TV Review: Charlie Hustle and the Matter of Pete Rose

Does Pete Rose belong in the baseball Hall of Fame? That is the question at the heart of HBO’s four-part documentary Charlie Hustle and the Matter of Pete Rose. At this point, Rose’s story is well-known (if you follow sports). Rose was a sure fire, first ballot hall of famer who retired as the game’s all-time hits leader only to be banned in 1989 when an investigation concluded (among other things) that Rose placed more than fifty bets on the team he managed at the time, the Cincinnati Reds. A few years later, and right before Rose was eligible to be put on the Hall of Fame ballot, the organization that runs the Hall determined that any player banned from the sport was ineligible for consideration as a member. And that has been the state of affairs ever since.

The documentary traces Rose’s life, from his childhood in Cincinnati to his days playing for (and leading) his hometown squad to two World Series titles, his later career adding a third ring with the Phillies and his return as player-manager (and ultimately just manager) of the Reds. Interspersed throughout are interviews with people who knew him, played with him (or against him), and the assorted cast of characters who knew the seamier side of his life.

But the hall of fame question looms over the entire enterprise and with it, broader themes of repentance, forgiveness, and punishment. I don’t know that the doc will change many minds. On the one hand, it is completely defensible to argue that the integrity of the game requires a bright line rule that getting caught gambling on a game’s outcome must result in a lifetime ban. After all, if fans think the game is rigged, it is no longer a sport, it is professional wrestling. Supporters point to the 1919 Chicago White Sox scandal as proof of the need for such a draconian penalty, even if it means exiling Hall of Fame players like Shoeless Joe Jackson. Rose bet on baseball while he was the Reds’ manager, therefore, he must be banned.

On the other hand are people who basically say that Rose has been punished enough. That the now 35-year ban from the sport is sufficient punishment for the crime he committed and that he deserves a second chance. They point out he has publicly admitted to gambling on baseball and apologized for doing so. There is also the matter of baseball’s decision to embrace gambling, or at least partner with legal bookmaking companies, as being slightly hypocritical viz a viz their stance on Rose, not to mention the fact that the Hall itself has enshrined at least some former players who were hardly choir boys.

And that is where the documentary is a sort of choose-your-own-adventure. Because Rose is still alive and agreed to be interviewed for, and granted access to, the producers, you can draw your own conclusions about whether you think Rose understands why he was banned, whether he actually feels remorse over what he did, and grapple with who he is as a person in deciding what you think; there is plenty of evidence supporting each side’s position.

After watching all four episodes, I do not think Rose thinks his gambling was that big a deal (he repeats at several points that he only bet on the Reds to win, not lose, as a way of showing he was not trying to fix games) but rather, is angry that because he gambled, he was levied such a stiff penalty. At one point, he says he would have been better off doing drugs or beating his wife because those crimes are treated less severely than gambling. At other points, Rose makes snarky asides about gambling, as when he attends the opening of a casino in Cincinnati and jokes that the Commissioner’s office is probably not going to like it. And he still gambles, albeit far less than he used to and will literally sign baseballs “I BET ON BASEBALL” (while pocketing a fee for the effort).

To the extent Rose has attempted to make amends, thereto he has been his own worst enemy. He privately admitted to then-Commissioner Bud Selig that he had bet on games but then profited off the admission by publishing a book (which was released the day of that year’s Hall of Fame induction ceremony) instead of doing a press conference for free. When the league granted Rose permission to attend a reunion of the 1980 Phillies team that won the World Series, he embarrassed himself by belittling and insulting a female reporter at the event. At other points, the producers catch Rose in simple lies about people he claims not to have known or actions he clearly took; the conclusion one draws is that this is a man who is unwilling to accept that he did something wrong and deflects, obfuscates, or lies to avoid confronting uncomfortable truths.

But if the people who can decide Rose’s fate watch the documentary, they might realize that Rose lives in a sort of living prison that merits parole. Rose is exiled from the thing he loves most. The ban he agreed to prohibits him from entering clubhouses or going out on the field for pre-game rituals like batting practice. His attempts to lobby MLB for reinstatement have failed, but the Commissioner points out that the Hall could simply reverse its decision to keep blacklisted players off the ballot and let Rose receive an up or down vote. The Hall responds that if MLB lifted its ban, Rose could be considered for membership. It is Kafka-esque, to say the least.

