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Rumblings from Da Unnaground

This is starting to get ridiculous.
I've been to six straight Orioles losses, after starting 2004 with a 2 game winning streak. One can only hope that the natural order restores itself when I take a bite out of the Big Apple this coming Saturday.
It's not like the Orioles are that bad. After 97 games they're 44-53, not great, but not horrible. They've been showing signs of life lately and should hopefully finish the season closer to .500 than they've been in the past four years.
But in the games I haven't witnessed live, they're 42-47. Not too much better.
So that gets me to thinking: what effect do I as a live spectator have on any sporting event? None, in point of fact. But it's fun to ascribe some sort of importance to my habit of spending money to witness live entertainment.
Six games straight, though? I don't recall having a streak like that in my baseball watching career. Once upon a time, it seemed as if the Orioles couldn't lose when I was in attendance. But in the 21st century, it seems like they lose more than they win when I go to the game.
Part of this has to do with the downfall of Baltimore's baseball fortunes in the 21st century. Add to that the fact that I spent two or three years away from the sport entirely (1999-2001), only to come back when the Diamondbacks beat the Yankees in seven games, and you have a hard time sticking to your team, if your team is Baltimore.
2002 was especially rough. After reaching 63-63 late in the season, the Orioles promptly went into free fall, losing 32 of the next 36 games.
2003 was a little better, 4 games in the standings better, as 2002 was four games better than 2001. 2004 seems like more of 2003, except with some more offense. As neat as it is to see Rafael Palmeiro, a Hall of Famer in the making, it' a little rough seeing him in decline as he clearly is this season.
But at least the O's have a bonafide star for the next five plus years in Miguel Tejada. Although his performance this year has been everything a fan could hope, I still feel little connection with him along the lines as I had with Brady Anderson, or Mussina, or Cal, Eddie, or a number of others.
On a side note, Pete Rose wasn't on hand in Cooperstown for Hall of Fame induction weekend, most likely for the first time in the last 15 years. I guess the hullabaloo surrounding his new book, released at the same time as the Hall announced its new inductees, and my trip to the Hall. Is this a sign of remorse which the public at large seems to demand from the Hit King? In theory, the book, which sold quite a few copies (including one to yours truly), was supposed to grease the path for Rose's eventual induction. It failed miserably in that task in large part because the book has a very frank tone, and in all frankness, Rose has zero remorse for what he did.
The book itself is a riot. Rose is a coarse human being, not necessarily a man you want to invite over for dinner, but he spins a good yarn here, there, and almost everywhere else in the book. His memory of events from many years ago is remarkable, including his trips to see the ponies while growing up in Cincinnati.
That factor of remarkable memory makes his admission that he honestly doesn't remember when he started betting on baseball ring false, even if it is true (which I don't know). He was associating with some unsavory characters and losing more money than I've ever earned, which could preoccupy a man somewhat, but the contrast between the haziness of his memory concerning the seminal part of the book (to many readers, anyway), which is betting on baseball, and the crystal clear relation of so many other events does not bear scrutiny. It could be true, but since Rose has as much integrity in the public eye as a common criminal, his word carries no weight, which ultimately scuttles his autobiography as a means of garnering sympathy.
Do I recommend the book, "My Prison Without Bars"? If you want a quick read with some laughs and an all too human main character, sure, give it a look. If you want to come away from the experience with a renewed faith in Pete Rose...well, pick it up, and compare it to his first autobiography, published in 1989, written by Roger Kahn. The second iteration of Rose leaves Kahn, heretofore one of Rose's staunch supporters, hanging out to dry while twisting in the wind.
So what about Rose and the Hall of Fame? He's all over the museum already, and he has a presence in Cooperstown itself, regardless of being officially enshrined by the Baseball Writers Association. He certainly has the career stats to breeze on in, but there's the little matter of gambling on the game, a taboo if ever there was one in professional baseball. people like to trot out names like Shoeless Joe Jackson, who actually played very well in the 1919 Black Sox World Series and whose complicity in throwing the Series has been debated for 85 years now. Shoeless Joe was an illiterate man working for one of the great penny pinchers in Charles Comiskey. Rose is literate enough to read all of the clubhouse injunctions against gambling, human enough to admit to his problem, and callous enough not give a wet damn about it. His place in history is assured. His place in the Hall of Fame...well, right now, he has none, and will probably continue to strut his stuff at Pete Rose Collectibles.
Do I agree with the ban on Rose? There are some really ugly figures already in the Hall of Fame. In fact, I think they need to open up a new wing with 'Scoundrels of the Game', where Rose can rest with others of his ilk. On the whole, however, I don't think the Hall of Fame, a partially independent operation from Major League Baseball, nor does the Baseball Writers Association of America, have the right to restrict superlative baseball performance on the basis of moral issues. Let Rose in. Let Shoeless Joe in. Then take them into a dark alley in the freezing cold and let them do what they will.