On Tuesday, Major League Baseball commissioner Rob Manfred announced that Pete Rose, MLB’s all-time hits leader, and “Shoeless” Joe Jackson were among the players to be removed from the permanently ineligible list. In Manfred’s view, the “permanent” punishment ends upon a player’s death, and a deceased player can no longer threaten the integrity of the game.
Rose was banned from baseball in 1989 after he admitted to betting on Cincinnati Reds games as a manager and player.
Jackson was barred from baseball during the 1919 Black Sox Scandal when he and seven other players accepted money as part of a plot to throw the World Series against the Reds.
Tuesday’s announcement from Manfred now makes Rose and Jackson eligible for enshrinement in the Baseball Hall of Fame if they can get the required votes from the Veterans Committee (12 out of 16) when it meets again in 2027.
If they do eventually get in, it could — and should — open the doors of the Hall of Fame for another group of players who have been blacklisted over ethical and integrity of the game arguments: those from the steroid era, including Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez and Roger Clemens.
While none of them have officially been banned or placed on the ineligible list, the Hall of Fame voters have made a point of leaving the steroid era’s greatest players out of Cooperstown. However, the players mentioned above — and several others — had Hall of Fame resumes independent of any steroid usage. Many of the arguments against them are based on suspicion.
Their exclusion is polarizing and controversial among baseball fans and sports writers alike.
But suppose the Veterans Committee decides to put Rose and Jackson in. In that case, any argument for keeping out the steroid-era players is illogical, mainly because nothing does more to damage the integrity of the game than players actively betting on games, or players taking money as part of a plot to lose games on purpose.
In Rose’s case, there is no speculation. It is not based on rumors. He admitted to placing the bets. Even more, he agreed to accept the penalty of a permanent ban. There were no secrets. He knew his actions were against the rules.
Jackson’s case is a little more complex because it occurred over 100 years ago, and there has long been a debate about whether he was actively involved in the plot to lose games.
He did accept the money, though. Despite Jackson’s gaudy numbers for the series, there is enough evidence to poke holes in the argument that he was not involved (specifically, the fact that he performed significantly better in low-leverage moments than in high-leverage moments).
Either way, taking the money as part of the plot is a major problem.
Manfred’s argument that a deceased player can no longer hurt the integrity of the game is also badly misplaced. Putting them in the Hall of Fame, whether they are around to enjoy the honor or not, is a black eye for the integrity of the game.
If the Veterans Committee decides those baseball sins can be forgiven, it would be erroneous to exclude the steroid era.