Meanwhile, the player whose signature move was sliding head first into a base now shuffles along, limping noticeably. The million dollar smile that once hawked after shave and frozen dinners now has gaping holes where teeth no longer exist. The shock of brown hair that would fly back as his batting helmet flew off has thinned considerably and is usually hidden under an ill-fitting Reds cap. Yes, he is profane and inappropriate, at one point using curse words when addressing a young boy who looked no older than 12, at another, commenting on a friend’s wife’s breasts, but there is something sad and pathetic watching Rose sit in a salon chair getting his hair dyed or doing Cameo greetings because he needs the money. If Bart Giamatti and his successors wanted to punish Rose, they could not have done a better job.

The once vibrant man who played the game at full speed every day is now a shell of who he once was. He is 83, a withered old man who will not change. For those expecting some additional, and perhaps more convincing show of contrition, it will not come. Indeed, when discussing his plea deal on tax evasion that netted him a five month prison stint, Rose admits telling the judge he sought counseling for his gambling addiction solely to garner sympathy and a lighter sentence. In the final minutes of the documentary, Rose appears embittered but also resigned to the fact that he may never make it to Cooperstown, whether he understand why, remains a mystery.

My Favorite Columbo Episode

“Logic,” Col. Lyle Rumford intones to a cadet under his charge, “is the battlefield of adulthood.” The year is 1974 and Rumford has a problem. With the country’s involvement in Vietnam winding down, “nobody wants to play soldier anymore,” William Haynes, chairman of the board at Haynes Military Academy, where Rumford serves as commandant, tells him. The proof, Haynes points out, is in the school’s enrollment, which hovers at 1,100 even though the campus can accommodate more than five times that number. To solve this problem, Haynes, with the support of the board of trustees, plans to convert the single-sex military academy into a co-educational junior college. For Rumford, this not only means the loss of his job but, in his mind, another sign of the nation’s military and moral decline. With a final vote on the conversion in the offing, Rumford is prepared to take extreme measures – murdering Mr. William Haynes.

If there is one Columbo episode that explains the lieutenant’s genius (not to mention the idiosyncratic way the show tells its stories), Dawn’s Early Light is it. Watching Columbo for the first time can be a bit disorienting. Unlike most crime procedurals on TV which focus on who committed a murder, Columbo focuses on how a murder is committed, as the rumpled detective utilizes his observational skills and deductive reasoning to solve the case. And in Dawn’s, Columbo uses the power of logic against a man who worships it.

Like many Columbo villains, Rumford thinks he has planned the perfect murder. First, he tampers with an artillery shell that will be fired from a cannon as part of the Academy’s Founder’s Day celebration, removing the blank powder charge and replacing it with a powerful plastic explosive. Next, Rumford stuffs a cleaning rag used to polish the cannon down its barrel, which will result in a backfire when the shell is discharged, killing Haynes. With the trap set, all Rumford needs to do is wait for Haynes’s arrival on campus. The two get into an argument about the school’s pending changeover and, (as Rumford surely predicted) Haynes asserts his power over Rumford by deciding he, Haynes, and not Rumford’s second in command, Captain Loomis, will preside over the day’s events, including firing the cannon. Minutes later, Haynes is dead.

But setting up Haynes is only half the plan. Rumford also knows the police will come out to investigate what caused the explosion and he thinks he has that figured out too. The cannon is a World War I relic used every day so the logical conclusion will be that the misfire was caused by the cannon’s age. But Rumford has a fallback if that does not satisfy the police in the form of a patsy – Cadet Roy Springer. Springer, you see, is a troublemaker with two suspensions and a long list of demerits on his record, but, not coincidentally, is the cadet responsible for servicing the cannon, a job Rumford gave him. If the police figure out the barrel was clogged and Springer tries to deny it, Rumford will point to his past history of bad behavior as evidence that he carelessly left the rag in the barrel, resulting in Haynes’s inadvertent demise. The police, left deciding between the words of a malcontented student and an upstanding military commandant will surely side with the latter, Rumford assumes.  

In the wake of the explosion, Rumford’s meticulous planning seems to work. Police officers mill about the parade grounds, disinterested in doing any work; one even tries to console the Colonel, telling him not to blame himself because the old cannon just gave out. So far, so good. But one variable Rumford did not account for was the presence of Lieutenant Columbo, who applies his own version of logic to every crime scene he encounters. Columbo is rarely the first officer on scene, which ends up working to his advantage. The cops who greet him provide a preliminary assessment of what they think happened, which almost always lines up with the explanation the killer hopes for, and that gives Columbo the jumping off point to begin his own analysis. Here, they have quickly settled on the “gun gave out” theory, but Columbo is never willing to accept things at face value. While everyone else is eager to wrap things up and go home, Columbo paces the parade grounds, locating a piece of thread lodged in a broken piece of the barrel and a charred piece of the cleaning rag that had been placed in the barrel. He also overhears an offhand remark by an officer that the blast was heard in a town eight miles away. Taken separately, these clues may not mean much, but with Columbo, they become puzzle pieces he tries to fit in their right place.

