Monday, April 28th, 2008...2:51 pm
Roses and Bosses
People will ask me why I am writing this book about the 1975 Cincinnati Reds. Well, OK, wait, that’s not technically true — people haven’t really asked me much about that. It’s more of a “writer’s device” designed to get into this blog entry and, at the same time, promote my upcoming book about the ‘75 Reds (March of 2009, save up now, but first you can buy this book which is already out and has a five star Amazon rating!). But if people ever did ask why I am writing this book, I would probably offer the top three reasons, in no particular order:
1. Money.
2. That incredible team haunted my childhood*.
3. I still love Pete Rose.
*I am entirely fascinated by the people and teams that have haunted my sports experiences. I’ve always thought, in a modest way, that I could write a good John Elway book because I cannot stand that son of a gun. He has stuck so many knives in me through the years that my blood has gone orange. I believe my own fan relationship with Elway — the guy who broke my heart over and over again — could be more interesting than the view of some big John Elway fan. Anyway, it would be to me.
The first reason I’m writing the book is obvious. The second reason is pretty obvious too — I grew up in Cleveland when the Indians were dreadful and decked out in the most gruesome red uniforms yet invented. Four hours away the Cincinnati Reds (immaculately dressed, always) played the best baseball in the entire world. I had a complicated relationship with that Reds team — every so often my mother would get me Reds clothes by mistake, and I was mortified, and I would shout, “No MOM, I’m an INDIANS fan, I HATE the Reds,” but I would also wear those clothes with a strange sense of pride. I did despise that Reds team, only I didn’t, I knew the lineup backward and forward, pretended sometimes to be Jack Billingham, and basically knew about as much an 8-year-old kid could know about the Reds, including (for some reasons this has always stuck with me) that Joe Morgan wanted to be a Junior College coach after he finished playing.*
*I cannot remember where I first heard that — but I remember being confused by the Junior College concept. What is a Junior College anyway? Is it like a regular college only smaller? Did they only allow small people to attend? I was the shortest kid in my class, and I can remember thinking: Would I grow tall enough to go to a Senior College or would I be stuck at a Junior College being taught baseball by a Little Joe Morgan? I would pump my elbow like Morgan at the plate, just in case.
The third reason, though, probably stands out. I still love Pete Rose. I know — probably as well as most — his flaws, his failings, his mistakes, his obsessions, his addictions. Here’s the thing: Even his most hostile and venomous critic will concede the guy came to the ballpark to play every day. Maybe some of the hustle was show. Maybe he needed to pop a greenie now and again to keep going. Maybe he turned his back on things and people in his life that should have been more important. Maybe he was so consumed by the need for action that he got lost. Maybe at his core Pete was so much about Pete that he simply did not have anything left to give to anyone else. Maybe he just didn’t give a damn.
No matter what, though, none of that changes the singular truth of Pete Rose’s baseball career: He banged out more hits than any man who ever played this American game of baseball, and he did it by never relenting, never stepping down, never treating another game like another game. To me there’s greatness in that, in trying harder, in caring more, in pushing beyond, in not backing off even when the stakes seem absurdly low. You always hear about those guys who would to beat you even “in a game of tiddlywinks.”* There are a lot of tiddlywinks stories about Pete Rose.
*For some reason, it’s always tiddlywinks. It’s never “He’s competitive, he’d want to be you at a game of backyard croquet.” Or Yahtzee. Or a heated game of Gnip Gnop. I mean, do people even still PLAY tiddlywinks? DIdn’t tiddlywinks go out of date like a billion years ago — when guys would get together for a little tiddlywinks, then wander around the neighborhood singing “Buffalo Gals” and then split up so they could get their surry and take their sweethearts to the ice cream social?
Rose had that tiddlywinks intensity — no matter how much you wanted to win, he wanted to win more. If he was 4 for 4, and the score was 11-2, and the crowd had already filed to the exits, and the other regulars were out of the game, and even the umpires just wanted to go home, Pete Rose damn well wanted ONE MORE HIT, and he didn’t just want that hit, he wanted it with the sort of white hot ravenousness few people ever feel for ANYTHING. Remember when the Terminator wanted to kill so badly that after he was blown up in to a liquid droplets, those droplets came back together? Yeah, that’s how much Rose wanted the next hit.
