HISTORY RE-PETES ITSELF
THE LATEST revelations about Pete Rose’s gambling past — which came about with the sudden and curious reappearance of the 1989 betting ledger kept by his former memorabilia agent, Mike Bertolini — if nothing else have ensured that the game’s all-time hit king can never come off baseball’s permanent ineligible list.
That Rose, according to the page copies of the ledger obtained by ESPN, bet on baseball as a player for the Cincinnati Reds, and not just as a manager, merely adds one more layer of lies and denials on his part. But because the penalty for betting on baseball — permanent ineligibility — has been clearly stated since 1920, it was hard to imagine new commissioner Rob Manfred lifting Rose’s ban anyway when he meets with him in the next few weeks. All this does is further sully Rose’s image, just as a groundswell of support for him to be reinstated after 26 years of banishment appeared to be forming in the wake of all the steroid cheats coming onto the Hall of Fame ballot.
Indeed, when it comes to reinstatement for Rose, Manfred’s off the hook now. Even after finally coming clean about his betting on baseball, Rose continued to insist he never bet as a player — despite the assertions to the contrary in the Dowd Report — and now even his most ardent supporters are hard-pressed to have any sympathy for him.
All of this, however, changes nothing in regard to the long-standing baseball conundrum: Does Rose belong — or should he at least be eligible — for the Hall of Fame? The reason this is a conundrum is because Rose is much like Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Alex Rodriguez in many ways. Everything they have said and done off the field — the lies, denials, lies on top of the lies, etc. — renders them illegitimate. The difference, in contrast to the others, is that everything Rose did on the field was legitimate.
No more respected sports voice than Bob Costas, when posed that question by ESPN’s Hannah Storm last Monday, said affirmatively that the Hall of Fame should still be a separate issue from Rose’s permanent ineligibility and that, in his opinion, Rose should be in the Hall of Fame. Mind you, Costas is someone many people in the past even promoted for commissioner. “I said that and I’ve always felt that way,” Costas told me Friday, “but I would add that I would vote for him with less pleasure and less enthusiasm than ever before. He’s just made it so difficult.”
Interestingly, in an interview Costas had with Manfred a few weeks ago, he specifically asked the new commissioner whether baseball, through its own investigations, knows anything about Rose’s recent or current behavior or associations that would change fans’ minds if they knew about it. Manfred responded: “I can tell you, there is no recent investigation or material involving Pete Rose.”
Perhaps this whole issue of Rose and gambling on baseball would be much more clear-cut if baseball itself wasn’t in partnership with DraftKings, the online daily fantasy sports website in which millions of dollars are won and lost by fans essentially betting on the performance of professional athletes. MLB maintains that fantasy baseball isn’t gambling per se as it falls under the regulatory category of “games of skill” — and that it was beneficial (not to mention highly profitable) for baseball to be involved with an industry that promotes daily interest in the game among younger fans. It should be noted that neither the players themselves nor anyone working in Major League Baseball is permitted to engage in DraftKings’ baseball fantasy operation.
“In terms of growing the game among young people, baseball’s association with DraftKings makes sense,” said one sports executive. “But at the same, you’re talking about people betting on players every day and, in that respect, baseball’s stance against gambling, if not hypocritical, at the very least becomes blurred.”
NO HELP IN SIGHT
On Friday, Mets GM Sandy Alderson again acknowledged the need for a hitter, going so far as to say he’s willing to overpay for one. But then Alderson qualified that by saying, “there has to be something to overpay for.” Alas, this is the Mets’ problem. Yes, they need a hitter, but who? Even though he has underachieved somewhat, Lucas Duda is a fixture at first base; Wilmer Flores, whose primary asset is his bat, is now manning second, with Daniel Murphy ready to take over third when he comes back from the disabled list. Curtis Granderson is likewise a fixture in right field, and Juan Lagares, bad elbow or not, is a mainstay in center. Right now, the most important hitter Alderson can add is Travis d’Arnaud, who, whenever he’s healthy, seems to transform the lineup. The fact is, the big bat for whom Alderson would be willing to overpay for, probably isn’t out there now, and he has to hope that if he can ever get d’Arnaud and Murphy back — and not lose anyone else to injury — the Mets’ offense will start to click again. In the meantime, however, Alderson should be keeping an eye out for an outfielder — think Justin Upton, whom Padres GM A.J. Preller will soon almost have to trade in order to cut his losses and get more back than just a draft pick if and when Upton bolts for free agency at season’s end, or even old friend Marlon Byrd, whose power has come alive for the Reds after a horrible first month — with the idea of making Michael Cuddyer, who has greatly underachieved, an extra player off the presently barren bench. Alderson clearly understands the Mets need a jolt. Bringing up Steven Matz and moving Flores off short is a start, but it must now be assumed David Wright is not going to be much of a factor if and when he ever does return, and if the opportunity arises, particularly to get a premium hitter such as Upton despite his pending free agency, that’s an overpay Alderson needs to make.