Dear Pete Rose
Just because you bet on your own team to win does not mean it's ok, Pete. At least not to me. You should have sucked it up and admitted your gambling a long time ago, Pete, instead of pulling a Clinton and swearing that you did not have a relationship with a bookie. As the song playing on my Winamp right now (coincidentally) says, it's too late for apologies.
I have no tolerance for compulsive gamblers, this stemming from a personal experience with one.
I have no tolerance for sports figures who engage in activities that other people in normal day-to-day jobs would be summarily fired for.
I have no tolerance for a sport that would welcome back people who have shamed it.
Tomorrow Major League Baseball will announce the new inductees into its Hall of Fame. My three favorites on the list, Don Mattingly, Dale Murphy and Goose Gossage, will most likely not get in. If, someday, the Hall of Fame accept Pete Rose as a member but not those three players, I will officially hang up my baseball fan hat. MLB is in the third strike phase for me. One more, they are out. Game over.