As the Cincinnati Reds prepare to honor Pete Rose on May 14, 40 years after he passed Ty Cobb as baseball’s all-time hits leader, fans and former teammates alike are reflecting on a legacy that stretches far beyond headfirst slides and record-breaking stats. While his name still stirs controversy due to the lifetime ban for gambling, the full measure of Rose’s impact—particularly within the clubhouse—reveals a far deeper narrative. Known as “Charlie Hustle,” Rose not only brought a fiery competitiveness to the field, but also helped unify a Big Red Machine clubhouse at a time when racial and cultural divisions were still prevalent across baseball. Hall of Famers Johnny Bench and Tony Perez credit Rose, along with Joe Morgan and themselves, for fostering a “no cliques” atmosphere in Cincinnati, unlike the divided clubhouses of many other contending teams in the 1970s.

Rose’s unique journey into leadership started under strain. When he debuted in 1963, he was snubbed by many of the team’s white veterans after replacing a fan favorite at second base. Rather than isolate, Rose bonded with the Black players—Frank Robinson, Vada Pinson, and Leo Cardenas—who mentored and embraced him when others wouldn’t. This early experience of bridging racial divides shaped his approach for the rest of his career. As Perez put it, Rose “never cared what color you was,” and that perspective carried over when he became a team leader. By the time he was the face of the Reds’ championship teams in the mid-1970s, his egalitarian view had taken root across the roster. Players of all backgrounds credit Rose for creating an inclusive, tight-knit clubhouse built on mutual respect and a shared desire to win.

Longtime broadcaster Marty Brennaman, who became close to Rose and Morgan, emphasized how genuine that dynamic was. Rose didn’t just lead his own team—he helped young players across the league, regardless of uniform, sometimes drawing criticism from his own dugout. And the influence extended to future managers like Terry Francona, who credits Rose for teaching him the value of team unity and equality. To Francona, Rose embodied the ultimate teammate—one who didn’t care about your background, only that you wore the same uniform.

​​Though his banishment from the game remains a permanent blemish in the eyes of MLB’s top brass, Rose’s teammates and peers often choose to focus on the man who was a pioneer in a different way: one who brought people together, played the game with passion, and quietly redefined what clubhouse leadership could look like. In a sport often remembered for its statistics and scandals, Pete Rose’s legacy—at least within the hearts of those who played beside him—may ultimately be defined by how he treated people. As Francona said, “That’s how I choose to remember him.”
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​Should Pete Rose Be in the Hall of Fame? Baseball Legends Speak Out
Pete Rose’s name has always ignited passionate debate — a generational lightning rod for the intersection of greatness and accountability. Now, with MLB’s recent decision to remove Rose posthumously from its permanently ineligible list, his Hall of Fame eligibility has sparked an unprecedented moment of reckoning in baseball. For the first time since 1989, Cooperstown is no longer off-limits — at least in theory. The Athletic spoke with 12 Hall of Famers from across eras and roles to gauge how the game’s immortals are processing this shift. Their responses reveal just how layered, complex, and unresolved the issue remains.

Reggie Jackson gave an emphatic yes. To him, Rose’s playing credentials are unquestionable — and so are the flaws that must be acknowledged. "Put them in the Hall of Fame," he said of both Rose and steroid-era stars. “Tell their stories. Just tell the truth.” John Smoltz echoed that sentiment, pointing out the Hall already includes individuals with criminal records. “There’s no suspension now. He should be in.”

But Jim Palmer painted a different portrait — one of disappointment and missed opportunities. Palmer believes Rose’s path to redemption was within reach long ago — if only he’d shown contrition. “If you love the game that much, you grovel,” Palmer said. “He didn’t.” Mike Schmidt, Rose’s longtime teammate and friend, sees both sides. He was once among Rose’s loudest advocates, but now admits: “There will always be a cloud.” Schmidt acknowledged Rose’s greatness while lamenting the lack of remorse that continues to divide opinion. “The Hall vote will always be split — 50/50,” he predicted.

Some offered more personal recollections. Jim Kaat, another teammate, recalled interviewing Rose during the betting scandal’s earliest days. He remembered Rose’s denial — and eventual reversal — as self-sabotage that eroded trust. While Kaat believes Rose’s on-field performance is Hall-worthy, he remains torn. “Do you just vote based on the field? Then he’s a no-brainer. But what about others, like Dale Murphy, who played with honor?”

Tony La Russa voiced the views of many old-school Hall of Famers who remain unforgiving. He cited legends like Musial, Gibson, and Brock, who felt betrayed by Rose’s gambling and dishonesty. Jim Leyland and Pat Gillick struck similarly cautious tones. “It’s a tough subject,” Gillick said. “Character matters.” Bill Mazeroski, with a chuckle, said he’d vote Rose in — but “not right away.”

Others showed more warmth. Andre Dawson, a personal friend of Rose, described the news as “long overdue,” lamenting that Rose didn’t live to see this door reopen. Tony Pérez, a beloved Big Red Machine teammate, spoke with a mix of affection and heartbreak. “He paid the price. He was hurt. Maybe he didn’t show it, but I know he was.”

​​​In the end, what these 12 voices make clear is this: Pete Rose is baseball’s most complicated icon. His achievements belong in bronze, his story in full. Whether that earns him a plaque in Cooperstown or not remains up to the 16 members of the Classic Baseball Era Committee in 2027. But if this chorus of Hall of Famers proves anything, it’s that redemption and legacy are still being written — even after death.