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And Another Thing

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A cold day in you-know-where

So, Pete Rose wants to manage again.

He says he's done his time. He says he's properly repented. He says he's come clean, done everything baseball has asked, so how come his phone's not ringing?

Let me answer that question with another question: Do you believe anything he says? Even now?

If the answer is "yes," then frankly you're coming right down Pete's street, because the man's always been able to spot a mark from a mile away. That Charlie Hustle thing has forever served a dual purpose, don't forget.

On the one hand, it described perfectly how Pete played baseball. On the other, it described perfectly how he played life.

That even now baseball and America at large seems to smell a con every time he opens his mouth is the price he pays for that life. And it doesn't help when, even as he says he's learned his lesson, he compares what's happened to him to "a singer getting caught running a red light and then not being able to sing again."

So even as he acknowledges what he did, he still doesn't get its gravity, doesn't understand why gambling on the game is so potentially ruinous -- even as fresh revelations now suggest gamblers might have fixed the 1918 as well as the 1919 World Series.

All of this said, it's all probably moot. Fact is, Pete's 70 years old and hasn't managed a ballclub in almost a quarter century. The likelihood of his phone ringing, even if someone did think they could trust him, is slim closing hard on none, anyway.

Ben Smith's blog.

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