I know exactly where Pete Rose’s Hall of Fame plaque should have been hanging — for the past three decades.
You’d have found it in the middle of a powerhouse cluster in the plaque gallery — nestled in between the plaques of Tom Seaver and Reggie Jackson. Among others.
Thousands of baseball fans would have gawked at it by now. I can still imagine them, reading that plaque and trying to comprehend that more than 23,000 men have played in Major League Baseball — and Pete Rose got more hits than any of them.
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But that’s what could have and should have happened, in a What-If World in which the Hit King
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