Charlie Hustle
On September 12th, I was told I won a VIP package where I would meet a childhood icon, Pete Rose, on September 15th, along with front row center tickets to his show (where he spoke about different stories), a restaurant gift card, a night in a very nice hotel, and a signed baseball, from a radio station that had posted a "like & share" post on Facebook for a chance to win. I can only assume to win, considering the reach of social media, had to be astronomical.
The iconic baseball hero of age 76 is not short on controversy, and many have decided I should be told their opinions when I said I had won the contest. For every record he had accomplished in "America's Pastime", it seemed there was another opinion to represent opposition. When I mentioned I had won, it was like I opened the floodgates on their opinions of a man they did not know, both good and bad. While being respectful, I honestly can't say I could care less, only because they looked more at it from a distance than what it could mean personally to anyone else. I did not go to vindicate their opinions.
As a lifelong Cincinnati Reds fan, his name (along with Johnny Bench) were synonymous with my childhood, which was themed by my passion for the sport, and all my life seemed to be the essence of my being. I had the cards, more gloves than I could use, bats, balls, hats, and anything else I could get my little paws on. The sport represented something it has taken me most of my life to truly understand, and why my passion is still so intense to this day (more on that later).
The Hit King
When I won, I got a "plus one". In the entertainment business, especially in tickets, that means you can bring a guest of your choosing. When I won, it took me a few seconds to know who to ask. I knew I wanted someone who could truly appreciate it. Someone who wouldn't just go because it was a famous person, but a person who had a passion for the sport who would have a truly personal connection to the event and the guest of honor. I asked a friend I have known for about 20 years.
"T-Bob" (his nickname I have dubbed him for years, which I will use to protect him somewhat in this) is a true baseball fan, diehard Reds fan, and Pete Rose fan, which he has a shared passion as I did in childhood. He tells a story about when he was younger, his dad took him every year to Reds games. Baseball was a part of his formative years, and Pete Rose was the ringleader of it all. This would be a "bucket list" item for him.
T-Bob has also been having a rough personal time (which I will not delve into), so he has been working as hard as he can to keep his head above water. I knew this would be his sea of constipation in an ocean of diarrhea.
So I called him on the phone, and it went something like this:
Me: Hey man... are you busy?
TB: Just got off work... what's up?
Me: I won a VIP package to meet and see Pete Rose this weekend.
TB: NO F*CKING WAY!
Me: Yes...
(Then I explain what all I had won.)
Me: ... and I have a "plus one". So... do you want to be my "plus one"?
TB: As long as it isn't Friday, because I have to work late and may have a job to do, I am all in!
At this point, I realize I had no clue what day the event was, so I call to find out.
It was Friday.
I called him back, and we discussed the scenarios and agreed that the only way to make a good decision is to know closer to the time. T-Bob's work schedule is not set, and he works based on the number of jobs that day, with installations being the bigger jobs and repairs being the smaller ones. If we were lucky, he would be off in plenty of time, and I honestly didn't want him to miss it.
His managing days
The Friday comes around, and he tells me it is looking pretty good, but will be a little tight. Mostly repairs that morning, which he says is a good sign because they usually do installs first. I tell him check-in time at the hotel is at 3pm, and I will be there.I get to the hotel room, which was very nice, that had double queen beds that I requested (so that he would have a place to stay), and get settled in. I have 3 hours until the meet and greet, so I have a business call to make, and head to the restaurant to get some food while I wait.
I get to the restaurant, which is a very nice place, only to find they won't be taking orders until 5, which means I wouldn't get food until 5:30ish. I didn't have time for that, as I had an icon to meet.
I get back to the room and T-Bob texts me saying he couldn't make it because they sprung an install on him. I take a shower and rack my brain to figure who I can ask. I make a few calls and no one can go in such a short time. I was going to have to "burn" the extra ticket.
Just when I get to the venue, T-Bob says he is on his way. He hit a snag that he couldn't fix himself and everyone had left the office for the weekend. He was going home to grab a shower and would be there. I had to buy some time.
I decide I couldn't let him miss this, so I allow everyone to pass in front of me in line. This goes on for about 45 minutes. I am at the end on the line and moving closer when he texts me he is there with about 10 minutes to spare before he misses his chance.
He gets up to Pete's seat and tells him a story about Little League where everyone wanted to be number 14, so the manager made everyone 14 to avoid fighting. T-Bob gets his picture while talking to him, and off he goes.
T-Bob and his childhood idol.
I'm next. I assume most people at this point would know what to say, but with everything going on, I never thought about it. I often times in my profession deal with people who have certain degrees of fame, so, to me, I am a bit spoiled in that regard. I know well who I am speaking to and meeting, but I also know they are a person as well. I also realize I have to say something because it's freaking Pete Rose! As I lean down to get in the picture, I tell him it is a true honor to meet him.I don't get star struck often if ever, but what he did next had me there.
