THE FRONT ROW with MARK NELKE: A father, a son and a tainted hero

Ever have to tell your dad something, and you just don’t know how to do it? 

I ran into that recently, with the news that Pete Rose had died at age 83. 

When I was growing up, Pete Rose was my dad’s favorite player — Charlie Hustle, and all that.  

The leadoff hitter for the Cincinnati Reds’ Big Red Machine in the 1970s. Later with the Phillies and Expos, and then back with the Reds. 

It was news that perhaps a son should share with his father — you know, bonding and all that. 

First, I envisioned what it would be like to tell him. 

It would have been a sunny, crisp autumn day — just like during the playoffs.   

The freshly cut green grass ... just like at the ballpark. 

The son in me envisioned hearing dad’s voice: “Did you mow the lawn?” 

I envisioned mom right next to him, to also hear the news. 

I also hoped the mower at the cemetery didn’t clip their grave markers when it passed by this week. 

FORTY-FOUR years ago this past Friday, my dad died of cancer. 

In 1980, Pete Rose was still playing baseball — though now with the Phillies. 

Ironically, my dad died while Pete Rose and the Phillies were playing the Houston Astros in the National League Championship Series. 

My mom died during the 1992 Summer Olympics, the day after Charles Barkley elbowed that Angola player and nearly caused an international incident.  

Some people wonder why I remember family tragedies by the sporting events that were going on at the time. 

Hey, we all remember events the way we want to. I also remember that dad parred the final hole he ever played, on a golf course which is now an open field.

Anyway, back in 1980, Pete Rose was still Charlie Hustle. 

He was not yet the all-time hits leader. 

He was not yet the man banned from baseball for life for gambling on the national pastime. 

He was not yet the man who, long after his playing career ended, remained in the public eye by doing autograph shows, in Las Vegas and elsewhere — even sometimes in the northwest — hoping someday that baseball would reinstate him. 

I OFTEN wondered what my dad would have thought of what happened with Pete Rose after my dad had passed.  

Sometimes your heroes — or at least, people you admire and root for — turn out to be, well, not quite so heroic.

But we’ll never know what dad would have thought. 

However, we do know one thing for sure:  

Yes dad, I did mow the lawn.  

Mark Nelke is sports editor of The Press. He can be reached at 208-664-8176, Ext. 2019, or via email at mnelke@cdapress.com. Follow him on X (formerly Twitter) @CdAPressSports.