Rose is gone, but the debates will continue

On a warm August night at Cleveland's Municipal Stadium in 1981, the Phillies' Pete Rose stepped up to the plate, ready to leadoff an All-Star Game.This was not a good time for baseball. About two months earlier, major league players had gone on strike, and for most of the summer, there was no big league baseball.Now, a settlement reached, the players – and the sport – returned for the Mid-Summer Classic. More than 70,000 fans were in attendance, but those fans were testy.During the introductions, the players – especially National League players, since Cleveland is an American League City – were booed.Some even suggested that Baseball was on trial that night, and the fans in attendance were the judges and jury.This is what Pete Rose was stepping into.By 1981, Rose had already attained a Hall-of-Fame-worthy career. At 41-years old, he'd already attained three world championships (two with his hometown Cincinnati Reds) six National League Pennants and reached a major individual milestone: 3,000 career hits.He also was chasing down Stan Musial's National League hit record, which he broke later that season.But Rose was more than that. He was the guy who ran hard to first base on a walk, the guy who plowed into catchers in exhibition games. He was a pitchman, a star. He played the game "the right way," and was compensated in money and adulation.So much so that NBC announcer Tony Kubek – a former big league shortstop who like Rose was once named Rookie of the Year– delivered a line to mark the moment."If baseball is on trial," he asked, "could there be a better character witness to lead it off? This guy, Pete Rose?"Pete Rose, Major League Baseball's all-time hits leader, died Monday.The Cincinnati-born "Charlie Hustle" (as derisively nicknamed by Hall of Famers Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford after a spring training game) played in more games than anyone else, took more at-bats than anyone else, and yes, he had more hits.Four-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-six of them.But for all of the achievements Rose has, it's the one he never achieved – induction into baseball's Hall of Fame – that stands out.Rose bet on baseball games while manager of the Reds. It's likely he also placed wagers on baseball games while still an active player.For this, Rose accepted a lifetime ban from the sport in 1989. Two years later, he was ruled ineligible for induction into baseball's Hall.His name has never appeared on a Hall of Fame ballot.Personally, I have come to find the Hall of Fame debate over Rose kind of pointless. If you go to Cooperstown, you will see as much Rose memorabilia as you will for any other player. Perhaps more.There is no doubt, based on his accomplishments on the field, that he would have been elected on the first ballot.And yet, there is no plaque for Rose, there was no induction.Although in some ways, being kept out of the Hall probably helped the man endure.There are 274 players that have been inducted into the Hall of Fame. Ask a random person on the street how many they can name.Ten, perhaps 20?But I'll bet you (forgive me) that they know Pete Rose.My belief, having read a few books and countless articles on Rose, is that being in the Hall of Fame didn't matter to him as much as being banned from the game.For the final 35 years of his life, he couldn't coach, couldn't work with players, and couldn't get into a ballpark without buying a ticket.That was, of course, Pete Rose's fault. He bet on baseball, which players and managers aren't allowed to do. There are signs – clearly marked – in the every MLB clubhouse warning against it.Rose even bet on games that – as Reds' manager – his team played in.It matters little that he always bet on the Reds to win. As it has been said, when he didn't bet on the Reds, he bet against them.And if Rose managed games differently when he bet on them, well, that's almost 1919 Black Sox level bad.Character witness for the game, indeed.And yet.Turn on a sporting event today, and you'll be bombarded with commercials for sports betting services. It's easy as pie, they say. Get $200 free after one wager.Rose had to call a bookie. People today – and ostensibly, players -- can place a bet without doing anything more than checking their phone.Baseball doesn't seem to have an issue with it. There are gambling sponsorships all over ballparks. Heck, in a few years, an MLB team, the Athletics, will move to Las Vegas, the gambling capital of the world.Then, there are other considerations. Players who are suspected and confirmed to have used steroids are on the Hall of Fame ballot every year.It's my belief that steroid users harmed the game more than Rose ever could. Forget, for a moment, the suspect statistical records now in place.How many games were decided by someone who was using performance enhancing drugs? How many pennants were decided by those players?Most of the players tied to the steroid era have not been inducted to Cooperstown. There's no plaque for Barry Bonds or Roger Clemens.There are players who have been inducted who I have questions about. No proof, but questions.But the point is, those players are on the ballot.Pete Rose is not.Rose was – and I think he would have admitted this – no role model. Some of the allegations about his off-the-field behavior are horrifying, so much so that it's hard for me to get worked up in any kind of defense of the player or the man.But the Hall of Fame is not – and has never been – about character.Rose's death did close a door, however.Had Rose been inducted into the Hall, it would have been the biggest, and most talked about induction of all time.But now, if it occurs, it will be without the man of the hour, the main attraction.In order for that induction to mean something, Pete Rose needed to be there.Now, that can't be.If he gets inducted now, dead, when he could have been inducted for 33 years when he was living, well, that's no honor.That's an insult.Rose is gone now, but I suspect the debates will rage on without him. Debates about The Hall. Debates about his eligibility and overall legacy.Forty-three years ago in Cleveland, none of that was in question. Rose stepped up to the plate, unaware of what was awaiting him and awaiting the game. Zach Baker is the sports editor for The Courier.