Beyond the Byline: If you’re riding with Pete Rose, make sure the A/C is on

In October of 2001, I was given the task of riding in a limousine to pick up Pete Rose in Philadelphia and bring him to a Make-A-Wish Foundation of Northeastern Pennsylvania benefit dinner.

Pete was the featured speaker at the event held at what is now called the Mohegan Sun Arena at Casey Plaza.

I was excited about meeting Pete and talk baseball with him. Yeah, his sins against baseball are well-documented, but that issue aside, Pete was still the greatest hitter in Major League Baseball history.

He still is.

Rose played 24 years, played 3,562 games, scored 2,165 runs, and got 4,256 hits. He was known as “Charlie Hustle,” never taking a second off when he was between the white lines.

Considering only his time as a player, there has been no greater role model than Rose, who always gave 100 percent every day, on every play.

So, we arrived early at the airport and I went inside to meet Rose. When he arrived, we shook hands and got in the back seat of the limo. Everything was fine for about a half hour — until the car’s air conditioning went out.

For early October, it was a hot day and we soon felt it in the car. Rose, to say the least, did not appreciate this mechanical malfunction.

Let’s just say Rose was upset and he let me know. He could not believe we would provide such an inadequate vehicle for him. The minutes went by slowly and the longer the problem lasted, the more upset Rose became.

I was nervous, as you would expect. I couldn’t speak.

And then, the air conditioning came back on and the car cooled off.

So did Pete.

We began to talk about baseball. I told him about my dad’s love for the game and how he co-founded the Little League in my hometown and that he was a disabled veteran. Pete liked hearing that.

Pete asked me if my dad was with us, what would he ask? I told him my dad would want to know what it was that made Rose such a prolific hitter.

Rose was quick to answer. He pointed to his eyes and then to his hand — eye-hand coordination, he said, was the key.

“I knew what the pitch was as soon as it left the pitcher’s hand,” he told me. “So I adjusted immediately and waited on the ball.”

I found that fascinating. My dad would always tell me that “you can’t hit what you can’t see.” Pete laughed, noting that there was a bit more involved — something about reflex reaction and timing.

I was relieved that we had reached a resolve to the A/C issue. Pete was much more personable.

Pete then asked me what I was holding on my lap. I told him it was a stack of about 100 photos of him that would be used at a pre-dinner mixer for him to sign for people who paid a little extra for their tickets.

Pete agreed to sign them, one by one because he knew the mission of Make-A-Wish was admirable.

When we arrived at the venue, Pete asked for 10 minutes to freshen up and when he returned, he sat at a table an greeted every person coming through. He chatted, he signed, he posed for picture. Everybody enjoyed their time with Pete.

And then Pete delivered a very informative, candid speech before a packed house in the arena.

The dinner was held over the ice at the arena, making it very cool in the room.

And I was sure that we took a different limo back to the airport.