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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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time
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040389
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04038900.024
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1990-09-22
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SPORT, Page 85The Sad Ordeal of Mr. BaseballPete Rose faces gambling charges -- and a threatened legacy
By Tom Callahan
Baseball and Pete Rose, once thought to be inseparable
institutions, teetered last week on the edge of an almost
unbearable sadness. Several Cincinnati-area bookmakers allege that
Rose has been betting on baseball games. If Rose is found to have
gambled on baseball, he can expect a year's suspension as Reds
manager. If he bet on Cincinnati games, Rose could be shunned for
life by the sport he personifies, jeopardizing everything he has
accomplished, even the place in baseball's Hall of Fame that awaits
him in 1992.
The first alarm bell rang in February, when Baseball
Commissioner Peter Ueberroth and National League President A.
Bartlett Giamatti summoned Rose to New York City for a private
conversation on a secret subject. Reporters who knew Rose guessed
gambling. Last week Ueberroth acknowledged that his office was
conducting an ongoing investigation into "serious allegations"
after Ron Peters and Alan Statman, a saloon-keeping bookie and his
lawyer, claimed they had been cooperating with the commissioner's
office. They offered to expand on their testimony for a fee to
SPORTS ILLUSTRATED and the Cincinnati Enquirer. Both publications
demurred. But the story began to drip out, and its most graphic
charge was that the leading hitter in baseball history may have
exchanged signals with his bookie from the dugout. Rose denies
betting on baseball games or indulging in any other illegal form
of gambling, though he admits he is a habitue of dog and horse
tracks.
The ordinarily bright spring-training atmosphere was further
darkened by proliferating reports that Rose has blown his fortune
on wagers. The Dayton Daily News stated that he recently sold the
bat and ball from his record 4,192nd hit. Rose responded with a
melancholy "No comment." None of his comments throughout the
besieged week were more expansive than a flippant remark to S.I.:
"I'd be willing to bet you, if I was a betting man, that I have
never bet on baseball."
A hometown Cincinnatian too enthusiastic ever to walk to first
base, Rose arrived in the major leagues as a flat-topped Reds
second baseman whom Mickey Mantle rechristened "Charlie Hustle."
Through 24 seasons at five positions, Rose devoured the game with
such a primitive pleasure that people said he had skipped his true
generation. Usually sliding on his stomach, he inched closer and
closer to the dustiest of legends until in 1985 he passed Ty Cobb
in total hits and kept on going to a record 4,256 hits and 3,562
games. Then he became the legend.
Always a numbers man, Rose was at the vanguard of baseball's
economic revolt. His original ambition, "to be the first $100,000
singles hitter," sounds quaint now. In the late 1970s he made an
auction out of the new free-agent system, and for $3.2 million over
four years stopped off in Philadelphia to show the Phillies how to
win.
As a player, Rose savored six World Series and three world
titles. But in four seasons as a manager, he has directed the Reds
to second place in the National League's West Division four times.
Even before the gambling charges, Cincinnati owner Marge Schott was
said to be impatient with him.
Particularly in the age of cocaine, all sports hold their
breath over the specter of betting and its potential to devastate
the integrity of players. But baseball is most sensitive to
gambling. The commissioner's office was founded in 1920 in reaction
to the rigged World Series the year before, when the Cincinnati
Reds were the beneficiaries. First Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain
Landis, a federal judge from Illinois, ignored technical acquittals
and permanently banned the eight Chicago Black Sox players
involved. In 1947 A.B. ("Happy") Chandler suspended manager Leo
Durocher one season merely for associating with gamblers.
Ueberroth's predecessor, Bowie Kuhn, banished Detroit pitcher
Denny McLain for half a year in 1970 for financing a betting shop.
In 1979 and in 1983 Kuhn politely ordered casino glad-handers
Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle to stay away from baseball until they
quit playing golf with gamblers. To much applause, Ueberroth
rescinded that ban four years ago. In the last week of his tenure
(Giamatti takes office April 1), the Rose affair may make him
wonder if that was such a great signal.
Imagining baseball without Rose is hard, but imagining Rose
without baseball is horrible. On plane rides home from the World
Series, he used to calculate the number of days to spring training.
He marks time by the inning, even in references to his birth in
1941, usually adding, "the year of Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting
streak." During Rose's own hitting streak in 1978 -- the National
League standard of 44 -- he was caught in a paternity suit, and his
marriage was dissolving. Only between the white lines of the field
was he serene. Last week, before a mob of reporters, he tried for
that carefree athletic slouch when he said, "This is great. My
players can experience the kind of atmosphere they'll be facing in
October." But his tone was tinny.