These little bits of information were there for all to see yet Columbo was the only one who noticed them. Once in hand, Columbo can test the “cannon blew up” theory by speaking to Col. Rumford. Rumford, who had mistaken Columbo for a trespasser upon first seeing him, is caught off guard when Columbo questions him during an impromptu memorial service in the chapel. First, Columbo locks Rumford into important testimony, confirming with him that the artillery charges the Academy uses are “blank,” made up of sodium nitrate and cotton wadding. He then gets Rumford to identify the cleaning rag. By doing so, the “cannon gave out” theory is gone. The remnants Columbo discovered are inconsistent with the material used for blank charges and the char on the rag confirms it was in the barrel when it was fired. Moreover, Rumford’s description of the material in a blank charge will also come in handy later.

But Rumford is not concerned. When Columbo asks who is responsible for cleaning the cannon, Rumford hands up Roy Springer, demerits and all, on a platter. And, in Rumford’s mind, this should be the end of it, even after Columbo speaks with Springer and accepts Roy’s denial that he left the rag in the cannon. Columbo tells Rumford that Roy immediately identified the rag, something the perpetrator would not have done. Rumford parries with his vaunted logic – Springer was in charge of cleaning the cannon, the rag was found in the barrel, and Springer is a poor-performing cadet, ipso facto, he is to blame.

But that does not satisfy our wily lieutenant. Restless, he awakens at three o’clock in the morning and calls the officer who mentioned the blast being heard so far away. Why Columbo wonders, if the cannon is fired every day (another fact he picked up in his conversation with Rumford) has no one ever complained about the noise? Irritated, the sleepy officer tells Columbo it is because the cannon never blew up before. While that might satisfy others, Columbo decides to send material from the cannon to a ballistics lab and sure enough, the lab confirms the presence of C-4, a powerful plastic explosive.

And this is the pivot point for the episode. Applying logic, Columbo first ruled out the cannon misfire being due to age because he found the cleaning rag in it, which Rumford confirmed would have caused the cannon to backfire. He then ruled out the rag’s placement in the barrel being an accident because the artillery shell itself (which Rumford also told him should have been a “blank” charge) was tampered with. Using this basic form of deductive reasoning, Columbo now knows he has a murder on his hands caused by someone doctoring the artillery shell and stuffing a cleaning rag down the barrel of the cannon. He knows how the murder was committed, but he now needs to figure out who committed it by focusing on the basics of police work - motive, means, and opportunity.

Columbo shares his findings with Rumford, and with them, his conclusion that Haynes’s death was no mere accident, but murder, “plain and simple.” This is the moment you see in many Columbo episodes. The killer, initially dismissive of Columbo based on his shabby appearance, perceived dimwittedness, and seeming focus on irrelevant details, suddenly realizes they underestimated him. He is not the bumbling fool they initially took him to be, but a dogged investigator who methodically gets to the truth. It is an experience Columbo himself described in the show’s very first episode. There, another well-organized killer thought he had covered all his bases but Columbo observed that the people he captures are not hardened criminals and have no prior experience in committing a murder, much less covering one up. They don’t realize the mistakes they make, but Columbo sees them almost immediately because he is an expert at investigating murders and they are amateurs at committing them.

Springer, who Columbo already saw as a weak suspect, falls off the list entirely when Columbo learns that Roy wasn’t even on campus the night before Founder’s Day. Even if Roy thought Rumford and not Haynes would oversee the Founder’s Day celebration, and Roy wanted to kill Rumford for being such a flaming jerk (motive), he would have needed access to plastic explosives and the knowledge of how to use them (means). Even if both of those things were true, Roy lacked opportunity to tamper with the shell because he left school to see his girlfriend.  

