When I met the Hit King [UPDATED]
A Jerk. (Image by Kjunstorm via Flickr)
If it’s July, then inevitably the sports news cycle will find its way to Pete Rose. It’s a brief annual event, akin to the blooming of cherry blossoms or T.O.’s mini-camp hootinanny. Each year baseball’s commissioner, Bud Selig, is either leaning towards or against lifting Rose’s lifetime ban from baseball. And each year, sports talk radio hosts are granted hours of material to recycle. Entertaining!
Personally, I’m not sure it even matters. Rose may have the most hits all-time, but he has also admitted to gambling on baseball while he was a player and manager. Banned or not, Rose may never walk between Cooperstown’s hallowed walls as a member.
Anyway, this time of year, I always think back to the first and only time I ever met Mr. Rose. I was ten years old and my grandparents had brought my older brother and me to Cooperstown for the weekend.
The old folks turned us loose on the world’s most perfect town and we immersed ourselves in baseball lore for two beautiful days. It was Sandlot-style love, from the never-ending “Who’s On First” loop (which we watched several times), to actual relics, touched and even used by, the Sultan of Swat.
Then Pete Rose nearly ruined the whole thing.
That weekend Rose was stationed just outside the Hall of Fame selling his autograph. The signature itself was priced at a reasonable $10, but Rose would only sign baseballs and photos sold at his table. The cheapest item was a glossy 8 1/2 x 11″ picture of Rose breaking Ty Cobb’s career hits record. It cost $15.
Actually, as long as we didn’t mind spending literally all of our money, the price was perfect. I had $9 and change, my brother had $15 and change….it all added up to exactly $25.
Positioned next to Rose was an assistant who asked patrons if they wanted any messages to be written along with the signature. My brother asked that the autograph be made out “To the Kates Family.” When our turn came, Rose shook each of our hands. I remember my awe at the shear girth of the paw that engulfed my tiny hand. It was the second most important handshake I had ever received, falling just slightly behind Paul O’Neill, whom we had bumped into at a Blockbuster the year before.
After handing Rose the photograph that we had purchased moments before, the assistant said “they want it to say ‘To the Kates family’….to which Rose replied “GOD DAMNIT!” before scrawling “To the Kate’s Family Pete Rose Hit King 4,256″ (note his misspelling of Kates as the possessive Kate’s – no discount for that).
We were pretty shocked. Later that night my grandpa gave us an in-depth explanation of why Rose was not in the Hall of Fame. It turned out that being a jerk was the least of his problems.
[UPDATE] In the comments section below, Glenn, my older brother corrects my memory of the Pete Rose encounter. I’ll take his word for it. He says Rose said something along the lines of “These people want me to write God Damn novels,” not “God Damnit.”
Post Your Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment
T/S Members
Log in with your True/Slant account.
Your quote is mostly accurate, but not in the proper context. He actually said something along the lines of, “These people want me to write God Damn novels.” Its just that his hand still hurt from his collision with Ray Fosse. http://www.realclearsports.com/lists/top_10_mlb_allstargame_moments/pete_roses_collision.html
Was his hand greasy when you shook it? I remember meeting him at a baseball card show when I was a little kid, and I have a very vivid memory of how greasy his hand was. I was like six at the time.
Also, by the by, I met Phil Neikro at the same show, and had him autograph my ticket stubs from his final game as a pitcher. And I remember telling him the stub was from him final game. And I remember, even as a six year old, being sure that showing someone the ticket stub from his final game should elicit a little bit more enthusiasm than what Phil showed.
Dude, Phil Niekro is officially ruined for me. That image of a large greasy hand turning a smaller hand into a pomaded remnant of the handshake where they met, will forever be tied to Niekro’s name.
I think some guys would have shown more enthusiasm about that ticket than Phil. My Grandma waited in line to get autographs from Joe DiMaggio for my brother and me (I know, totally awesome) about fifteen years ago, and when it was her turn she told him that she had been to one of the games during his streak. He responded by asking her which specific one it was. He was totally into reminiscing about individual games, which is mad cool.
In response to another comment. See in context »