Peter Rose was a Cincinnati boy. He was born and raised on the west side, went to Western Hills High School, and never had any intention of going to college. He was the epitome of the guy who decided the only way to get ahead was to work harder than everyone else. Back in the early 60s, when the Reds had gotten to the World Series on the backs of speedy graceful athletes like Frank Robinson and Vada, we started getting reports in the paper every March about this kid who was so eager to play, he ran to first base after a walk.
For those unfamiliar with baseball protocol, a “walk” is just that – the batter gets to go to first base for free, because the pitcher has missed the strike zone 4 times. So the batter drops his bat, and … walks … to first base. Pete had none of that. Coaches put a stop watch on him, and discovered he was running to first after a walk quicker than most players would run on a routine grounder.
At first, other players thought he was trying to show them up, but the baseball world soon discovered that was just the way he played, and lived. He was not a natural athlete; he was the guy who did whatever he was asked, because he had no margin for error. If they told him he had to switch from second base to third, or third to the outfield, or the outfield to first, he not only said nothin, but he threw himself into his new defensive position, diving for loose balls, throwing off the back of his foot, slamming into runners to tag them out – whatever it took to get the job done.
He had boundless energy, bottled up and packaged into relentless activity on the field. When the Reds moved into one of those new all-purpose stadiums in 1979, a perfectly round, symmetrical bandbox with Astro-Turf instead of grass, Pete quickly discovered the ball would bounce much more easily and farther on the artificial surface. Not only did he use this to his advantage by learning how to turn routine ground ball outs into singles (a big reason he has more hits than any other player in baseball history), but he also had fun with one of the simplest actions of the game.
He was playing first base then, and usually, after the first baseman received the ball from a fielder to put out the runner on a grounder (and no one else is on base), he throws the ball :around the horn”, flicking it to one of the fielders so they can play a little game of catch. Pete started bouncing the ball off the turn, back into his bare hand, kind of like a basketball player dribbling. THEN he would send it around the horn.
He’s also famous for playing hard, no matter what the game or conditions. In an All-Star game in the mid-70s, when the players are supposed to be throttling back a bit, so no one gets injured, he barreled full-on into the catcher (Ray Fosse) from third base, like a fullback meeting a linebacker, attempting to score a key run in a meaningless game. Fosse was never the same after that blow, and Pete took a lot of heat, but he did not back down. “It’s the only way I know how to play – all out all the time.”
What Pete kept hidden from everyone else, though, were his incredible baseball skills. His eyesight was far superior to most humans, and despite his rather stocky build, he start up and move quickly from point A to point B. Finally, he was so sure of himself, so single minded, that he could ignore all distractions, something that served him well when he found himself in the middle of a consecutive game hitting streak, the longest ever in the National League.
Speed, grace, and reckless courage – those athletes who either possess or develop all three are simply unbeatable by someone who only has achieved super-start heights in two of them. Reckless courage allows someone to forget about all the inevitable limitations inherent in each of us. It’s the final spark Robert Browning felt was missing in Amarto del Sarto, which kept him from being a transcendent artist like Leonardo or Michelangelo. “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?