Junior year has been a bear to say the least. A lot has changed since my last few posts, granted they are growing even fewer in number and further in between. I've been named the Sports Editor of my school newspaper, gotten a 220 on the PSAT, decided to go into cardiology, won awards for outstanding mock trial work as an attorney, and begun to question my formerly staunch libertarianism. That being said, I am still a passionate sports fan, and though my time here grows less and less, I appreciate whoever still reads these posts. Here is a persuasive essay--forced to be in the Rogerian format--I have written for my English III class, with a few extra paragraphs split up for ease of reading, which will be followed by an opposing view by the end of the week.
“The man I
marvel at is the one that’s in there day after day, and night after night, and
still puts figures on the board. I’m talking about Pete Rose.”
--Sparky
Anderson
Though Rose admittedly did break rules, it
is important to note that his gambling never actually affected the outcomes of
games, which was the intent behind the rule itself. The stated goal of a
manager is, quite obviously, to win games. And considering the fact that Rose
almost exclusively bet on the Reds, always to win, he was only providing
himself another incentive to do so. There were not instances of point-shaving,
spread covering, or game-throwing—such were insults to the man’s
competitiveness. His goal was to win every game, every season. Further, the
punishments for actually affecting games
by means of PEDs, scuffing baseballs, or impeding runners—the largest of which
being a 162 game ban held by Alex Rodriguez—pale in comparison to Rose’s which
obviously did not affect his managing as it only further incentivized him to perform
at a high level. "I bet on my team to win every night
because I love my team, I believe in my team," Rose said in an interview
with ESPN. "I did everything in my power every night to win that game.” Is that not the true meaning of competitive baseball?
The man has been punished for supporting
his team, while others have comparatively walked away unscathed for
deliberately affecting games, and many have walked right into the place Rose
will never be: The Hall of Fame. The most obvious symbol of Rose’s punishment, the
Hall of Fame markets itself as a testament to the history of Major League
Baseball. Outside of a performance-based election by either the Veteran’s
Committee or the Baseball Writers’ Association of America, there are no real
standards for entry. Yet, interestingly, a large majority of the proponents of
Rose’s suspension act as though it is a cathedral and that he is stuck at the
gates. He is, many claim, morally unfit for the honor. By violating the rules
of the game, he knowingly sacrificed his chance at immortality. However, many
other players of dubious character have been allowed on the ballot and have
actually been enshrined in Cooperstown.
To name a few: Ty Cobb was a racist,
Don Sutton doctored baseballs, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron used amphetamines,
and John McGraw even tripped baserunners while the umpires were distracted. Goose
Gossage even wrote a book about his illegal escapades. Further, the Hall
already profits from his contributions to the game. There are over twenty pieces
of Rose memorabilia in the Hall of Fame. Why they cannot enshrine the man who
gave those pieces meaning is beyond comprehension. If the Hall truly serves to
memorialize the history of the game, “Charlie Hustle,” a man who has admitted
his wrongdoing and repented, deserves to be a part of it.
The most obvious contribution Pete Rose
made to baseball was his superlative work ethic. Though some believe that by
gambling he violated the central tenet of the game, that he sold baseball’s
soul for personal gain, it is quite clear that he actually supported it. Rose
embodied the ideal competitor. He ran to first base on walks, slid headfirst
into bases, and took the competitive spirit and fire the game cherishes to an
entirely new level. He never took a play off. He even took an exhibition
game—the All-Star game—and turned it into a lesson on hustle, separating catcher
Ray Fosse’s left shoulder in a successful effort to win the game for the
National League. Winning was all that mattered. And though Rose was not the most
gifted hitter, nor the best fielder, nor even the best athlete, he was the best
hustler—the central dogma of the sport. Enshrining Rose, or at least lifting
his ban, would represent a symbolic return to the fundamental values—grit,
competiveness, hustle, and a “win at all costs” attitude—of the sport that
supporters of the ban say he somehow violated. It is quite obvious that a
league without Rose is a league without its soul.
Pete Rose is the victim of an unfortunate
double standard. “…to be honest with you, I picked the wrong vice. I should
have picked alcohol. I should have picked drugs or I should have picked up
beating up my wife or girlfriend because if you do those three, you get a
second chance,” he said in an interview. Though tactless, he might be right.
Though some believe Rose deserves a ban for violating the rules of the game,
such a view is misguided. By supposedly degrading the integrity of the game,
Rose brought forth one of its greatest attributes—will to win honestly. He
never threw a game. He never artificially boosted his performance with PEDs
like Sammy Sosa, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, or Barry Bonds, all of whom are
still in good standing with Major League Baseball. He never deliberately or
directly affected the outcomes of games. All he did was be the 28th
greatest hitter in league history. Should he have done any of these
despicable actions in place of betting on his own team, ironically, he would have a place
in Cooperstown by now. And that has to change.
Let the king return to his throne.
