The entry below is being cross posted from Marjorie Arons-Barron’s own blog.

Sitting at Fenway Park last week got me to thinking about the mystique of what used to be American’s #1 pastime. The beloved image is of a warm summer night, a gentle breeze blowing the American flag in the direction of home runs. The sport creates a timeless idyll in which , at any moment, a celebrated star can fall and a struggling hitter can become a hero.  There’s no game clock, and nothing matters in the world other than what’s happening in the park.

Many of us played baseball or softball when were kids. We watched heroes like Ted Williams, Jackie Robinson or later vintages.  We learned there were rules to follow, and we respected them, just as we expected others to do.  We relished the history. The biggest steals. The game-saving impossible catches.  The game-winning hits. Over the years, personal stories became part of the lore. Carlton Fisk’s immortal blast. Big Papi’s walk-off victories. Curt Schilling’s bloody sock and the 2004 AL Playoffs. Where were you for the 2007 Mother’s Day Miracle of the Red Sox come-from-behind victory against Baltimore, down 5 nothing going into the bottom of the ninth?

The players and their fans publicly embraced the myth that success would come to those who never quit. This was about life lessons. The perception of fairness, even if not always honored in practice, was the sport’s gold standard.

Now we’re learning another lesson, with the restoration of Pete Rose to the good graces of the MLB and his potential eligibility for the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Rose was banned in 1989 from Major League for betting on games while managing the Cincinnati Reds, breaking the sport’s cardinal rule. Since 1927 (after the 1919 Black Sox scandal when eight Chicago White Sox players were paid by gamblers to throw World Series games), Rule 21(d) has been posted in every clubhouse: “Any player, umpire, or club or league official or employee who bets on any baseball game… shall be declared permanently ineligible.”

Over the years there have been players who cheated by using performance-enhancing drugs. Others exhibited wanton bad character by being vicious domestic abusers.  Some stole an opposing team’s signals. (Alex Cora stole signals in 2017 with the Houston Astros, was fired by the Boston Red Sox in 2018 because of the Houston scandal, took responsibility and was welcomed back to the Red Sox in 2020.)

In most cases punishment was meted out. Sometimes fines or lost standing in upcoming player drafts. Sometimes suspensions. Expressions of remorse were made. But a special place in baseball hell was reserved for players who bet on the game, especially on games in which they were involved and could have altered the outcomes.

Some say Pete Rose’s violation was 35 years ago and that it’s time, especially posthumously, to lift the ban.  He had the most career hits ever. A 1973 NL MVP, he won three World Series rings, three batting titles, and was on the All-Star team 17 times. A great player who, if just the numbers counted, would surely be in Cooperstown. So, is it time to forgive?

Forgiveness requires remorse, accountability, and repentance. For nearly 15 years after his ban from baseball, he repeatedly denied the gambling evidence and monetized his bad boy image, holding events in Las Vegas casinos and showing up at Hall of Fame induction weekend ceremonies to sign baseball memorabilia. He shouldn’t be portrayed as a victim of cancel culture. He voluntarily accepted permanent ineligibility as the price for getting MLB to stop its investigations, which could also have documented his alleged statutory rape of a 13- or 14-year-old girl.

If the purpose of the Hall of Fame is to honor the worthiness of inductees, and Rose committed the most damning ethical violation of all, leaving a lingering cloud on the integrity of the game, are you really comfortable with simply shrugging and wiping the slate clean?  Isn’t it better that his punishment remain a reminder of minimal standards that all players should embrace?  Isn’t this more important now than ever with the proliferation of sports betting?

Allowing Pete Rose back sets a dangerous precedent for past cases and for what it augurs for the future. Does Rose’s reinstatement mean that fundamental rules can eventually be changed, especially for star players? Does this mean that steroid-era shunned players like Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Alex Rodriguez, Jose Canseco, and Mark McGwire will also be welcomed back, if not now then after their deaths?

In the past century, baseball gambling has moved from a scandal to business strategy. Today MLB is not just tolerating gambling, its aggressively monetizing it. Betting promotions are shown during broadcasts and fans are encouraged to bet on every pitch on their mobile devices.

What does this action on Rose signal to future baseball player gamblers? Erasing the firm line opens doors for the appearance and reality of insider leaks and manipulation. There’s evidence already involving players and umpires.

The Leader of the Free World has created a putrescent swamp, and the MLB is contaminated. Trump loves to attend major sporting events and welcome championship teams to the White House. He loves the reflected power he garners from association with sports icons. (Who knows, maybe when he has finished ripping off people with his Trump meme coins, he’ll start a sports betting organization!)

Donald Trump has long advocated Pete Rose’s induction into the Hall of Fame.  In February, Trump posted that he would posthumously pardon Pete Rose, but didn’t say for which offense. He has the power to pardon Rose for his conviction for submitting falsified tax returns in 1990, for which Rose served five months in federal prison. But the president has no direct power over MLB and the HOF and their position on Rose’s gambling.

Enter baseball commissioner Rob Manfred, whose self-interest, like that of other major corporate executives, makes him approach Trump on bended knees. After a White House meeting, he told the President that Rose would be reinstated.

MLB has already changed its online postings in a nod to Trump’s kill order on “diversity” programs, and it is figuring out how new immigration policies will affect the travel of foreign-born players, especially the work visas of those from Cuba and Venezuela. But most important for the league’s bottom line are the evolving media rights landscape contracts dealing with broadcasting and streaming platforms.

MLB has a longstanding antitrust exemption, and it’s allowed to negotiate broadcasting rights collectively. But its privileged legal status still renders it subject to federal scrutiny and potential regulation.

Pete Rose’s Hall of Fame admissibility will ultimately be decided by the Hall’s Classic Baseball Era Committee, which doesn’t convene again until December 2027. If it approves, he could be inducted as part of the Class of 2028.  But just because he has been scratched from the “permanently banned” list does not guarantee his enshrinement.

Caving to the Fan-in-Chief makes Rose’s reinstatement a metaphor not only for cheating in sports, raw transactional politics, and the power of big money gambling, but for the slippery and wanton abandonment of ethical standards in the highest realms of the land.

Donald Trump couldn’t care less about the words of Bart Giamatti the day he banned Pete Rose:“I believe baseball is a beautiful and exciting game, loved by millions … and I believe baseball is an important, enduring American institution. It must assert and aspire to the highest principles — of integrity, of professionalism, of performance, of fair play within its rules.”