I went to Cincinnati, Ohio two weekends ago to see a baseball game. So did 42,431 others. That kind of turnout there is rather unusual. Yes, the high-flying Los Angeles Dodgers were in town to take on the Reds. But quality baseball alone has not been enticing enough to lure fans to Great American Ballpark. Since the team’s last World Series in 1990, the Reds have routinely been at the bottom of baseball in that measure, and attendance is down even further the last few years. In 2017, they sit thirteenth out of fifteen National League teams, averaging only a little over 23,000 a game. A Reds game these days is hardly the place to be seen. Besides, on this day, June 17, 2017, it was nearly 90 degrees. The Reds were mired in last place, coming off a string of dismal loses. Father’s Day was the next day. There were plenty of other places to be.
But Cincinnatians weren’t at the ballpark to see the Reds. They came to see Pete Rose. On this hot Saturday afternoon, the Reds revealed their new statue of Major League Baseball’s all-time leader in hits, captain of two Reds championship teams, and native Cincinnatian. Rose’s statue is cast in the heroic pose of sliding headfirst into second base. It is placed directly in front of the ballpark’s main gate so that the words “Great American” hover directly above it (though the stadium is nominally in recognition of an insurance company). Reds fans responded enthusiastically, completely, and uncomplicatedly in celebration of the local hero.
I came to the ballpark to see Pete Rose, too, although with entirely different emotions. Continue reading