Instead, Columbo sets his sights squarely on Rumford, where a much more logical story falls into place. Start with motive. Another variable Rumford did not account for was what Haynes would bring with him to the Academy. When the cops search Haynes’s car, they discover a blueprint showing plans for a gymnasium. At first, Columbo is unsure what to make of it (it’s the third page of a three page blueprint, but the other two pages are missing). Even more curious is when Columbo is told by a cadet named Morgan that the existing gym is only seven years old. He finally connects the dots when he realizes the new gym has no urinals, it is designed for women. Coupling that information with his observation at the dining hall (where he supped with Rumford) that many tables were empty and Rumford telling Columbo enrollment was down, Columbo realizes that a plan was afoot to admit women. When Columbo asks about this, not only does Rumford confirm Haynes’s plan, but mentions that the school would convert from a military academy to a junior college. Although Rumford dismisses the idea that the plan would have been implemented, when Columbo presses, asking whether the board will tell him the plan was rejected, Rumford deflates, “you’ll do what you need to do” he moans, as Columbo gives a knowing look. After all, Columbo has spent enough time with Rumford to know the Colonel is a serious military man who believes the school molds the next generation of soldiers who will defend our country. Killing a man who wants to end that role is an obvious motive.

But what of means? Here again, Rumford is nothing but helpful. Columbo locks in a statement from Rumford, who agrees with Columbo that he (Rumford) is an expert in explosives. More importantly (and you can see Rumford squirm when he is asked) Columbo wants to know who has access to the arms room on campus where the cannon shells were kept. As it turns out, only three people have keys to that room – the cadet in charge of cleaning the cannon, the officer of the day, and Rumford himself, who confirms no one could have taken his keys. In other words, Rumford knows how to use plastic explosive and had access to the room where the shells were kept. Check and check in the “means” department.

Which just leaves opportunity. Columbo is helped by something we see over and over on the show: the killer cannot help but be who they are. Normally, it is a know-it-all who thinks they’ve outsmarted Columbo, but here, Rumford’s undoing is being a stickler for Academy rules. In the early morning hour when Rumford stuffed the rag in the cannon, he noticed a large jug of alcoholic cider dangling out the window of a bathroom in one of the dormitories, a clear violation of the school’s code. After Haynes is killed and while Columbo and Rumford are talking, Rumford interrupts their conversation to give Loomis a dressing down over the presence of the cider jug in the dorm where Loomis stays and directs him to investigate things tout suite. Rumford harangues Loomis throughout the episode for failing to apprehend the culprits to the point where the two do a surprise inspection in the middle of the night hoping to find the verboten hooch.

When the search comes up empty, the boys (including Springer and Morgan) do not understand how their contraband was not discovered. As it turns out, they have Columbo to thank. Although Loomis was hapless, Columbo cracked the case in about 10 seconds when he noticed some debris in one of the sinks in the dorm bathroom. Looking up, he realized the cider was hidden in an air duct in the ceiling. And this is where another signature Columbo move pays off. The lieutenant reads people well and he rarely passes judgment. He knows petty criminals and misdemeanants often make good informants just as well as military cadets who skirt the rules. Once Columbo assures the boys he is not going to turn them in, he asks them to tell him everything about the jug – who was responsible for it, when they hung it out the window, when it was pulled back in; once they share this information, the final puzzle piece snaps into place.

The boys tell Columbo the first time they hung the jug out was the night before Founder’s Day and it was removed before reveille the following morning at 6:30. This time frame allows Columbo to corner Rumford once and for all. Loomis goads Rumford into meeting him on the parade grounds under the pretext of having cracked the cider mystery. When Rumford sees the offending jug dangling out that same bathroom window, he order Loomis to bring the cadets out to be interrogated. But Rumford has walked into Columbo’s trap. As Rumford starts questioning the boys, Columbo interrupts to ask Rumford when he first saw the jug. Rumford lies, saying it was a few days before Founder’s Day. If that is the case, Columbo wonders, why did Rumford, who runs such a tight ship, wait all that time before asking Loomis to investigate? Rumford dodges, suggesting it might have been a different day, but Columbo is having none of it. The cadets (clearly on Columbo’s side) confirm that the jug was first put out the night before Founder’s Day and brought in early the next morning. Given this evidence, and Rumford’s prior statement that he had been in a staff meeting that night until 10 pm and then retired to his quarters and slept until reveille, Columbo points out that Rumford’s story is a lie. After all, even if Rumford had walked the parade grounds after the staff meeting it would have been too dark to see the jug and he could not have seen it after he woke up because Roy had already taken it down. No, Columbo says, the only time the jug could have been visible is in the early morning light right before Roy plucked it out of the window.

Check mate. And unlike other Columbo episodes where the lieutenant resorts to gimmickry to get a confession or incontrovertible evidence of guilt, Dawn’s is pure deductive reasoning, applying the facts to the evidence at hand in order to reach the logical conclusion. It is no surprise then that Rumford grudgingly acknowledges Columbo’s skill, while being unapologetic for the crime he committed. Two men met on the battlefield of adulthood, and it was a rout in Columbo’s favor.