As a Boy Scout, I used to carry what is called a Totin’ chip card. It is a card that signifies you are a responsible enough to use a tool and more important safely use a pocket knife, axe or saw. If you were neglectful in these duties, a scoutmaster or patrol leader had the right to tear off a corner to show you made a mistake. If you lost all four corners your card was revoked.
This past weekend I felt like I lost a corner off my unofficial Reds fan card.
Let’s back up early in March when I received my opening day tickets through the Rosie Reds. My son and wife are members of this organization and each year we get our tickets for this event and about five years ago, the policy changed where you had to get a three or 10 game package deal in order to get the opening day seats.
One of the games in the package deal was this past Friday’s game that was the kick off to honoring Pete Rose and his induction to the Reds Hall of Fame and the retirement of his No. 14. The Friday game was designated to honoring the 1976 Reds team which I consider the greatest baseball team off all time.
I am completely biased but I would stack up the Big Red Machine of 1976 against any team past or present.
Last year I was at the event that honored the 1975 team and I was just as excited to applaud them for all the great baseball they produced. After all, they were my first true baseball love.
In my life prior to my teens nothing stood in my way of my dedication and devotion to the Reds. However as I got older my love for music began to grow and by age 16 music began to really take a hold of me and going to concerts.
Even though my love for the Reds never wavered, my passion for music burned just as much. I love going to concerts and my life as a teen was going to numerous shows and seeing countless bands.
As I always told myself, my heart is with the Reds, but my soul is for music.
The two have never really interfered with each other until one of my favorite groups, Phish (yes spelled correctly for those not in the know), decided to play Wrigley Field on June 24-25.
Uh-oh. Time to make a decision. Not the life or death kind but the kind that gnaws at your loyalty and leaves you thinking there is no right choice when, and I would come to find out, there is no wrong choice.
After conferring with my wife and son, we decided to sell our tickets to the Reds and head to Chicago. I convinced myself, or rather rationalized, that because the Reds were not playing well and that I have seen the 1975 team honored I was good.
I also thought about the honoring of Rose and how much he has put Reds fans through. Rose is like that girlfriend who you can’t seem to hate even though she leaves you for more money, comes back, lies to you about her vices and blames others for their setbacks.
Rose did all these. He left Cincinnati for Philadelphia. He lied about gambling on baseball and he continues to want to point to other people who do bad things to justify his mistakes. And yet we embrace him because he is our Pete Rose. He is part of our Reds family and he never wavered on his love for baseball.
For a lot of years, I said Rose should not be in Cooperstown because he broke the most important rule in baseball . No gambling. Rose knew it and he didn’t care. Yes, he did it as a manager and although it is no reflection on how great a player he was, he still broke the one rule no one should break in baseball. We all know Rose is his own worst enemy.
The worst part is when he denied, denied, denied and then came back 14 years later and admitted he did. It was a slap in the face to all the Reds fans who believed and worshiped him. He played baseball the right way but handled his betting debacle the wrong way.
I have softened up my stance on Rose being in the Hall of Fame. I am of the belief that he should be let in as a player and on his plaque make note of his gambling and he should never be let back in major league baseball.
As we walked around the friendly confines, which by the way is one of the greatest structures ever built, I took photos of my son next to the statutes of Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, Billy Williams and Harry Caray.
But I also noticed the Draft Kings pavilion at Wrigley. Whether you think that is gambling or not, I think it shows MLB’s hypocrisy when it comes to gambling and I say it does make Rose’s case much stronger.
But I digress.
Even though the show was still two hours away we decided to enter Wrigley Field early to soak in the beauty of this baseball cathedral. The scoreboard. The ivy. The ghosts of Tinkers-to-Evers-Chance and the place where Babe Ruth called his “shot.”
But as I sat there basking in the glory that is Wrigley before it filled up with the horde of Phish fans, I started receiving photos from tweets and photos from Facebook and text and from Tom Simmons, who I had sold my seats to, for the opening ceremony on Friday.
“Ceremony was beautiful…” Simmons texted me.
Bench, Foster, Griffey, Perez, Concepion and the majority were there. I felt a ping in my heart. Man, I loved this team. I should be there. How can I miss this?
But as the concert began, I soon found myself fully immersed in the music and put my love for the Reds on the backburner.
By the time, I was driving back from Chicago Sunday, I listened to Rose’s number retirement ceremony and again felt I should have been there. True to Rose, he gave a rather unfiltered speech that again reminded you of that girlfriend who you love unconditionally.
After all, he is our Pete Rose.
As I reflect on the weekend, I still feel I made the right choice. I enjoyed both events but I do think I let my Reds’ fandom take a small hit but I still have three corners left on my unofficial Reds card.
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