stalled his reinstatement, and the focus is less about returning to the game he claims he "owes" and more on the bottom line.

Perhaps that is why Rose has refused to meet with the media at any of the stops on his book tour. Reportedly, baseball's all-time hit leader received payment for his tell-all interviews on ABC's Prime Time and Good Morning America. If he has nothing to gain — at least monetarily — from talking to the press, why should he?

Nevertheless, Rick Hill, as in "as told to... " chatted away with the media while his muse signed away. Leaning againsta shelf holding books by William Shakespeare when he spoke, Hill related stories about his relationship with Rose. For instance, it took Rose six months into the writing process to admit to Hill that he bet on baseball, and that he says Rose's addiction to gambling is no different than any other type of addiction. Most of all, he believes Rose is a pretty decent star to pin his literary hopes on.

"Pete Rose's life is a Greek tragedy. He reached a god-like status in his profession, and had a tragic fall from grace. When you're writing that story, you don't want the hero to fall and you want to relish that. You can't stomp him down so low that you can't bring him back up," Hill said. "We cut 100 pages out of the book, which were elements that we dealt with things that are coming out in the press right now. They were cut because they were redundant. You can do 12 chapters on gambling. This is a full story of a life."

Reading the book — bias toward Rose aside — leaves one with a story of a man cloaked in sadness. There was a sad, yet loving relationship with his father, and his own family. There was the sadness of a man wallowing in the abyss of addiction, his inability to come to terms with it and his public revelations.

Sad. Not sadness in a condescending way, but in truest sense of the word. Sad because a man who had accomplished so much was now reduced to schlepping a book that is a diary of his failure.

"He feels liberated," Hill said. "The 63-year-old Pete Rose doesn't have the same cravings that the 50-year-old or 40-year-old Pete Rose had. He's slowing down. He's getting older."

He's getting richer, too. In just two hours on Friday, the Barnes & Noble sold approximately 800 copies of Rose's tome. Nationwide, the interest has been just as high as it is in Philadelphia. In fact, one observer noted that Rose's book signings rival only Howard Stern in generating a buzz and long lines that snake through the stacks. And unlike a fiction writer or literary lion, Rose doesn't give readings. Perhaps this is both a blessing and a curse.

Regardless, the sentiment from those waiting on line seems to be uniform. Though Rose bet on baseball, and the public just shelled out nearly 17 bucks to get their copy of the book signed, he should be admitted to the baseball Hall of Fame.

As far as full reinstatement that would allow Rose to don a uniform and manage a club, well...

"Put him in the Hall of Fame for what he did as a player, but don't let him back on the field," said Mike Capaldo, from Bucks County, as well as many others exiting with their signed copies.

Though the book is out and selling well, the final chapter on Pete Rose has yet to be written. Seemingly at a crossroads, the plot has several ways it can go. Will Rose ever show the contrition some are clamoring for that will lead to his reinstatement, or will Rose need another product to keep him in the public eye and keep the cash rolling in?

Which way will the story go?

"I think it will be happy ending," Hill said, though he couldn't speculate how.

Either way, tomorrow brings a new city and more books to sign.

E-mail John R. Finger