But He's Just a Kid

© 1/8/2004

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who couldn't focus on anything but the things he liked. He tried, but not very hard, to do better. In the end, though, he could only focus on himself and his interests. As he grew older, but not up, it became apparent that he had three great interests: gambling, baseball, and women. Being who he was, these interests became his life.

At baseball, he had good, but not great, skill. What he lacked in skill, however, he made up for with "determination" and "hustle." He gave the ubiquitous sports cliche one hundred and ten percent effort. He was determined to hit, score, and win more than anyone else did. In the end, the little tyke became quite good at baseball. He hit, and he hit, and he hit. He achieved many of his baseball goals, hitting the most prominent. He was considered a great player by some and, statistically, he was.

Like baseball, he had a single goal with women and, well, he became quite adept at pursuing and achieving his goal. Much to the chagrin of many women in his wake, this boy's pursuit of his goal never ended. Unlike baseball, his game never ended, and another score had to be achieved. Some would call him an over-achiever. Some would call him an arrogant ass. Many of the women he achieved never understood why the game continued but, remember now, this little fellow could only think about himself.

His final focus of attention concerned gambling. Gambling is the process of wagering money on the outcome of an event and, if you choose right, you get more money. Of course, if you choose wrong, you lose the money you wagered. It's all about risk and the chance of scoring. He was good at scoring with his other two interests so he was certain he would be good at this one. Unfortunately, gambling turned out to be something at which this little fellow was not good. He didn't hit; he didn't achieve; and, most importantly, he didn't score.

Now here's the problem. Gambling, which, as it turns out, was this little fellows greatest interest, conflicted with both women and baseball. Women would just leave him and he would find another but baseball was another matter. Because of earlier conflict with gambling, baseball had implemented a rule. It was a simple rule: Never, ever, under any circumstances, bet on a baseball game. The penalty was equally simple: banishment – forever – no return – baseball's death penalty.

The little fellow didn't care. Because he was so good at hitting the ball, he felt he was above the rule. So, he bet, and he bet, and he bet. And baseball found out. And baseball asked him why he broke the rule. And he answered, "I never bet on baseball. I would never do such a horrible thing."

But baseball knew differently and responded: "You're out."

Fourteen years later, the little tyke decided to "come clean." He decided to admit to betting on baseball and his own team. But never did he bet on his own team to lose. "I would never do such a horrible thing," he said. "And now that I've admitted to betting on baseball, I want back in."

And, truly, the little fellow has a following of disciples that feel the he must be let back into the game he dishonored. After all, baseball had and has racists, drug addicts, wife beaters, and alcoholics, some of whom have been honored by baseball with induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Why should this boy be left behind when others are worse? How can betting on the game be worse than seven lifetime bans for drug use?

Simple: without being dogmatic, and without diminishing the other sins, there needs to be honor among those who take on a responsibility. In every major league clubhouse, clearly visible, easily legible, is a sign that says betting on the game is punishable by lifetime banishment. Every player, manager, and trainer sees and understands this rule. Everyday. It never changes.

The little boy now believes that admission of guilt, which some said fourteen years ago would lead to his reinstatement to the game, should do just that. But fourteen years from now, will we find out that he bet on his team to lose as he exposes another lie? Will we find out that he deliberately threw a game because his love for gambling outweighed his love of baseball? Is it even possible for this sixty-three-year-old little boy to understand how his gambling placed in jeopardy the entire game?

Baseball is currently pondering whether to let the all-time hits leader, a fellow named Pete Rose, return to the game. But, to me the answer is clear. He broke the rule. He's out.

Game over.

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