Good news, Mr. Clemens, Mr. Bonds, Mr. ARod... the Hall of Fame will accept you. But first, you must die

I loathed Pete Rose as a player, hated him as a manager, disliked him as a codger. The sight of his hunched-over frame, the jowls, the gnome face - old age was not kind. When Rose died last September, I recall being surprised by a sense of sadness for the man, who'd been banned for life from probably the only thing he'd ever loved.

I was particularly struck by the last paragraph in the New York Times obit:

“My actions, which I thought were benign, call the integrity of the game into question,” Rose wrote in “My Prison Without Bars.” “And there’s no excuse for that, but there’s also no reason to punish me forever.” 

Listen: Yank fans have achieved a cherished reputation as rage-filled vessels of bile - haters of anything and anyone who gets in our way. We're particularly proud to have despised Curt Schilling long before it became fashionable. And let's face it: While managing the Reds, Rose bet on games, ignoring the first rule of the sport. He deserved to be punished. 

But but BUT... we live in a time when pregame shows tout 2-for-1 parlays, prompting bets on everything from the opening kickoff to the final free throw.  

That's why yesterday's news - that the great and magnanimous lord of baseball, Rob Manafort, has dropped the lifetime ban on Pete Rose, allowing "Charlie Hustle" to be considered for the Hall - leaves me wanting to drive to Cooperstown and puke on the gates of Doubleday Field. 

Now that Rose is dead, MLB can honor - and cash in on - his Name, Image and Likeness - the Three Horsemen of the Modern Apocalypse. What a scam. This isn't just about the MLB Hall of Fame. It's about the Hypocrisy Hall of Fame. 

And there it is, folks: The future for Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez and all the others who couldn't stand up to world scrutiny. 

Just die, and all shall be forgiven. 

I've fantasized buying a storefront in Cooperstown and opening The People's Hall. In its first year, we'd induct Rose, Bonds, Clemens and Arod. Then would come Rafael Palmeiro, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Thurman Munson and - justice at last! - Roger Maris. I gotta believe that our ceremonies would rival - maybe even dwarf - theirs.

We would not place judgments on athletes, who often failed in the categories of grace and morality. I'm thinking Ty Cobb, Ted Williams, Babe Ruth and all the others whose dirty laundry, had they played in the modern era, would have been exposed to the world. (Hey, anybody seen Wander Franco lately? )  

So, baseball has forgiven Pete Rose, eh? How bighearted! How benevolent! To wait eight months after his death, then claim all is okay. Nah. Not okay. 

(Final note: Last night, I knew the Yankees were cooked after the first inning, when every batter nearly homered, and they came up with nothing. Glad I went to bed.) 

(Final note 2: After re-reading this, I looked it up: Wander Franco's case goes to trial later this year. He could get 20 years for sex abuse and trafficking. The Rays are on the hook for $182 million. He won't be inducted into my People's Hall.)