None of this makes Pete an especially honorable or admirable character, necessarily, but I can’t help but love the guy anyway for what I call his heightened sense of caring. People always talk about how, if they had the talent (and they were making that kind of money), they would play just like Pete Rose, run to first on walks, take extra ground balls for hours, stretch singles into doubles, slide head first and all that. But it’s only after you live for a while and are disappointed a few times that you see just how hard it is to give everything you have every day, to play through pain, to not let failure or misfortune shut you down, to avoid the unmistakable feeling that you have accomplished enough and put up with enough stuff and should be allowed to rest for a few minutes.
Pete never rested. Never. To get 4,256 hits, you need to get 200 hits when you are 21, and 200 hits when you are 41, and 200 hits every single season in between — and even then you will not quite get there. There are no wasted at-bats when you’re trying to get to 4,256. No empty games. I love Pete Rose because, in my mind, he gave more of himself to the game than anyone; no, it didn’t make him a well-rounded person, but are any truly obsessed people well-rounded? Doesn’t this cut to to the very definition of obsession? Pete Rose liked (and likes) cars and women and gambling and money and sports and fame. He loves baseball, though. He loves baseball with all the madness in his soul.
All that leads to the real purpose of this essay: Bruce Springsteen. I saw him in concert in Charlotte on Sunday, It was the fifth time I saw Springsteen, which might seem like a lot for anyone out there who casually likes Springsteen or does not like him at all, but it’s a pathetic badge of dishonor for the real Springsteen fans who would consider anyone who does not see Bruce five times on EACH TOUR to be a piker. I tend to be more ashamed that I have seen him only five times than proud that I have now traveled to five different cities to see him.
In any case, Springsteen is now 57 years old, almost 58, and he’s been putting on America’s most labor intensive rock shows for almost 40 years now. Everyone who saw Springsteen in the 1970s can share some absurd concert story about the Boss playing nine hours at a bar in Des Moines, then driving to Ames that night and performing for another three hours for free for the few people who happened to be in the bar. The concerts have shortened over the years, of course, but they are still epic. Sunday he still went hard for 2 hours and 45 minutes with only one short encore break, which is beyond the capacities of pretty much any young performer out there. It’s inhuman for a 57-year-old man.
I’m not going to offer a detailed concert review because, by now, you have no doubt decided whether or not you like Bruce Springsteen, and there’s nothing I could possibly add. The Boss has now reached that level of weather — you either like the weather in Phoenix or you don’t. My saying “it’s a dry heat” won’t sway any votes.
But I will tell you this: I watched Springsteen very closely when he performed “Born to Run” toward the end of the show. I watched the close-ups of his face on the video screen, and I watched the way he moved around the stage, and I listened carefully to the pitch of his voice. My God, how many times has Bruce Springsteen performed this song by now? The album “Born to Run” came out in 1975, almost 33 years ago, and he performed the song even before the album came out. So has he performed it live 5,000 times? I’ll bet it’s been more. Maybe 7,500 times? Maybe 10,000 times?
There are certain professional things we have all done thousands of times. I know truck drivers who have driven more than three million miles. We all do. We know doctors who have delivered thousands of babies, and mechanics who have fixed thousands of cars, and chefs who have grilled thousands of steaks and all that. But Springsteen’s repetitions is a little different, and not just because Springsteen gets paid a lot more money to sing “Born to Run”, and not just because he gets many more perks and shrieking women and whatever. It’s because every single time Bruce Springsteen performs that song, there are thousands and thousands of people in the crowd that want a transcendent moment. That’s his song, but it’s also our song, it has meant something important to countless people. We will know if he means it.
And yet … how can he mean it? How many times can a man sing, “It’s a death trap. It’s a suicide rap,” and mean those words like he did when he was 22 years old? Springsteen is a much different man now. He’s rich. He’s famous. He’s had letdowns. He’s had triumphs. He’s had children. He’s political now. He’s an icon now. He’s a lot of things now that he was not 33 years ago. And yet people still have a hunger for that song and for the feeling we had when we first heard it. Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. We don’t want Bruce Springsteen to grow old for that most cliche of reasons. We want him to sing Born to Run like he wrote it yesterday. We want it to BE yesterday.
