Padecky: With Pete Rose, winning scrubs just about everything

There Pete Rose stood at home plate, a week ago Sunday in Philadelphia, slightly bent at the waist, remarkable in itself. Rose was on his feet. Considering his baggage he should have been on all fours, crawling toward home. A lesser man would be down there.

But Pete Rose has never been a lesser man. Rose is willfully, unapologetically, sensationally even, resistant to the hurricane blowback his behavior has created. Banned from baseball for gambling, found guilty of income tax evasion, recently accused of statutory rape, Rose shrugs as if all that were mere mosquitoes to slap away.

“Pete has zero morals,” said former teammate Curt Schilling, no shining example himself of sainthood. “He doesn’t have one ounce of couth. He’s a bad, bad guy.”

So how did the Phillies fans respond to Rose, 81, shuffling to home plate? They cheered. Cheered! This is Philadelphia, folks, famous for caustic responses to everything real or imagined. It has been said more than once Philadelphia fans would boo Santa Claus, especially if Santa went 0-for-4 and left the winning run on second base.

Yes, there were some boos but they were an indistinct murmur. Rose was a champion! Therefore by inference, Philadelphia was a champion! More than any other player, Rose represented the Phillies team that won the World Series in 1980. No longer New York’s unkempt and disregarded brother, Philadelphia now could look down at The Big Apple, not up. Sure, that was 42 years ago but Philadelphia doesn’t forget its moment in the sun.

So what that Rose has more baggage than the underbelly of an Amtrak train. Winning is a great deodorant. It freshens that which otherwise would permanently soil. Celebrity can not only skirt the truth, it can even ignore it.

O.J. Simpson always has been the litmus test for that last sentence. Kill someone, people can’t forget or forgive that.

Maybe not.

Let’s say it wasn’t 1995 and Simpson wasn’t 15 years removed from the NFL. Simpson wasn’t 48 and a bit saggy. Let’s say it was 1973 and Simpson was 24 and had just rushed for 2,003 yards in one season for the Buffalo Bills. Simpson was the talk of the NFL. Handsome, charming, O.J. was adored, maybe even worshipped, by people young and old, male or female. The quintessential picture of a charismatic personality, O.J. would become a national pitchman. Loved by all.

But it’s 1973, not 1995, and Simpson is on trial for murdering his wife and her friend. Like 1995, it gathers all the headlines, whispers and racial undertones. Fleeing the police in a Ford Bronco creates guilt. Slick lawyers battle appearances and evidence. Simpson leads the news cycle every day. It’s a criminal trial and he’s up to his eyeballs in innuendo.

But, as in 1995, Simpson in 1973 is found not guilty on two counts of murder. He is a free man, though a bit smudged. He is not a criminal, though he smells like one.

What would happen in 1973?

Simpson goes back to the Bills and keeps rushing for yards and touchdowns. Articulate, Simpson turns on the personality and charm. He is so sorry for all the attention and he feels so sorry for Nicole and her friend Ronald and he hopes like hell they find the bad guy. O.J. even puts up a reward for the capture and conviction. O.J. will shed tears and holds his two children close and people will want to believe him because he’s O.J.

Simpson is so good at the charade people, gulp, actually feel sorry for him.

Why would the Bills turn their back on Simpson? He’s been acquitted. Yes, it was embarrassing, but no professional athlete lost a job because he caused embarrassment. If that was the case the Oakland A’s of the 1970s would have never won a World Series.

So Simpson keeps playing because he is of use. It is the bottom line in any pro sport. Produce, you’re wanted, needed, even beloved if you put up Hall of Fame numbers.

But if you become just another number? Oh well, you can always buy a few “McDonalds”, sign a few autographs and live the good life of high cholesterol.

About a year and half later a civil lawsuit is filed against Simpson. A jury finds Simpson liable and awards plaintiffs $8.5 million compensatory damages. Still, not a criminal.

The end result: Simpson has his career but has to live with himself, just as Rose has. Is that possible? Yep. Pete can show O.J. how it’s done.

First, be a jerk when asked about being accused of having sex with an underaged girl.

“It was 55 years ago, babe,” Rose told a female baseball writer for the Philadelphia Inquirer Aug. 7.

That almost sounds like an admission of guilt. It does sound insensitive, flippant and dismissive. Go away, little girl. I mean, babe.

Next, double down on being a jerk.

“Who cares what happened 50 years ago?” Rose told the female reporter. “You weren’t even born. So you shouldn’t be talking about it because you weren’t even born. If you don’t know a damn thing about it, don’t talk about it.”

Hard to say what’s more impressive here - the lack of intelligence or the arrogance. I’m going with arrogance.

Many athletes have that attitude, need that attitude when they play, but they lose it when they retire. Hard to be arrogant when standing in the line for a Big Mac.

That said, Rose finally became awake to be aware, that he was sending himself down the rabbit hole. He offered to sign 1,000 baseballs for the reporter. Then slowly, as if he squeezing toothpaste out of a tube, Rose said he was sorry.

The regret lasted as long as this sentence.

When Rose walked onto the field at Citizens Bank Park, he was given a standing ovation by the fans. The man was a little more upright, his walking pace a little more crisp. It was 1980 all over again and the only thing dirty about Charlie Hustle in 1980 was his uniform.

“They made me feel real good today,” Rose said later of the applause.

That says a lot about Pete Rose. What does that say, however, about the adults who clapped and cheered? Is Pete Rose’s deodorant that strong? And should it be?

To comment write to bobpadecky@gmail.com.