Pete Rose Wagers on Fans’ Gullibility to Sell His Side of Story

Some friendly advice: Don’t get too used to the idea of missing Pete Rose, because he is already back, and I don’t think he ever plans to leave.

He’s on “Donahue.” He’s on “20/20.” He’s on Home Shopping Network. I’m pretty sure that was Rose I saw next to Dan Rather climbing the Berlin Wall.

It’s the Pete Rose Rehab Tour (complete with T-shirts and autographed baseballs), coming to your town soon. Heck, he’ll come to your house if you want.

Here’s what Pete has to say:

Yes, I may be a compulsive gambler and will seek care. (If that’s what it takes to get everybody off my back and me into the Hall of Fame). No, I didn’t bet on baseball. (That was the deal, remember? They kick me out of the game, but I get to say I didn’t bet on baseball. Some bargain, huh?) So, let’s forget all about it, but, first, why not buy my book?

Ah, the book.

Nancy Reagan has “My Turn,” and Rose has “My Story.” Don’t bother to alert the Pulitzer committee in either case. Reagan talks at length about astrology, and you get the sense, after reading Rose’s book, that Pete has his head in the clouds, too. What do you say, a round of sodium pentothal for everybody. On me.

The book. It’s by Pete Rose and Roger Kahn, who, in better days, wrote “The Boys of Summer.” You know this because, in the author’s note, Kahn says “The Boys of Summer” “became in many opinions . . . the classic baseball book; the classic baseball bestseller.” Those are Kahn’s italics and written perhaps in a desperate attempt to counter his co-author’s claim later in the book that he, Rose, was the “best hitter you ever saw.”

We have the best hitter and the best writer and, as it turns out, the best apologia since former President Richard M. Nixon’s memoirs. (Rose never read that one. In fact, by his own admission, Rose has written more books than he has read--at last count, 15-2.)

As we read on the inside flap of the book cover, this tome provides Rose the opportunity to tell his side of the story. “The day has finally come,” it tells us, “to demolish the case against him. This, then, is ‘Pete Rose: My Story.’ ”

But first, we have to get through Rose’s life and talk about the good times and explain away the bad. We learn that his ex-wife, Karolyn, is pretty much a vindictive shrew; that he left town the day his daughter was born to his present wife to hawk Pete Rose paraphernalia because she “wanted to be alone after the birth because she was exhausted”; that Rose settled a paternity suit against him out of court just to get it out of the papers; that his daughter, Fawn, who once said he was the worst father in the world, may not have meant it (although Kahn was apparently unable to interview her); and that his son, Petey, said that, OK, his dad wasn’t that bad.

We learned, too, that if Rose once used greenies, well, who didn’t, and it sure doesn’t compare to using cocaine. In sum, we learned nearly everyone loves Rose, and those who don’t are out to get him, probably because they were jealous.

Then we get to the meat of the story. Did he gamble? Yes, he says, but not on baseball.

Why, then, was he being persecuted? Kahn determines that it was all Sports Illustrated’s fault for running a story about Rose’s connection to gamblers and other unsavories. Apparently, then-Commissioner Peter Ueberroth was willing to sweep the matter under the table until SI, in order to sell more magazines, put the heat on. Then there was John Dowd, hired by the commissioner to investigate Rose and apparently out to make his case, no matter the truth. Here’s where it gets interesting.

First, Kahn likens Dowd to Joseph McCarthy and then, in a brilliant turn, brings up two claims brought against Dowd--although in both cases, Kahn concedes, Dowd had been vindicated. In one case, Dowd sued for libel and won a $400,000 out-of-court settlement. In another, one of his clients, a convicted felon, sued Dowd, and Dowd won again.

Kahn writes: “But an undeniable reality is that prosecutors and their incomes advance by means of convictions. Dowd’s training is largely along prosecutorial lines.”

So, Dowd went after Rose, and A. Bartlett Giamatti went after Rose, and baseball was bent on bringing down one of its most marketable heroes. Makes sense. But why, we’re left to wonder, if Rose is innocent, did he agree to a lifetime ban from baseball, even one that is subject to annual appeal?

That’s a tough one. But Rose, after some months, and maybe with some help, has found an explanation.

He said that, although he didn’t bet on baseball and could have proved he didn’t in a court of law, the commissioner would have blackballed him anyway for his association with gamblers and betting on other sports through bookies. Therefore, he got the commissioner to compromise, wherein there would be no finding on betting on baseball and he could apply for reinstatement after a year. What Rose failed to mention is that, under the rules of baseball, he could have reapplied after a year regardless of the terms of the settlement.

He didn’t fail to mention this, however: “For the good of my family, myself, for baseball and even for the commissioner himself, the settlement was the right thing to do.”

For the good of your family, yourself, for baseball and even for the commissioner, you can probably figure out whether it’s worth $18.95, plus tax, to buy this book.