The recent announcement by MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred to reinstate baseball legends Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson, among others, has ignited discussions across the sports community. This decision, which opens the door for their eligibility for the Hall of Fame, was not a sudden development but rather the culmination of months of behind-the-scenes negotiations and deliberations. In January, representatives for Rose filed a petition with MLB, advocating for the former Cincinnati Reds star, who passed away last September. The situation gained momentum during an April meeting at the White House, where Manfred discussed Rose's case with former President Donald Trump, who has expressed his opinions on Rose for years.
Manfred’s position is precarious, as he navigates the intense political landscape that has influenced various American institutions, from law firms to universities. The pressure from the White House to align with Trump has been palpable, particularly in light of ongoing debates surrounding immigration and its impact on MLB's player demographics. It is entirely reasonable for Manfred to seek to protect the interests of Major League Baseball during such tumultuous times.
From a purely talent perspective, both Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson deserve a place in Cooperstown. Rose holds the record as MLB's all-time hits leader, while Jackson boasts a career batting average that ranks fourth in history. However, both players were banned from baseball due to gambling, which has historically excluded them from Hall of Fame consideration. In his correspondence with Rose’s attorney, Manfred articulated that the passing of Jackson and Rose eliminates any potential threat they posed to the integrity of the game. He stated, “Obviously, a person no longer with us cannot represent a threat to the integrity of the game.”
While Manfred's rationale may appear straightforward, it raises questions about the nature of accountability in sports. Just because a player is deceased does not negate the impact of their actions while alive. The Hall of Fame and MLB are distinct entities, and while it was then-Commissioner Bart Giamatti who banned Rose in 1989, it wasn't until 1991 that the Hall of Fame introduced a rule preventing players on the MLB ineligible list from induction.
Manfred emphasized that Giamatti refrained from making public judgments about Rose's Hall of Fame candidacy, leaving the decision to the Baseball Writers of America. This raises a critical point: the Hall of Fame could have considered Rose for induction before the enactment of their new rule, but it is uncertain whether he would have garnered sufficient votes. A more transparent approach to this situation may have facilitated a better public understanding of the complexities involved.
Historically, MLB commissioners operated as independent overseers of the game. Giamatti, a former Yale president, maintained a distinct separation from the sport. However, following his unexpected death and Fay Vincent’s leadership, MLB shifted towards appointing figures from within the sport, such as former Brewers owner Bud Selig. This shift transformed the commissioner’s office into an extension of ownership rather than a neutral arbiter.
Pete Rose is a multifaceted figure, embodying contradictions that complicate his legacy. Known for his relentless work ethic on the field, Rose also engaged in questionable behavior off it, including gambling and dishonest conduct regarding women. His supporters argue that Rose represents the duality of human nature: capable of both extraordinary achievements and significant failings. Despite never using performance-enhancing drugs or throwing games, Rose's fundamental violation of baseball's most sacred rule—betting on his own team as a manager—casts a long shadow over his career.
Rose's refusal to acknowledge his wrongdoing has significantly impacted public perception. Although Americans tend to be forgiving, they expect accountability. The absence of remorse from Rose, particularly following his 15 years of deceit about his gambling, has hindered any chance of redemption. Had he admitted his guilt sooner and framed his actions as a struggle with addiction, he might have found a pathway toward reinstatement, potentially even collaborating with the Hall of Fame to ensure a full account of his career was publicly displayed.
The current state of legalized gambling presents a stark irony in the realm of baseball. While Rose was penalized for his gambling activities, today, companies like DraftKings are prominent sponsors of MLB, and references to gambling are pervasive in sports media. This partnership raises concerns about the potential rise of gambling addiction, paralleling similar issues in other sports like tennis. MLB has maintained a strict policy against gambling infractions among its employees, as demonstrated by the recent dismissal of umpire Pat Hoberg for sharing betting accounts.
As we approach the year 2028, the first year in which Rose will be eligible for Hall of Fame induction, there is speculation that a member of his family may address the audience at the Hall of Fame ceremony. While this would provide a sense of closure for Rose’s family, it also serves as a poignant reminder of the unresolved complexities surrounding his legacy. The phrase “it might have been” resonates deeply as we reflect on the missed opportunities for accountability and reconciliation in Rose's story.
