6-25-89 . . . Baseball great Pete Rose, now the manager of the Cincinnati Reds, is in trouble. He’s accused of wagering on baseball games, including some involving his own team. The penalty for so doing is banishment from the game for life. Commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti [1938-1989], formerly the president of Yale University, is investigating the matter and was supposed to hold a hearing tomorrow. But Rose took the initiative by filing a petition for a temporary restraining order (TRO) in a Cincinnati court. He claimed that his interests would be adversely affected if Giamatti were permitted to hold the hearing. The judge agreed, ruling that Giamatti has prejudged the issue of Rose’s guilt. I saw the ruling live on CNN this morning. Although some journalists infer from this that Rose will be acquitted of the wagering charges, they are egregiously mistaken. He has won a skirmish, not the battle—and certainly not the war. A hearing must still be held. Today’s ruling simply puts it off for two weeks. As for the substantive issue, I don’t know what to think. Rose vehemently denies (1) wagering on baseball games, and (2) wagering on Cincinnati Reds baseball games. It would be significant, I suppose, if he denied (2), but he goes further and denies the broader claim. And yet, people have already testified that Rose wagered regularly on major-league baseball games. It’s hard to know what to think, or whom to believe. I do trust Giamatti, if only because he respects and loves baseball and comes from academia. But how can you dismiss the assertions of Charley Hustle, one of the greatest players of all time? If it comes down to who loves the game more, I don’t see how Giamatti can outdo Rose.
The Battle of the Little Bighorn was fought 113 years ago this afternoon. Having just visited the battlefield, the events of that hot June day in Montana loom prominently in my thinking. I wonder about the following, for example: (1) Did [George Armstrong] Custer [1839-1876] have plans to defeat the Indians and ride into Washington, D.C., a national hero, perhaps with designs on the 1880 presidency? (2) When, if at all, did it occur to Custer that he and his detachment were doomed? David and I addressed this question as we stood atop Custer Hill, overlooking the gravestones. We agreed that there must have come a point when Custer realized that all was lost—that he, his relatives, and his loyal but tired troops would spend their last earthly minutes on a forlorn hillside in a godforsaken place. (3) Did Custer shoot himself (or have someone shoot him) in the temple? He had only two wounds when he was found: one in the left temple and one in the left breast. It could very well have been that, in the waning moments of the battle, sensing that his regiment was being annihilated and not wanting to be tortured or to die a painful death at the hands of the Indians, he shot himself in the temple or ordered a soldier to shoot him. We’ll never know, of course. That’s part of what makes the Battle of the Little Bighorn so fascinating. Even David, who has expressed no great love for American history over the years, has gotten caught up in the Custer mystique. He confessed to me that I’ve made him both a Custer buff and a fan of Lewis and Clark. Actually, I’m just the vehicle through which David was introduced to these people and their exploits.
