Unfortunately, most star athletes abuse their power and fame, using it only for personal gain, whether it be for fame (Lebron), women (all of them) or money (also all of them). One of the worst offenders of the last kind is baseball legend Pete Rose, aka Charlie Hustle, whose 23 year career is one of the greatest of all time: most games played, most plate appearances, Rookie of the Year, MVP, and more hits than any other player in the history of the game. Unfortunately, greed got the better of Rose, and in 1989 he earned himself a lifetime ban from baseball for betting on games, most despicably betting on his own team while he was a player and manager.
As a child, I met Rose on two occasions, and both times, he was a complete and total tool.
How I didn't see it coming is beyond me.
The first occurred in 1991, when Rose was at a baseball card convention in Orlando (my hometown). I was so excited when my friends and their dad invited me to go with them to this convention, as I'd never seen a real live celebrity in person before. Being 12 and living in Central Florida, baseball was still something magical that you only saw on TV or read about in the newspaper (okay, we had spring training, but it was never the same). We didn't have a lot of money growing up, so the entrance fee alone hampered my spending that day, but there was no way I could afford a $25 signature on a ball or a $50 signature on a bat, as my friends opted for. But armed with my little 110 camera, was ready to meet a real life hero.
As my friend approached the table with his bat, he was lucky enough to get to shake the hand of the All-Time Hits Leader. Of course, fate being what it is, I hadn't advanced the film on my camera (who invented these things?) and missed the shot. I asked Pete if he would shake his hand again, so I could take another picture and I got a response I'll never forget:
"You snooze, you lose, kid."
Not a day has gone by in the last 20 days where that sage wisdom hasn't echoed throughout my brain, reminding me that Pete Rose couldn't even be bothered to take another photo for a 12-year-old with a crappy camera. What a jerk.
Fast forward to a few years later, maybe 1993 or 1994, when Rose opened up a Pete Rose's Ballpark Cafe sports bar in Boca Raton, FL. He did a nightly radio show from there and after the show would sign autographs - on merchandise purchased in the gift shop, of course. Seeking retribution, I bought a vintage-style Reds cap and once again came face to face with the man. Not knowing any better, I asked him if he remembered the incident - where he had refused to take a picture with a kid who had just paid $50 for his autograph on a bat. Without fail, I got another helping of that wisdom that has so obviously served him well in life:
"Well, you get what you pay for."
Twice in my life, I've met Pete and twice in my life, I've been subjected to his snide cliches. I wish I had the same happy memories that others have shared here, but unfortunately, I've got to side with Bud Selig and hope that his ban remains permanent.
The moral of the story: Don't be a jerk to a kid.
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