I watched him. I listened to him. And I have to tell you — he played the hell out of that song in Charlotte, North Carolina, at the end of a long American tour. I kept looking at him, trying to figure out his motivation. It could be money, I suppose, though he has plenty. It could be the cheers, but honestly, has any man ever heard more cheers? It could be a generosity of spirit; a sense that he still wants to make people feel. Isn’t that at the heart of music? Sports too? Pete Rose used to tell people — like Joe DiMaggio said before him and Michael Jordan said after — that he had to give everything because there was someone in the crowd (some father and son probably ) who were seeing him for the very first time, and he could not stand the thought of leaving them cold. Maybe there is some of that driving Springsteen.
Or maybe there is something else driving him, something that we would not understand. Motivation is a tricky thing. I asked Pete Rose why he played so hard for so long, and he said that came from his father who had told him that the way to win a fight is to hit first. Maybe that makes sense to you. Maybe it doesn’t. I thought about Rose and how much baseball mattered to him as I listened to Springsteen wail those familiar words for the 10,000th time in his life — runaway American dream, stepping out over the line, guide your dreams and visions, strap your hands ‘cross my engines, baby, I’m just a scared and lonely rider, I want to know if love is real. I can’t say he sang it like it was the first time, but he sang it like he meant it, he still hit first, and I just think there’s something inspiring about that.
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46 Comments
April 28th, 2008 at 5:45 pm
You always amaze me, Joe. Brilliant blog.
I still am the only current Cincinnati fan living within 10 minutes of Cincinnati that hates Pete Rose and thinks he deserves everything that is and will be handed down to him in the future.
April 28th, 2008 at 6:12 pm
Here’s a “Born to Run” story. I’m a musician, hang around with musicians. About 5 years back, Rick Ness from Figdish was doing weekly theme rock karaoke shows every Sunday night. Bands would learn a song or 3 on the theme and get up and perform it at the club (Bottom Lounge).
The theme for the night was roads, streets, avenues. So somebody did “Where the Streets Have No Name, ” someone else did “Roadrunner,” and so on. Maybe someone did a song by Drivin’ ‘N’ Cryin’.
My turn came and I was backed by the non-Rick members Rick’s current band (Ness), a trio of astoundingly good musicians. I announced thusly:
“This song mentions streets, boulevards, and highways. It’s by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band, and it’s the best love song ever written.” Then we did the song. I played the sax solo on the kazoo. We killed.
Now, Chicagoans are jaded to the extreme, at least maybe my peers. We all are bitter in our failure and jealousy except for the guys who didn’t fail, who are bitter that everyone here
acts - aggressively - like they’re no big deal. In our world, Springsteen still brings derision because the “Born in the USA” album was so shit that Reagan liked it. But the crowd just went nuts. It was perfect. Not me, mind you, but it. It was best expressed a week later by Mike McIntyre (from Nine Day Wonder!) who told me:
“Thank you. That was sooo needed. You weren’t winking and you weren’t ironic. You MEANT it.”
My point isn’t how great I am, although yeah, I AM really big fizz. My point is that that song is the solid truth and it is right and it can’t be denied. It is the best love song ever written, and I’ll fight anyone that says otherwise.
April 28th, 2008 at 6:25 pm
While I try to forget that you think the world of Bruce Springsteen, let me just say that the Terminator comparison isn’t apt. As the frozen metal liquefies, it naturally reforms. Its not a part of its desire to kill John Conner, its simply a result of how it was manufactured, as “liquid metal”.
The proper Terminator comparison is to the first movie, when all that is left of the Terminator is the head and one arm, and it is still dragging itself toward Sarah Conner so that it can terminate her - that’s how much Pete Rose wanted the next hit.
April 28th, 2008 at 7:36 pm
This post - great as usual - makes me think of the difference between respecting someone and liking them. I respect the way Rose played, much as I respect Springsteen’s dedication. I’ve never liked Rose, though, and Springsteen’s music isn’t my cup of tea.
