CINCINNATI - The investigation was shocking, the revelations jaw-dropping. One of the greatest players of the 70s, one of the greatest of all time, was facing the most serious charges a Major Leaguer could face. Pete Rose had been accused of betting on baseball.
In his first meeting with new commissioner Bart Giamatti, Rose denied the allegations that he bet on baseball. However, Giamatti hired lawyer John M. Dowd to independently investigate the charges. Dowd's investigations unveiled bets Rose made on baseball, including on the Reds team he managed, in 1985-87. Throughout 1987, Dowd claimed that Rose had bet a minimum of $10,000 a day on baseball. Though the report stated plainly that Rose did not bet against the Reds, the findings were still damning.
Rose denied the charges vehematley, refusing to meet Giamatti about them. He filed a lawsuit against the commissioner claiming bias. Then Giamatti moved the trial to federal court, and the two sides sat down for an agreement.
It was the agreement that shocked baseball. On August 24, 1989, Rose agreed to permanent ineligibility from baseball, admitting that there was a "factual reason" for the ban without going as far as admitting that he bet on the game. In return, Giamatti agreed to make no formal finding in regards to the gambling accusations. Also, Rose was allowed to apply for reinstatement once annually.
The effects were immediate and were wide-ranging. In the short-term, Rose was not allowed any association with Major League Baseball, whether as a manager or a behind-the-scenes worker. Long-term, it has meant that baseball's all-time hits leader is ineligible for the Hall of Fame and cannot have his number retired by Cincinnati. Rose has applied for reinstatement four times since his banishment but has been denied.
The investigation and banishment of Rose had its effects on Giamatti, as well. A life-long smoker, Giamatti died of a heart attack nine days after handing down Rose's punishment, a death likely hastened by the stress of the Rose ordeal.
In the years following his banishment, Rose continually denied ever betting on baseball. In recent years, though, he has changed his stance, finally admitting in 2004 that he had bet on baseball and on Reds games. Rose also claimed that he bet on the Reds to win every single night, a point viewed as important, as many detractors claimed that Rose might have managed differently in games he bet on his team to win than in games in which he didn't. Dowd later refuted Rose's claims, saying Rose wouldn't bet on the Reds when certain pitchers were pitching and even suggesting that he might have bet against the Reds for some games.
Despite Rose's admission and subsequent apology, it still remains highly unlikely that he'll ever be reinstated or inducted into the Hall of Fame, something that would have seemed impossible to somebody watching him play in his glory days.
Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
July 27, 1996: Bombing Atlanta
ATLANTA - It was supposed to be a celebration, a time to honor and admire the best athletes in the world, a time for Atlanta to celebrate its status as an Olympic host city. And for the first few days, it was. The Olympics had already produced several memorable moments, from the opening ceremonies to the gymnastics competition. Everybody was having fun and enjoying the games.
And then the bomb went off.
In a way, it was lucky that only two people died on July 27, 1996, when the bomb exploded in the middle of Centennial Olympic Park as people were attending a concert. The bomb was designed to do significant damage, but it was tipped over sometime between its placement and its detonation, limiting its impact; one woman died after being struck by a nail, and a Turkish cameraman died of a heart attack while rushing to cover the explosion. It could have been worse.
A big reason why it wasn't worse was the quick thinking of security guard Richard Jewell. He discovered the bomb, called 911, and moved as many people to safety as he could before it exploded. For his efforts, Jewell was hailed as a hero ... until the FBI declared him a person of interest in the bombing. Though he was never officially charged, Jewell was extensively investigated and was hounded by media and authorities for months after the bombing, before finally being cleared.
After clearing Jewell, the FBI had no more suspects until a year later, when two abortion clinics and a lesbian club were bombed. The similarities between the four bombs led investigators to believe they were made by the same person. The second abortion clinic bombing - at which a police officer was killed - provided the clues needed to name Eric Robert Rudolph as a suspect.
Rudolph promptly disappeared into the southern Appaliachians of his youth and wasn't captured for five years. After his capture, he admitted to all four bombings to which he was tied. He said he bombed the Olympics because of its promotion of worldwide socialism, as evidenced by the fact that "Imagine" was the theme song of the games. He said he wanted to postpone the Olympics and embarrass the United States. At his sentencing, Rudolph read a statement where he apologized only to the victims of the Olympic bombing.
Rudolph's goal was to postpone the games, but he didn't succeed; they continued the next day and finished uninterrupted.
And then the bomb went off.
In a way, it was lucky that only two people died on July 27, 1996, when the bomb exploded in the middle of Centennial Olympic Park as people were attending a concert. The bomb was designed to do significant damage, but it was tipped over sometime between its placement and its detonation, limiting its impact; one woman died after being struck by a nail, and a Turkish cameraman died of a heart attack while rushing to cover the explosion. It could have been worse.
A big reason why it wasn't worse was the quick thinking of security guard Richard Jewell. He discovered the bomb, called 911, and moved as many people to safety as he could before it exploded. For his efforts, Jewell was hailed as a hero ... until the FBI declared him a person of interest in the bombing. Though he was never officially charged, Jewell was extensively investigated and was hounded by media and authorities for months after the bombing, before finally being cleared.
