This story about the corked Pete Rose bats has broken recently, and I just don't know what to think about this guy anymore. Sheesh, I totally believed Pete for all those years he denied having gambled on baseball while he was managing the Reds. I loved him for his hustle (certainly not for his looks); he was scrappy, he was entertaining, and he was a colorful part of one of the best baseball teams of all times, so I always thought he deserved the benefit of the doubt and a place in the Hall of Fame.
Then he comes out and admits the whole gambling thing in a crummy, gossip-mongering tell-all book (guess he needed some cash). I was pretty much over him after that, but then the steroid scandal happened and I began to reconsider: yes, gambling on your team is scummy, for sure, but it's not nearly as bad as doping yourself into a Jolly Green Giant physique (Hello, Roid-ger Clements, Sammy Sosa, Mark Macguire, et al). And besides, I rationalized, he never did anything but try like hell to win, so it's not like he was betting against his own team and then taking a dive.
But now this. Jeeze, Peter, just when I was coming back around, too. Keep the bum out, I say. Just another reason to love Johnny Bench even more, I guess.
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