So Pete Rose has finally admitted that he bet on baseball while he was managing the Cincinnati Reds. His confession and latest autobiography My Prison Without Bars are part of a well orchestrated campaign to convince Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig to reinstate baseball's all-time hits leader, paving the way for his induction into the Hall of Fame. Public opinion polls support Rose, and Commissioner Selig, a former used car dealer never known for his strong principled stands, appears posed to grant the wishes of Rose and his fans.

Before we rush to embrace Rose, however, there remain unanswered questions regarding Rose's gambling, and his actions need to be placed within the larger historical context of wagering by baseball players. For example, what do we make of the fact that Rose has publicly lied to us for fourteen years about his gambling practices. His earlier autobiography now has to be thrown on the trash heap, but we are expected to believe him this time. Many observers believe that dealing with the Rose scandal drove Baseball Commissioner Bart Giamatti to an early grave; while former Baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent insists that Rose has not come clean. According to Vincent, Rose bet on baseball games during his playing career, an admission which is not forthcoming in Rose's new book. Perhaps we will have to wait another fourteen years and Rose's next autobiography to get the full story.

Those unacquainted with baseball history may wonder what the Rose controversy is all about; after all, no one is accusing Rose of betting against his own team and throwing games. Of course, the fear is that a manager or player might fall deeply into debt with gamblers and be tempted to influence games in order to pay off obligations. And baseball in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries had a reputation for athletes conspiring with gamblers to fix games. These allegations ranged from the notorious Hal Chase to future Hall of Famers such as Tris Speaker and Ty Cobb.

Speculation regarding baseball and gambling culminated in the 1919 World Series in which eight players from the highly-favored Chicago White Sox were accused of making arrangements with gamblers to throw the games and allow the Cincinnati Reds to capture the championship. The White Sox players were never convicted of these actions in a court of law, for the confessions given before a grand jury disappeared and were not used in the public trial. The acquitted players, however, were banned from baseball for life by newly appointed Baseball Commissioner Kennesaw Mountain Landis, a federal judge who had earned a reputation for being tough with radicals such as the IWW and wanted to make an example of the so-called Black Sox. The banned players included Shoeless Joe Jackson, a semiliterate South Carolina mill hand whom many insist was the greatest hitter in the history of the game, and third baseman Buck Weaver, whose alleged crime was not reporting the conversations between gamblers and his teammates. Both Jackson and Weaver enjoyed good performances in the 1919 Series, and some of Jackson 's defenders believe that the outfielder may not have completely understood his dealings with the gamblers.

In his seminal study of the Black Sox scandal, Eight Men Out, Eliot Asinof argues that Jackson and his teammates were driven to fix the 1919 Series because they were economically exploited by White Sox owner Charles Comiskey. This interpretation was also essential to director John Sayles's fine film version of Eight Men Out . Such charges of exploitation, however, hardly extend to the career of Pete Rose, who became one of baseball's early lucrative free agents.

In defense of Pete Rose, it is true that he has an addiction. The first step in getting help for an addiction is recognition that one has a problem. Rose has been able to assume some responsibility for his gambling problems, but it is not apparent that he has been completely honest with himself and the public.

Perhaps Rose's confessions merit some forgiveness. But if Rose's qualifications for Cooperstown are going to be reevaluated, it is high time that we also reconsider Joe Jackson's credentials for the Hall of Fame and posthumously lift Buck Weaver's banishment. Rose's aggressive play and accomplishments on the field may justify his enshrinement in the Baseball Hall of Fame, but his personal life and addictions do not bode well for his return to the sport. Could we really trust Pete Rose to manage another team? I wouldn't bet on it.