THE CHEAP SEATS with STEVE CAMERON: Pete Rose the person vs. Pete Rose the ballplayer

Let’s get a chunk of honesty out of the way first. 

I did not like Pete Rose. 

Some of my feelings came from a distance, the way millions of people saw him, but some were the result of being up close — before and after games, at casual events like golf outings.  

There were bright lights affairs, too, like at a gala where I introduced him as an award winner in front of a couple thousand people. 

One thing connected all those different settings. 

Pete was all about Pete. 

He was probably the most openly self-centered athlete I’ve ever encountered. 

If this were about Pete waiting for somebody else to pick up the check, that would be one thing, but he also slapped the game of baseball — his ticket to fame and fortune — whenever it suited him. 

When Pete was managing the Reds (with the avowed Nazi Marge Schott in the owner’s box), he continued to pencil himself into the starting lineup in search of hits and more hits. 

He became full-time manager in 1985 and, much to the detriment of the Reds’ won-lost record, Pete played night after night as the bloops and ground balls piled up. 

FINALLY, he got the record. 

Pete stroked base hit No. 4,192 on Sept. 11, 1985, breaking Ty Cobb’s 57-year-old mark. 

Rose kept playing after that, and once stated flatly: “I want to get enough hits to keep that record forever.” 

He finished with 4,256, and only the baseball gods know if Pete’s notion of forever will be, really, forever. 

Since players make truckloads of money these days, you’d think they’ll have shorter careers — and thus not be hanging around to chase a record. 

It’ll also be a shock if a guy headed to the Hall of Fame fattens his accomplishments by becoming the team manager, too. 

I didn’t like Rose’s willingness to manage the Reds in pursuit of the record. 

He obviously didn’t think that another manager would necessarily indulge him — and possibly harm the club — by playing him every day. 

Pete wasn’t exactly an offensive force at that point. 

Chasing Ty Cobb in ’85, he hit .264, which sounds, you know, meh. 

But in 507 plate appearances, he managed just 12 doubles, two triples and two home runs to go with 95 singles (including plenty of ground balls on the artificial carpet of Riverfront Stadium). 

He wasn’t exactly a ballerina playing first base, either.  

There are “Charlie Hustle” fans who admire Rose for playing as long as he did, but clearly it was ONLY for a shot at his record. 

I’m more of a purist, and I want to see players out there trying to win. 

If they’re managing, same thing — the goal is to win. 

Pete was a massive egotist, though, and getting victories was secondary to piling up hits. 

I DON’T have the same problem with Pete’s gambling as I do with his personality (which could tip into outright crudeness) or his selfishness, as a supposed hero in a team game. 

No one has ever come forward to state, under oath, that Pete bet AGAINST the Reds when he was managing the club. 

Hell, I don’t think Pete’s betting should be banned by MLB. 

All the major league sports are now in partnership with betting operations. 

Locking the man with the most base hits out of the Hall of Fame for betting on games he could not influence is just plain ridiculous. 

You don’t get to Cooperstown on your personality (although Barry Bonds can tell you it helps). 

Keeping Bonds out is absurd. 

Moreso than Rose. 

Still, Pete should be a shoo-in, and his ban from baseball altogether overturned long ago — when he was alive to know that justice was done. 

No doubt he would have been even more obnoxious with that ultimate honor, but the game still should have done what was right. 

There were plenty of things I disliked about Pete Rose, but it’s a fact that he got 4,256 hits over 24 seasons — as a switch-hitter, one of most difficult skills the game can offer. 

I couldn’t dislike him as a ballplayer.

Email: scameron@cdapress.com 

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press four times each week, normally Tuesday through Friday unless, you know, stuff happens. 

Steve suggests you take his opinions in the spirit of a Jimmy Buffett song: “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.”