River Rat - R.I.P. Pete

"I'd walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball." - Pete Rose

Tonight, I found out about Pete Rose’s death via Facebook. I wasn’t expecting it, and the news hit me harder than I thought it would. There’s something about the finality of it that stirs up all these mixed feelings I’ve had about him for so long. As a kid, he was larger than life to me—Charlie Hustle, the guy who gave everything he had every single game. And yet, there’s always been this shadow hanging over his legacy, this contradiction that’s hard to reconcile.

Growing up, Pete Rose was everything I admired in a baseball player. He wasn’t the biggest or the fastest, but he had heart. That’s what made him special. He played like every game was the last one he’d ever play, and as a kid, that made a huge impression on me. I’d watch him run full speed to first base, dive headfirst into bags, and scrap for every hit like it was the most important thing in the world. And when you’re young, that’s what you think baseball—and maybe life—is all about: hustle, determination, never giving up.

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