I just received the news early Monday evening, when my old friend Bob sent me a text that said only, “Pete died.” It only took a second for me to realize who he was referring to. Even though Pete Rose was 83 years old when he passed, it was a stunner.

Pete loved and respected the game of baseball with all of his heart, mind and soul. It’s a shame he didn’t have the same love and respect for himself. Later in life, that ultimately became his downfall.

As everyone who follows baseball knows, Pete Rose was one of a kind, a throwback, the kind of player who would do anything on the field to help his team win. He played with reckless abandon, sliding head first into bases, always hustling to take an extra base, or find any edge he could muster to

beat you. His desire to win began as a youngster growing up on the west side of Cincinnati, and after his hometown team signed him as a free agent on July 8, 1960, he climbed the ladder to the big leagues in 1963. He won the starting job at second base for the Reds and was named the National League Rookie of the Year. That was only the beginning of one of the greatest careers in the history of the game.

Seven years later, Pete famously barreled over catcher Ray Fosse in the 1970 All-Star Game in his hometown to score the winning run, giving the National League a 5-4 win in the bottom of the 12th inning. The throw from center fielder Amos Otis appeared to arrive just in time for Fosse to tag Rose out and send the game to the 13th inning. Charlie Hustle lived up to his nickname however, crashing into the catcher and

causing him to drop the ball and give the NL the victory.

Critics said Rose shouldn’t have done such a thing in an All-Star Game, but that was the only way he knew how to play the game. The effort and all-out hustle each and every time he put on a baseball uniform made Pete Rose who he was. He was never the most talented player on the field, he wasn’t ultra-athletic by any means, he wasn’t a speed demon, and he was far from graceful; in spite of all that, his desire to win was exceeded by no one.

The way Pete played the game was imitated by youngsters growing up in or near Cincinnati in the ‘60s and ‘70s. I was one of those kids and we felt like Pete Rose was one of us. He was one of the primary reasons — along with the influence of my dad – of why I fell in love with the game.

From as far back as I can remember, I always tried with all my might to play as hard as Pete Rose. That example was subsequently passed on to my son, who has passed it on to his son.

I slid head first at every opportunity, even as I got into my late 30s and early 40s on the softball field. I tried to play third base and first base exactly the way Pete did, with all-out hustle at all times. I even slammed the ball into the ground after the third out of an inning if I was playing first, just like Pete did. I always tried to take the extra base, despite being less than fleet afoot.

In my younger days playing in Little League, and later in Knothole, which was a huge deal in Cincinnati, I even tried to be a switch-hitter, just like Pete. I didn’t master that whatsoever, because standing in the righthanded-hitting batter’s box felt so

uncomfortable and foreign to me. I patterned my batting stance after his by getting low and crouched at the plate.

Defensively, I always attempted to catch any ball hit anywhere close to me, whether it took a diving effort or not. Actually, diving was preferred and getting dirty was a necessity.

I was far from the only kid who wanted to be like Pete in those days; there were thousands of kids growing up in the Cincinnati area who would’ve given anything to be Pete Rose.

Later, when I realized I had no chance of appearing on a big-league roster in my lifetime, I was one of his biggest fans. I was at that aforementioned All-Star Game, thanks to my dad, and what an absolute thrill it was to be there. Riverfront Stadium had only been open a couple of weeks on

July 14, 1970, and 51,838 were packed into the new home of the Reds to see the first MLB All-Star Game to be played at night. The game featured 23 future Hall of Famers, and another who should be.

I was also present when Pete lined a base hit to left field for his record-breaking 4,192nd hit to break what nearly everyone considered to be an unbreakable achievement. It took years of sheer will power and tremendous desire for Rose to pass the immortal Ty Cobb on that September evening in 1985, and I will never forget how loud the 47,237 fans assembled in Riverfront Stadium roared when the ball hit the turf.

As he stood atop first base, the emotion shown by the 44-year-old man who played the game with the joy of a young boy was on full display, which was completely out of

character for Pete. He had to wipe away tears as the throng in Riverfront enthusiastically gave him a nine-minute standing ovation. Rose, who was the Reds player-manager at the time, also smacked a triple later in the game, and scored both Reds runs in the 2-0 win.

What I just described are merely a couple of memorable moments in a career filled with remarkable achievements. There isn’t enough space here to list all of Pete Rose’s accomplishments on the diamond. His totals of 4,256 hits, 3,562 games played, 15,890 plate appearances and 14,053 at-bats will never come close to being approached. He also hit .303 over his 24-year career.

Pete was the unabashed leader of one of the greatest teams in the history of the game, which became known as the Big Red

Machine. That team was blessed with an assortment of riches, with arguably the rest of the starting lineup possessing even more natural talent than Pete Rose. He led by example; he played harder than anyone in the game, he showed his versatility by being named an All-Star at five different positions, and the rest of the team followed his lead.

After being an integral part of the 1975 and 1976 World Champion Reds teams, Rose helped lead the Philadelphia Phillies to a world title in 1980, and yes, I was a Philly fan during his five years in the City of Brotherly Love.

I would argue that Pete Rose would’ve been one of the greatest managers in the history of baseball if not for being banned from the game he loved for betting on baseball. When that news broke, it truly saddened me. Following the investigation into the

charges of betting on baseball, he was forever banned from the game he loves, and subsequently was ineligible for induction to Cooperstown. I knew he enjoyed going to the racetrack to bet on the ponies, but this was something else entirely. As great as Rose was on the field, his issues off the field made him a complicated, and at times, a rather tragic figure.

Gambling on baseball is the one so-called cardinal rule in baseball, and Rose broke that rule. He made matters worse by denying, denying, and denying he bet on games for years. He admitted much later that he lied about betting on baseball, but by that time, he was getting no sympathy from MLB.

It really is a shame that Rose didn’t come clean years ago about his gambling. He may

have been forgiven had he done so, but on the other hand, he may not have as well.

We’ll never know.

Pete Rose may get enshrined someday down the road, but sadly, he won’t be in Cooperstown to enjoy the well-deserved recognition, and give what would’ve been a speech for the ages. Late in life, Rose became a larger than life figure who would instantly light up a room. He could and would talk baseball for hours and had numerous stories to tell about the game that he dedicated his entire life to for so many years.

He definitely belongs in the National Baseball Hall of Fame for his incomparable career between the lines, but his stubbornness got in the way of that possibility becoming a reality while he was alive. Ho

Famer in the hearts and minds of Cincinnatians, whether or not he has a plaque in Cooperstown.

Rest in Peace, Peter Edward Rose, and thank you for all of the wonderful memories.