April 28th, 2008 at 7:39 pm
Other athletes that came to mind while reading Joe’s essay who shared the same inner fire as Pete Rose, and whom I liked very much despite the fact that I knew even then they probably weren’t very good people: 1) Jimmy Connors, who shared with Rose the Prince Valiant haircut, a singularly vulgar sense of humor and the sense (perhaps necessary for him to perform to his fullest) that he was battling the whole world, and 2) Roberto Duran, who by the time he fought Sugar Ray Leonard for the first time had become this mythic figure in America, the implacable warrior for whom nothing else seemed to matter. (Which was why, of course, the “No Mas” fiasco was so shocking at the time.) The writer Gerald Early has pointed out how remarkable it was that Duran was a big star in America even though he never mastered — in fact, apparently never bothered to TRY to master — the English language. The fury was enough, and we all ate it up, back when boxing mattered.
April 28th, 2008 at 8:29 pm
As only a seventeen year-old, I have to say that your bit on Bruce is something I absolutely identify with. Despite not growing up with the Boss in his prime, my dad has taken me to enough concerts to turn me into a wanna-be hardcore fan (because my dad is so one of those, having seen Bruce over 85 times since he first did at blah blah…you know how it goes). I’ve only seen him seven times on three different tours, but I will back you up any day of the week, Joe, on your Springsteen thoughts. P.s. love the blog. Read it all the time. And dont let straight-laced fools get you down - tangents are fantastic!
April 28th, 2008 at 8:37 pm
Sweet blog, Joe. You’re feeling it with this Reds project, I can tell. A perfect subject. Hopefully you riff like this in the book. Can not wait for the read.
April 28th, 2008 at 9:27 pm
For anyone who needs more encouragement to buy the book RedReporter.com is holding a weekly discussion of it. This Thursday we’ll be covering the first 24 pages. So follow one of Joe’s Amazon links then hop over to chat about Buck with some Reds fans.
April 28th, 2008 at 10:13 pm
Pete Rose is a VERY polarizing guy when it comes to baseball fans, there’s NO questioning it. But I don’t even think there’s ONE fan who followed baseball when Pete played (in the PRE- Sport * Center Highlight/Baseball Tonight Plays of the day era) who could say Pete wasn’t one of the greatest players, and hungriest players ever. You may like, love, detest or want to ignore the man, but you can’t deny his place in history–it’s just abnormal to do so. After all of this Steroid-related nonsense and babble, it might be nice to have Bud Selig reinstate Pete and let him into the Hall of Fame, where any baseball fan with half a brain who doesn’t live in Rob Neyer OPS and OPS+ Land knows Pete truly belongs—in the Pantheon of the Greats. It won’t really be a complete Hall of Fame without him, truth be told. So what if he has more of “A HUNGRY HEART” than most when it came to life? He also had one when it came to baseball, and more hungry than almost all, no need to fault him for that–better to praise and celebrate him for his Hungry Heart.
April 28th, 2008 at 10:14 pm
And shame on me for the Springsteen Portion of that last post—I apologize respectfully.
April 28th, 2008 at 10:19 pm
Is is really all that admirable to be balls-out crazy for your fifth hit when you’re up 11-2? When you come across a guy like that when you’re actually playing the game, you’d really like to see someone put one in his earhole, because really, it’s no longer an intense desire to win. It really comes across as selfish, almost like he’s revealing that even during the 4 hits that meant something, he was really competing for himself, not the team.
April 28th, 2008 at 10:20 pm
Damn, that was wonderful, Joe.
April 28th, 2008 at 11:08 pm
I’ve always thought part of the appeal of emotional performers is that we as fans identify with their devotion to the craft. Very few athletes seem to care about the outcome of a single game the way fans do– that’s why we love the ones who live and die with every play. We want them to feel it, too, and when they don’t, we feel silly for caring as much as we do.
April 29th, 2008 at 3:07 am
“The proper Terminator comparison is to the first movie, when all that is left of the Terminator is the head and one arm, and it is still dragging itself toward Sarah Conner so that it can terminate her - that’s how much Pete Rose wanted the next hit.”
Yeah, but how’s Charlie Hustle gonna run the bases… if he’s got no legs!?