After clearing Jewell, the FBI had no more suspects until a year later, when two abortion clinics and a lesbian club were bombed. The similarities between the four bombs led investigators to believe they were made by the same person. The second abortion clinic bombing - at which a police officer was killed - provided the clues needed to name Eric Robert Rudolph as a suspect.
Rudolph promptly disappeared into the southern Appaliachians of his youth and wasn't captured for five years. After his capture, he admitted to all four bombings to which he was tied. He said he bombed the Olympics because of its promotion of worldwide socialism, as evidenced by the fact that "Imagine" was the theme song of the games. He said he wanted to postpone the Olympics and embarrass the United States. At his sentencing, Rudolph read a statement where he apologized only to the victims of the Olympic bombing.
Rudolph's goal was to postpone the games, but he didn't succeed; they continued the next day and finished uninterrupted.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
June 17, 1994: White Bronco
LOS ANGELES - It was supposed to be New York's day in the sun. That afternoon, New York had thrown a parade for the Rangers, Stanley Cup Champions for the first time in 54 years. That night, in the same building in which the Rangers won their series, the Knicks were playing the Houston Rockets in Game 5 of the finals, looking to take a 3-to-2 lead in the series. It seemed as though the entire sports world was centered on Madison Square Garden in the heart of Manhattan.
As the Knicks and Rockets were in the middle of another low-scoring slugfest, the NBC affiliates covering the game suddenly put the game on split screen, in the lower half of the screen. In the top screen, the predominant image was of a solitary white Ford Bronco, driving slowly up Interstate 405 being pursued by scores of Los Angeles Police cars.
Confusion. Why on earth was the NBA finals being pre-empted by a car chase? Sure, it had been kind of a dull series, but the games had been relatively close, and the Knicks were one of the most prominent teams in the league. You'd think they'd get the night to themselves. It didn't make sense that the networks would show an LA car chase instead.
Then we found out the truth, and we let out a collective gasp: O.J. Simpson was in the Bronco with a gun to his own head.
Suddenly, the game meant nothing.
Suddenly, America was transfixed in the plight of the man who had once been viewed as the best running back in the NFL. He was the poster child for off-field success, one of the first black athletes to receive numerous marketing opportunities, the charasmatic man who was the antithesis of what people hated about the modern athlete.
And now he was a fugitive from justice.
The game was no longer of any importance when put up against this real-life prime-time drama. Viewers were fascinated: why didn't Simpson turn himself in like originally planned? Was he trying to flee? If so, why was the car moving so slowly? Was he really going to kill himself on the LA freeway? We don't want to watch that, do we? We can't stop watching now, can we?
As the chase went on, it became more absurd. Soon, people could be seen lining the freeway, cheering the Bronco while the half-dozen police cars followed closely behind. It seemed odd that people would be cheering and supporting a man accused of double murder, but everything about that day seemed odd.
Nobody knew it then, but that was just the start of the craze. Simpson's surrender and subsequent trial became absolute must-see TV. His acquittal counts as one of this generation's "where were you when" moments (junior high American history class). The car chase qualifies for many, as well, but that answer is easier. They were watching a basketball game. One that the Knicks won 91-84. But nobody remembers that. They just remember the white Bronco.
As the Knicks and Rockets were in the middle of another low-scoring slugfest, the NBC affiliates covering the game suddenly put the game on split screen, in the lower half of the screen. In the top screen, the predominant image was of a solitary white Ford Bronco, driving slowly up Interstate 405 being pursued by scores of Los Angeles Police cars.
Confusion. Why on earth was the NBA finals being pre-empted by a car chase? Sure, it had been kind of a dull series, but the games had been relatively close, and the Knicks were one of the most prominent teams in the league. You'd think they'd get the night to themselves. It didn't make sense that the networks would show an LA car chase instead.
Then we found out the truth, and we let out a collective gasp: O.J. Simpson was in the Bronco with a gun to his own head.
Suddenly, the game meant nothing.
Suddenly, America was transfixed in the plight of the man who had once been viewed as the best running back in the NFL. He was the poster child for off-field success, one of the first black athletes to receive numerous marketing opportunities, the charasmatic man who was the antithesis of what people hated about the modern athlete.
And now he was a fugitive from justice.
The game was no longer of any importance when put up against this real-life prime-time drama. Viewers were fascinated: why didn't Simpson turn himself in like originally planned? Was he trying to flee? If so, why was the car moving so slowly? Was he really going to kill himself on the LA freeway? We don't want to watch that, do we? We can't stop watching now, can we?
As the chase went on, it became more absurd. Soon, people could be seen lining the freeway, cheering the Bronco while the half-dozen police cars followed closely behind. It seemed odd that people would be cheering and supporting a man accused of double murder, but everything about that day seemed odd.
Nobody knew it then, but that was just the start of the craze. Simpson's surrender and subsequent trial became absolute must-see TV. His acquittal counts as one of this generation's "where were you when" moments (junior high American history class). The car chase qualifies for many, as well, but that answer is easier. They were watching a basketball game. One that the Knicks won 91-84. But nobody remembers that. They just remember the white Bronco.
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