Pete

Pete wanted to disprove the maxim about the relative quality of the cars driven by home run hitters and hits makers sans great power such as he.

Yet today, I, trying not to be bitter about the fact Manfred, Selig and many “judge and jury” types denied Mr. Rose his rightful place in baseball’s not so/no longer great “Hall,” while alive –I with notable exceptions, such as with the previous heartfelt sentence, will try to get a hit that Pete would have or will like, as opposed to “hitting it out,” a herculean task for any and certainly me.

Let’s go the other way and increase our chances, as I will link Pete with other greats and the classy, virtually, untarnished Stan “The Man” Musial, is a good place to start.

I said place and perhaps it is that area, wherever it might be,– then ’twas between Pete Rose and first base, where Stan hit a ball that went for his 3,630 th and last hit (1,815 at home where that last one was recorded, (old Busch Stadium or Sportsman Park) and that many on the road.

Eighteen years passed (chai and happy Jewish New Year and let’s hope for better) and not long after the ’81 season player’s strike ended, Pete, with Stan in attendance and then in his third year with the Philadelphia Phillies (Pete was an integral part of the Phils’ first ever title team the season before) after 16 with his hometown Cincinnati Reds, singled to left, going the other way, to notch hit #3,631 followed by congrats from the always so classy, Mr. Musial.

Pete Rose marveled at how great the National League of those times was and was not afraid to correctly profess its clear superiority to the American League (doing so without failing to cite such A.L. greats as Al Kaline and Carl Yastrzemski), and putting forth that the biggest reason for that N.L. edge was speed and that was to a great extent due, to the N.L. being first and more prolific (by a pretty wide margin) in having Black and Latin players.

On that “front,” really, while better, it is still a veritable “fault-line,” Pete, in a baseball/not so hot practice, was ignored by most of the Cincy team’s white players, as they feared his inevitable takeover of Don Blasingame’s second base job. (Similarly the great, vaunted Yankees did same to Phil Rizzuto, who similarly and in what was inevitable, took Frank Crosetti’s shortstop position with Joe DiMaggio intervening and putting an end to Phil’s batting practice swings being blocked).

Pete was befriended by some black players, greats named Frank Robinson and Vada Pinson to name two, and was/is so proud that his later day, “Big Red Machine teams,” certainly among baseball’s best ever, have a white (John Bench), black (the late Joe Morgan), Latin (Tony Perez– the “jokers” who vote took so damned long to get RBI machine, “Doggy” (Perez) in ) player in that same Hall, from which Pete was so cruelly denied entry. Additionally their manager George “Sparky” Anderson made the not so hot “it.”

Pete’s accomplishments (10, 200 hits seasons, the most hits and most important, certainly to Rose, having played in the most winning games) on the field are numerous and go look.

His “Charley Hustle” (the name was given to him by Yankees’ greats, Ed “Whitey” Ford and Mickey Mantle when Pete’s hustle gave Cincy an otherwise meaningless and certainly forgotten, exhibition game win vs the Yankees) and at times rough? play are also well documented.

I add the just as telling, if not more so, Pete moving from left field to third base, enabling George Foster who was a “Famer” type for a few seasons, once inserted into Cincy’s great lineup, with the Reds winning 40 or 41 of 50, beating out a good L.A. team (then my team, by 20 or so games after that move in ’75), and eventually winning a first title in 35 seasons, denying an excellent Red Sox team, in a classic 7 game W.S.– that essentially saved and minimum, resussitated baseball. 

Often, I write that I will have more. Maybe and surely I have in the past, certainly regarding many things Pete Rose.

A need to close this and I impart having seen Pete in person twice, the first time near Cooperstown, where his “James Fenimore” (read that and please do read– writing, was signing autographs and he asked a group of us walking by, who is the only player to pinch hit for me. I said Mike Lum and Pete’s priceless pronunciation, stretching out Lummmm remains a priceless memory.

My most precious and telling interaction with him involves a conversation, I at 20, in college and haunted by among else, teams failures to “title” (only one can) and thrown out memories, had with Pete, on a rainy Wednesday in May 1976.

Among other things, including my disputing Pete saying his game 7/’75  W.S. game tying hit off Ro Moret was not his biggest to that point in his career, I also said you sound a bit tired, even down.

No, Peter Edward Rose, already so polite and understanding to polite, but with a little “edge” me and also did he really need this conversation, said “just drifting.”

Now though I had correctly stated he was a member of a great ball club, after Pete himself had said “we have a good ballclub,” I, with “my” Dodgers having won say 8 straight games and playing at Wrigley Field that afternoon, asked are you sure you are not checking for el Dodgers score.

“It is too early for that.” was Pete’s classy answer.

Pete and the Reds beat out, a, what again, was a good L.A. team by say 10 games, then went (7-0) in post-season, the best such and repeated as World champions, the best team I ever saw. (I was a bit too young to see the awesome 1961 Yankees). 

Speaking of early (I do not mean Wynn, who in Pete’s first year, 1963, finally notched his 300th win) death came too early to Pete and if you recall, in eery fashion, my last post before and the day before he died, dreamt Manfred would redeem, and just put Pete in. Again eery!!

You know what, maybe you Peter Edward Rose will meet the few others, one being Willie Mays (#24 also died in this year 2024, and your pride in playing with and having an All-Star game locker next to such as Willie, Henry Aaron and Roberto Clemente, the latter whom you more than once “battled” for batting titles, is well documented), and two others, Babe Ruth (you kvelled, look it up Pete) that you met his daughter and Ty Cobb, (you played Ty in a movie about the Babe, played by Stephen Lang) might greet you and welcome you to that pantheon of the greatest of the great, and be damned the earth’s baseball, so called shrine, which does not come close.

Bottom and closing line is Pete did not and does not need “Hall” entry and now maybe I can realize and maybe push away bitterness, even that aimed at “those,” and realize I do not need it either.

I saw Pete play and envy not so much his ability or even his accomplishments, but his incredible, “not to be denied,” determination and hope to go on citing notes, betting small (unlike Pete, who was not a good sports handicapper, I can “beat it” and I do not mean, (think what Caan’s Sonny said re Pacino’s “Michael” if there was no planted weapon) and enjoying time, grateful for a past that saw Pete Rose play a great game, the correct way, caring about those of us, who plucked down money and far more important, TIME!! 

Left to right, Pete Rose and Stan “The Man” Musial.

First you hear Bob Uecker then Al Michaels. I wanted to put up Pete’s hit off Mr. Moret to keep the discussion going, but this one is nice and along with Mr. Musial, Pete is congratulated by then Cardinals’ first sacker, Keith Hernandez, who twice delivered as much as tying hits, roughly around the same 6th or 7th inning as Pete’s in ’75, in THE GAME #7 of a W.S.