He reaches out to shake my hand. His hand which was one half of the two that got him 4256 hits (and numerous other achievements), which makes him the all-time leader in a record that will most likely never be beat. This guy wants to shake my hand!
He seems so happy to meet me!
After we both have our pictures, we wait around for the show looking at Pete's merchandise at the vendor table and have a little small talk, biding our time.
They let everyone into the theater, and our seats are the best in the house: front row center. The only way we could be closer is if we were sitting on stage with him.
I think this was when he was heckling a person going to the bar.
Pete works the stage like a veteran, telling stories of his life on the diamond in a witty, personable fashion. He is not cocky, but sure of himself. We laugh along with his tales of a world most of the crowd, and the world, can only speculate about, while describing them to us in a way that makes us feel like we were there when the events happened. He was conversing with us, and (with the exception of one guy who may have enjoyed the bar one time too many and acted like he had to reply to everything Pete said) we just listened in awe as he regaled about a past we wished we were a part of. This went for around 90 minutes.
My personal favorite story was when he talked about the 9 minute ovation he received when he got hit 4192. The date was September 11, 1985 (and I still remember where I was at the time). He talked about after a few minutes, emotions hit him about all those who were there and helped him along the way, including managers, players, friends, and his dad, who instilled in him the belief that you always play hard and give 100% of yourself.
Very close
(I don't want to write about too many specifics about the show, because if you are a fan, you should just go. I highly recommend it.)
After the show, T-Bob and I are discussing the show while figuring what we want to do next for the evening. We are reminiscing Pete's stories like they are our own. Then T-Bob says something to me I will never forget.
"This is one of the greatest nights of my life."
Knowing what he has had to deal with lately, I knew he needed the excursion, but without actually walking in the man's shoes, one never truly knows. His recent trials and tribulations were cast aside for a night and he was truly able to enjoy himself. For me to know I had the capability to do that for someone who has been a dear friend for that long, is truly an honor. While I have a good idea how it felt for him, how it felt for me to do that for him made me feel like after the year I had, I was still here for a reason.
In one small token, I was able to make him find a happiness he was sorely missing.
The event didn't make me feel same the feeling I got from helping my friend's soul and mental well-being.
From the time I received the winning package, I have mentally tried to understand what the meaning of it all was for me personally.
On November 8, 2016, my dad died. We were not as close as many I sometimes feel a slight jealousy of. I was not raised with him in my life for long periods of time (that is as much my fault as it was anyone else's, to be clear). We spoke a couple of times a year, and when we did speak, it was usually about baseball and the Reds. He would tell me stories about The Big Red Machine Rose was a part of that I was too young to recall. Baseball was in our heritage for the past couple of generations, from my great-grandad, to my grandad, to my dad, to me. I "inherited" my passion from them, because the reality of it was I was not geographically near them much, and phone calls were so expensive that you didn't talk long on the phone.
My dad, Fred
When I went to his funeral, I broke down and cried despite my struggle against it, and I believe I even mentioned the Reds when I spoke. It was hard, however, to say goodbye to someone you felt throughout your life you never had that "real" connection with at the time. Someone you really wanted to connect with, and at the same time, didn't want to. I know this was my dad, and what I was feeling was how I was supposed to feel, but I felt there should've have been more. I was remorseful because everything I had always wanted was now never going to be. There was never going to be that "connection", it seemed, as I have had with my aunt Jean. The fact of the matter is he wasn't that way of "emotionally nurturing" and in kind, I am not either. We have self-imposed walls that make that kind of emotional outpour non-existent. It's just our DNA and our struggle no matter how hard we try to change it.
While taking the whole thing in, I kept thinking about my dad, to the point of fighting tears, knowing how much he would have loved the opportunity to go, and had he been alive, he would've gotten. With every story Pete told, I felt like my dad should've been there, drinking a beer, and listening to a man who he had admired as a player that was one of the greatest players on a team he grew up cheering for.
What is going on with my phone's focus?
Then it dawned on me.
He was there.
Although our connection was not as strong as I would have preferred, my actions for my friend T-Bob were just the thing he would have wanted as well. An act for a friend who truly needed it and appreciated it. While my dad and I always had a hard time with our emotions with each other, this was something I had either learned from him or was ingrained in me from the times we did share together. It was about doing something bigger than yourself. I was taught a final lesson from my dad in humanity and humility.
When I had those few short minutes to tell Pete what an honor it was, I am not sure I was saying the honor was mine, as much as it was mine AND my dad's. This was the full circle closure point I don't feel I received at his funeral, and my whole life, with all the trials and tribulations, the thousands of self-doubt questions, the depression, and the uncertainty, about my relationship with my dad was all taken care of at that point.
God bless Pete Rose.
The Hit King ending the show.
#9Minutes
Until we meet again...
