They met.

They talked.
They are both keeping silent until after the end of the calendar year.

Two men.

The current commissioner of Major League Baseball Robert Manfred and Peter Edward Rose, a man banished by baseball for betting on the game.

Rose, MLB’s all-time hits leader, was suspended for life during the 1989 season by then-commissioner Bart Giamatti after a long investigaion determined that he had bet on baseball games while he was managing the Reds. Rose later admitted that he did bet but not on or against the Reds. Like Marley‘s ghost in Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” he admitted his wrongdoings.

The two men met in Manfred’s MLB office in New York, along with Rose’s representatives regarding Rose’s application for reinstatment. Manfred told Rose that he will give a decision by the end of the year and until then, both parties have agreed to refrain from any further comment.

Like a child waiting for Christmas, Pete Rose sits and waits. He’s not getting any younger. He’s suffered enough and it’s tome for baseball to move on. He deserves the Hall of Fame, no matter what anyone says about what took place and he did admit wrong-doing on his part. Peter Edward Rose deserves to be considered for Cooperstown, plain and simple. Worse things have been done by better men. Rose needs the Hall of Fame and the Hall of Fame needs Rose, it’s that simple.

Pete Rose needs to be in the Hall of Fame while Pete Rose is still on this Earth and can appreciate it, not after he’s dead and in a casket with Johnny Bench and Joe Morgan giving eulogies over him.

Two men met in a New York City office and talked. One will not know his fate until the end of the year. By then, Christmas will have come and gone and all the gifts would have been opened and the wrapping paper and boxes thrown away. Pete Rose, like Marley, wears his chains, the chains he forged, link by link, yard by yard. Peter Edward Rose is hoping that the commissioner will be Santa Claus and not the Grinch.

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