April 29th, 2008 at 5:34 am
Great post, JP. I’m reminded of a Hesiod quote my high school crew coach was fond of (my loose translation):
“Before the gates of excellence the gods of Olympus have placed sweat, blood, tears. Long is the road and rough and steep at first, but when you come to the mountaintop, when you reach the steep plane of excellence, then it is easy, even though it is hard.”
April 29th, 2008 at 6:21 am
”Is is really all that admirable to be balls-out crazy for your fifth hit when you’re up 11-2? When you come across a guy like that when you’re actually playing the game, you’d really like to see someone put one in his earhole, because really, it’s no longer an intense desire to win. It really comes across as selfish . . .”
I would argue that it’s not selfish at all to want to continue beating up a team, to pile on, as it were. You might want to tire out their bullpen, which gives your team a better chance of winning the next game. You might want to irritate them to the point of losing their cool, which again gives you a better chance of winning the next game. You might want to discourage the pitcher, which might give you an edge the next time you face him. There’s method behind that apparent madness.
April 29th, 2008 at 7:17 am
Of course Rose the player should be in the Hall of Fame. But Rose the manager deserves to be banned for life.
After he dies he should be inducted in Cooperstown and the plaque should include his banning, in bronze for all time, for all to see.
But golly. What a ballplayer! Remember the ‘75 Series? Before Fisk homered, Rose was like a kid just delighted to be able to play in such a great game!
April 29th, 2008 at 7:21 am
Joe, I’m not really a Springsteen fan and I hate Pete Rose, but this is one of the best posts I’ve ever read.
Great job.
April 29th, 2008 at 7:53 am
He’s The One.
April 29th, 2008 at 9:08 am
Joe:
Do you know the names of the 2 other athletes that have both expressed their desire to bring it every night in case some kid saw them play for the first time?
Bernie Williams, Yankee “great”(?), all-star, world champion, switch hitter, future guitar instructor for the stars (I can totally see him teaching Vinny Chase how to play “Wish You Were Here” for a role on next season’s “Entourage” while Turtle pesters Bernie about Paul O’Neill’s “greatness”).
and…..
Vin Baker, former All-Star power forward from Hartford college who drank himself out of the league.
April 29th, 2008 at 10:23 am
Joe, I know a book about Marty’s Nemesis is a tall order, but how about a POST about Horse Teeth? I’m sure a lot of Chiefs fans wouldn’t mind reading a little bit about a time when John Elway was our biggest problem.
April 29th, 2008 at 10:47 am
When I was reading the beginning of this post, I thought it was the coolest thing I had ever read about Pete Rose. And then it wasn’t even about Pete Rose, in the end. Awesome.
April 29th, 2008 at 11:20 am
>>>Pete Rose liked (and likes) cars and women and gambling and money and sports and fame. He loves baseball, though. He loves baseball with all the madness in his soul.<<<
Seems to me he loved gambling more than baseball. He clearly put that ahead of baseball as he risked playing the game ever again with every bet he made.
Great blog, but like so many Rose fans, even in your admission of his faults, you still overlook them.
April 29th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
Joe - Fantastic post! My brothers and sisters ridiculed me all the time for my obsession with the Big Red Machine (grew up in Philly) and the Boss! All of your points were right on the mark! Even though it was more Johnny Bench for me, I was always in awe of Pete’s intensity. Even though I knew the Phillies were getting an old Pete Rose and Joe Morgan, I knew that they were going to win with just their mere presence to guide that team. As for the Boss, that whole Born to Run album was a defining moment for me from the best love song ever to the greatest breakup song ever (Backstreets, of course), the raw emotion and dedication of those songs always left me inspired! Thanks for being there!
April 29th, 2008 at 2:21 pm
great blog. damn great.
not to start a s-storm, but if Ty Cobb can be in the HoF, Rose should be too.
April 29th, 2008 at 2:23 pm
You know you’re reading Joe’s blog when the first sentence of the TWELFTH paragraph is “All that leads to the real purpose of this essay”!!
Not to be a sap, but I think that when you truly love doing something, you can do it an infinite number of times and still mean it.
Asking how many times Bruce Springsteen can play Born To Run is like asking how many times you can hug your kids and still mean it.
April 29th, 2008 at 2:25 pm
Also Joe, please buy the Hold Steady record “Boys and Girls in America”
You will love it. You’re a Springsteen fan.
