Peter Edward Rose died today, September 30, 2024, at 83. In January 2002, I had the opportunity to meet Pete while attending a baseball camp in Fort Myers, Florida. I was there with one of my best friends and we had the chance the have dinner with Pete. It was a memory I will never forget. Long live the HIT KING!
Growing up in Dayton, I was a die-hard Reds fan. Well, truth be told, that was the case except for a few years when I rooted for the arch-enemy Los Angeles Dodgers. My late father had a chance meeting with Dodgers’ manager Tommy Lasorda and the baseball legend signed a restaurant menu for me. This, along with the Big Red Machine being dismantled in late 1978, I was none too keen on the Redlegs. A fact my friend Charlie Rowland reminds me of every year on opening day. But deep down, I was a Reds fan.
So, when Charlie and I had the opportunity to attend a fantasy baseball camp in Fort Myers, Florida, we couldn’t pass it up. The camp was celebrating the 25th anniversary of the 1975 Reds and Red Sox World Series and all the greats were going to be there; Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, George Foster, Joe Morgan, and Tony Perez (who had just been elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame). The Boston Red Sox were well represented by Carlton Fisk, Bernie Carbo, Dick Drago, Jim Rice, and Carl “The Yaz” Yastrzemski.
Somehow when they divided up the fantasy campers, Charlie and I ended up on separate Reds teams. One of the players on Charlie’s squad happened to be a sports agency representative, who was there to be Pete Rose’s bodyman for when he arrived at the camp later in the week. Charlie, being the biggest fan on the planet of Pete Rose I know, seized the opportunity to strike up a friendship.
After a few days of us living out our baseball fantasy and playing with some greats of the game, the biggest stars of the week began showing up at the camp. I had a catch with Brooks Robinson, got batting tips from Jim Rice, and spent some time in the batting cage with George Foster.
One evening as we were getting ready to leave the hotel for dinner, our phone rang and it was the bodyman for Pete Rose. He asked if we wanted to meet the “Hit King.” How is this a question? Just tell us when and where. This was a dream come true for Charlie. He was finally going to meet his childhood hero and I was so happy for him. I, too, was happy to meet him but growing up I was an admirer of Johnny Bench. My parents tell me, for a few years, I thought I was Johnny Bench. I have the audio tape to prove it (see video below).
When we arrived at the hotel restaurant and bar, we found Pete Rose, his bodyman, and a bombshell of a blonde, sitting at a small cocktail table. We introduced ourselves and Pete immediately asked us to sit down and offered to buy us a drink. I’d never seen Charlie speechless until this very moment.
We sat and talked to the “Hit King” about a multitude of baseball-related topics. What was surprising to me was that he knew of my late-father. My dad played amateur baseball in Dayton back in the late 1950′s and early 1960′s and they played against each other a few times. My dad passed up a tryout with the Reds as a pitcher, choosing instead to go to Northwestern University.
One of the most memorable moments of our encounter was when Pete’s “date” got up to use the ladies’ room. We all stood up as she excused herself from the table. As we stood up, Pete said, “It sure paid off getting all those hits.”
The night ended and we left the restaurant walking on air. Pete was kind, generous, and accommodating with the many people who came to our table for an autograph or photo. He was also funny, a bit raunchy, and clearly full of himself. But, after all, he’s the All-time Major League HIT KING. Perhaps one of the most prolific batters to ever swing a bat. Even his red SUV in the hotel parking lot had license plates that read, “Hit King.” There’s the proof!
The next day at camp, my team had advanced to the camp World Series and we got to play on the same field the Minnesota Twins play on during spring training. The finest baseball field I’ve ever had the pleasure to play on. That was the highlight because my team lost the final game. Perhaps it was the former minor league pitcher our Boston opponents had throwing for them. You don’t expect 85 MPH fastballs at fantasy camp. Heck, that could’ve been his change-up for all I know. Because quite candidly, I barely saw the ball when it passed over the plate. It looked like a pea.
After the game, Charlie, Pete’s bodyman, and I went to grab a bite to eat at a nearby Shoney’s. As we were sitting down at the table with our trays of food from the buffet, the bodyman’s cell phone rang and Pete was on the other end. He told us to leave Shoney’s and come meet him for lunch at the same restaurant we had been the night before. We left our food untouched.
When we arrived, Pete was sitting at a large round table with former New York Yankee Joe Pepitone and Mrs. Pepitone. We sat down, ordered food and Pete began holding court. He regaled us with baseball stories, many salacious tales involving groupies, the media, and playing for Sparky Anderson. We also debated whether Ken Griffey Jr. would come to Cincinnati. At that time, in early 2000, this was still an uncertainty. He didn’t think Jr. would want to come to Cincinnati and I respectfully disagreed.
But then Pete surprised me a bit when he said he had called his bodyman earlier during my game to ask how the “big guy” was doing. Yes, Pete Rose asked for an update on our game and me. That was an odd feeling, knowing that Pete had given me a second thought. Maybe he had money riding on the game but I didn’t dare inquire.
After a few hours, we wrapped up lunch and said our goodbyes. Charlie and I again left walking on air. It was the perfect ending to the most amazing week two lifelong friends and lifelong Reds fans could have.
Our time with Pete was surreal. It reminded me of the film Cobb, about baseball legend Ty Cobb.
Tommy Lee Jones plays the Hall of Famer and there’s a scene where Cobb is playing cards with a few friends and the banter was ruckus and intoxicating. It was like that. Coincidentally, the restaurant where we met Pete, which is still there, is called Shoeless Joe’s Sports Café.
Those who know the history of baseball will appreciate that little nugget.
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