Pete Rose, one of the most prolific hitters in MLB history and a member of the all-century team, died on Sept. 30 at the age of 83. The following day, former president Trump reacted to the news via X.

“Major League Baseball should have let him in the Hall of Fame many years ago. Do it now, before his funeral,” Trump said.

Rose was deserving. He was the centerpiece of Cincinnati Reds’ “Big Red Machine,” a 1963 Rookie of the Year and 1973 Most Valuable Player, a 17-time All-Star, a three-time World Series champion, and the MLB all-time leader in games played, at-bats, and hits. 

However, Rose is best remembered for his post-retirement scandal. In 1989, while he was serving as the Reds’ manager, the MLB determined that Rose gambled on Reds games during both his playing and managing careers. Under Major League Baseball rule 21, section D, part 2, Rose became permanently ineligible to participate in professional baseball. 

The two bodies that induct players into the Baseball Hall of Fame, the Baseball Writers’ Association of America and The Veterans Association, have barred players on the permanent ineligible list from entry. Both made the right decision when it comes to Rose.

There are three standard objections to Rose’s exclusion: the MLB profits off of sports betting, Rose’s actions as a manager have no bearing on his playing career, and he only ever wagered that his team would win.

The first two are easily addressed. To the first, the fact that the MLB makes money off of sponsorship deals with sportsbooks changes nothing – players are well-compensated for being able to wager on everything but MLB games. The idea that those with a duty to perform in professional baseball should be disallowed from wagering on professional baseball is common-sensical. To the second point, the documented cases of Rose’s baseball betting began in a season where he played in 119 games for the Cincinnati Reds.

The third is the most common and the most troubling because it fundamentally misunderstands baseball. In baseball, more than every other professional sport, losing is part of the game. For the 2023-24 season, the NBA’s top regular-season winning percentage was the Boston Celtics at 78.04%, the all-time best being 89.02%. In 2023, the NFL’s best regular-season winning percentage was 76.47%, and the all-time mark is 100%. In the MLB, the best regular season winning percentage in 2024 was 60.49%, and the best ever in a 162-game season is a mere 71.6%. A personal stake in winning is just as game-changing as a personal stake in losing because, in certain situations, losing a game is more important than winning one.

Think of a team in the final game of a long road trip. Generally, the manager starts backups in order to get the starters rested for an upcoming home series, especially against a rival. When down 7-0 or worse, managers will routinely pitch subpar relievers so as to not waste their best arms. Consider a recent example where, in a July game this year, Pittsburgh Pirates manager Derek Shelton pulled starting pitcher Paul Skenes after seven innings even though Skenes allowed the opposing Milwaukee Brewers zero hits. Why? Because in instances like these, winning is a bonus. Dropping one mid-season game matters far less than sending a dejected starting nine out to the hometown crowd, exhausting your best pitcher in a doomed comeback attempt, or losing a key player like Paul Skenes to an overuse injury. It’s up to the manager to make these judgments in the interest of his players and his organization over a 162-game season.

Rose, as a manager, had a clear conflict of interest in making these judgments. The game in all its beauty took a backseat to a few thousand dollars. In short, Rose committed an offense against baseball itself. He wasn’t gambling his money against Vegas, he was doing it against the health of his players and the interests of the Cincinnati Reds. President Trump is dead wrong. Regardless of the statistical merit he accrued, Pete Rose’s behavior was completely unbecoming of a baseball player or manager and, as such, undeserving of the Hall of Fame.