And you don’t want to be one of those guys who obsesses over Bruce because they haven’t heard any new records in 20 years (Peter King, Chris Russo).
April 29th, 2008 at 4:04 pm
Joe,
Just a great blog post. Those two are great Americans, and in their body of work very few come close to how hard they push it.
April 30th, 2008 at 1:27 am
I just got to see the Boss for the first time when he hit Dallas, and it was amazing. I think “Jungleland” was maybe the highlight of the show for me. As for the knock on “Born in the U.S.A.”, I think when you get past the synth-heavy production (which is really just a sign of the times more than anything else), you’ll find an amazing record.
As for Elway, I fucking loathe that horse-toothed prima donna. There is no one in the history of the NFL that I hate more than him. I saw a car purchased from an Elway dealership about six months ago, and almost got out and keyed it. My fellow Chiefs’ fan friend in the car had the same feeling.
I hate John “Sunshine” Elway.
April 30th, 2008 at 1:28 am
And “Sunshine” is derived from going blind whenever he smiles and reveals his yellow grill.
April 30th, 2008 at 3:03 am
Because of Pete Rose I slid head first every time I slid in little league, unfortunately I probably only had 1/1000 of the hits he had.
I also hate John Elway, yet find him to be an intriguing/likable guy… which only makes me hate him more.
April 30th, 2008 at 6:40 am
Great post, Joe.
I think the appeal of both Springsteen and Rose is that their greatness is a result of hard work and passion. Niether is particularly blessed with outstanding natural ability. Springsteen doesn’t have the best voice, is not the best guitar player. Rose is not the most physically gifted athlete. But both guys will simply work you under the table. America loves an underdog, the never say die mutts that you just can’t keep down.
Their ability to overcome their shortcomings through force of will and determination, really speaks to the average Joe trying to scratch out a living. If Pete and Bruce can “…sweat it out in the streets of a runaway american dream”, maybe we can too…
April 30th, 2008 at 9:34 am
Joe, gotta agree with the previous poster about The Hold Steady’s “Boys and Girls in America”. They’re an acquired taste, but are definitely in the Springsteen mold. Give em a listen.
April 30th, 2008 at 10:46 am
He banged out more hits than any man who ever played this American game of baseball, and he did it by never relenting, never stepping down, never treating another game like another game.
Yeah, and penciling his own name in the lineup… ‘Cause after this line from your 40+ year old 1B .245 .316 .286, you’ve got to wonder why
April 30th, 2008 at 12:16 pm
Roses and Boses or Rosses and Bosses.
April 30th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
That reminds me of the 1992 Perot slogan of “Ross for Boss.”
April 30th, 2008 at 12:21 pm
I do love this blog, although shouting at your mother is something that should be punished by a ass whoopin’.
Editor’s note: Fear not. There were those.
April 30th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
Buzz Bissinger disapproves of you and your worthless blogging brethren, no matter how well-written this post may be.
April 30th, 2008 at 1:16 pm
Given that he’s a columnist, book author, and blogger, I’m kinda surprised Joe hasn’t weighed in on Bissinger’s rant last night.
April 30th, 2008 at 1:43 pm
First time ever to read your blog and that was GREAT. Look forward to coming back tomorrow.
April 30th, 2008 at 2:31 pm
I too would like to hear Joe’s comments on that ambush/farce last night.
If you haven’t seen it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9fCfgTjlWU
April 30th, 2008 at 2:44 pm
So, Pete Rose is David Eckstein?
It’s cool if people love Pete Rose, but I never understand the “that guy came to play every day!” motivation behind it. Do 99% of current players today not come to play every day? I’m pretty sure that Alex Rodriguez, the personification of Evil and Everything That Is Wrong With Baseball Today ™ comes to play every day.
And I’m sure that when Pete Rose struck out, he murdered an orphan in the dugout to show his displeasure, while A-Rod kind of walks away with a look that says “Holy crap, I hope he doesn’t throw me **that** slider again”.
I’m not really sure if that means that Pete Rose somehow “cared more” about playing the game of baseball.
“they would play just like Pete Rose, run to first on walks, take extra ground balls for hours, stretch singles into doubles, slide head first and all that”
- Running to first on walks seems rather silly. The very first time you blow out your hammy you’re going to get lynched for doing it. Also, I’d like to see Pete run to first on walks every day for 162 games without the benefit of a jar of greenies every month.
- I see a story about a guy “taking extra ground balls for hours” at least once a week. Especially if it’s a story about David Eckstein.
- Stretching singles into doubles seems a function of speed. You don’t want Frank Thomas or Jason Giambi trying to do it a lot. I’d imagine you’d want Joey Gathwright trying to do it all the time.
- 99.9999999999999999999999999999% of all players since Pete Rose slide headfirst. The only one who didn’t do so was the guy with coke in his back pocket.
I’m still not sure why this made Pete Rose so special?
“To get 4,256 hits, you need to get 200 hits when you are 21, and 200 hits when you are 41, and 200 hits every single season in between”
And it helps being the manager of the team so you can keep writing yourself in the lineup for ~ 3000 at bats or so, while your OBP is under .300 and your slugging is in the low .300s and you are absolutely KILLING your team by hoovering all these at-bats, just so that you can be “The Hit King.”
We all love different players, and there is nothing wrong with loving any of them. I just never quite get the love people have for Pete Rose. Would you want him as a role model for your kid(s)?
April 30th, 2008 at 2:56 pm
Numbers typo. That should really read “while your .OBP is under ~ .350″
April 30th, 2008 at 4:19 pm
I’ve been thinking about this for awhile and now, with the events on HBO last night, feel this is the right time to ask this question: Since you are a blogger now, Joe, does this mean you live in your mother’s basement? If so, you need to get a life man.
April 30th, 2008 at 4:50 pm
Excellent piece, sir. While most of my time is spent blogging at the House of Georges, I did, for a short spell last summer, tinker with a Pete Rose blog where I literally posted once a day and mailed the post to Bud Selig’s office. Time, being of the essence, ran out, but the passion for Pete is still there.
May 1st, 2008 at 10:25 pm
joe,
being a transplant from the jersey shore nobody enjoys your blog more than I — especially when Springsteen shows up.
back when i was catching bruce and his band steelmill playing at places (milly’s in seabright, clearwater in atlantic highlands or hullabaloo in middletown)
The only way to find out what was happening in MLB was to check box scores in the star ledger or the daily news the following morning. as hard as it may be to believe the only way a NJ kid could get a glimpse of Pete was on Mel Allen’s “this week in baseball” or a quick glance if the reds were in flushing meadow playing the hapless amazin mets.
Kansas Cityians need to understand a few things - for years you could have gone to royal stadium and watch close-up one of the best third basemen that ever played the game - ever played the game - despite brooks, clete - later nettles, brett was always right up there — spoiled by his brilliance day after day - summer after summer - people begin to expect such things - the other thing -perhaps KC-ites might take for granted is your daily missives in the otherwise semi-dull kc-star. Not one that usually dwells in hyperbole or exaggeration your sports reporting and commentary stands alone — great stuff,
wrapping up and perhaps the real reason for this response is to let you know how excited I am about your upcoming book on Sparky and the big red machine. A great time in major league baseball — i remember king george buying gullett saying if “you can’t beat him buy him”
and finally — I am sure you have read the wonderful glimpse back at the time in baseball “Five Seasons” by another fabulous (i hasten to use the term) sportswriter Roger Angell - guys like you and Roger are writers that happen to use sports as your muse. The big red machine — the greatest world series of all-time: just off the top of my head — Armbruster and interference play - Game 6 — wow! Morgan’s hit, McAaney(? sp) striking out the sides - oh yeah the bases were loaded. Dewey Evans catch - bernie Carbo — the foul pole and fisk — and the lure - the shot caught on TV of Fisk was suppose to be a mistake — and your man Pete coming to bat and telling Fisk “how about this game”. So much stuff can’t wait. Did not want to embarrass you and don’t edit all the nice stuff about you out. Keep up the great work Joe! You are the best. And if you will allow me one more sentence — my son, Tim who will graduate from University of Texas Law school in two weeks is the one that turned me on to your blog — everyday we talk somewhere in the conversation — have you read Pos today always comes up. He is also a big fan — take care Joe!
Fred
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