Phil Mushnick

Phil Mushnick

The time Pete Rose bemoaned his NCAA betting losses

From my outlook — it’s the only one I’ve got — it was downright spooky that Sports Illustrated last week chose this time of year to place Pete Rose on its cover, excerpts from a new book about him within.

It’s NCAA Tournament time, a time that for me brings thoughts of that evening in Philadelphia, standing behind the batting cage with Pete Rose.

It was, I’m pretty sure, 1982, a Friday night game in early April. NBC’s Game of the Week would be the next day in Philadelphia, and NBC guys were driving down and picked me up, as they would pass my house in Jersey.

After cheesesteaks — don’t recall if it was Geno’s or Pat’s — we fastened credentials to our coats and went on the field. We watched Rose, the Phillies’ 41-year-old first baseman, take BP, then swing around the cage, to where we were standing.

Rose was a gabber. It came as small surprise to those who covered him that he later would admit to an on-the-job appreciation of “Mother’s Little Helpers” — amphetamines, speed. And on this night, unsolicited, he engaged us in rat-a-tat conversation.

His chosen topic was startling, dumbfounding: The recently concluded NCAA Basketball Tournament, specifically how missed free throws down the stretch “absolutely killed me.”

Thirty-plus years later, I can’t accurately quote all he said, but that one phrase about how missed free throws late in games “absolutely killed me” remains fixed.

Wednesday, I checked with Tom Merritt, who was an NBC Sports publicist and one of the fellows with us behind the cage. He, too, recalls Rose’s “absolutely killed me,” and how, when Rose walked away, he left us blown away.

We said then what we recall now: Rose’s voluntary friendliness and the topic he unilaterally chose to indiscreetly discuss was weird.

After all, the missed, late free throws he spoke of as “killers” didn’t alter the games’ outcomes. But they did determine the winner of against-the-line bets. Why would he leave us with the clear impression he had bet on college basketball? He didn’t know us from Rin Tin Tin.

I would come to learn “problem” sports gamblers apply their reality to others. They figure every male sports fan in their purview has a bet, making for instant confederation and conversation.

Thus, “Who ya like today?” or “Who ya got, today?” become standard football weekend chat-starters, be it in line at the bagel shop or with bellies to the bar. “Guy talk” depends on the guy.

Anyway, and for what it’s worth, that evening around the batting cage, we were left wide-eyed by Rose’s familiarity with the unfamiliar. We weren’t that surprised, years later, to learn that gambling would block his ultimate home plate — no matter how hard he hustled, no matter how he chose to try to separate the ball from the catcher.

And, also for what it’s worth, the timing of SI’s cover story on Pete Rose — college basketball tourney time — made frozen memories fresh.

Facts won’t get in Mike’s way

Not as if we needed additional proof he doesn’t know what he’s screaming about, but Mike Francesa’s know-it-all Tuesday take on Patrick Reed’s impressive PGA win on Sunday was less loud than it was dishonest and dead-wrong.

On the day word was dropped Francesa’s radio show would be nationally simulcast by FOX Sports 1 or 2, he gifted his new bosses a preview of how he fictionalizes facts, paints himself into a dark corner, then tries to holler himself out of it — transparently disallowing intelligent dissent until he delivers the last, authoritative, megalomaniacal word that the debate is over …
… and in his self-deluded world he remains undefeated!

Reed is a doughy 23-year-old upstart with a load of conditional confidence. On Sunday during the final round, NBC, in a getting-to-know-you, ran tape of his self-assessment. He said he believes himself “one of the top five players in the world,” adding he can beat anyone “if I’m playing the best I can.”

That interview was identified by NBC’s Dan Hicks as having taken place “last night.” In fact, Reed wore a blue shirt when he wore a red one Sunday.

Reed, in the last pairing because he had the lead after the third round, reached 18 with a two-shot lead. The 18th at Doral is a witch, its left side lined by water. Pros routinely double-bogey it.

In fact, before Reed hit, a graphic noted 51 balls had been hit into 18’s water, five in the last three groups. Yikes.

But Reed, who plays a draw — right to left — had the perfect, winning strategy at the perfect time. He would play for bogey, to win by one. He hit an iron off the tee, laid up in front, wedged on then two-putted to win.

Well, Francesa trashed the kid for not hitting driver in order to go for it in two. He then screamed that after wimping out, he then had the gall to boast that he’s a top-5 player. A top-5 guy would have hit driver! Says who? Says Francesa.

If Francesa was ignorant to the fact that in the final round of the 1999 British Open, Frenchman Jan Van de Velde committed an historic blunder when, with a three-stroke lead, he hit driver as the first act in a triple bogey — he would lose in a playoff — he proved it.

Regardless, what Francesa claimed — then screamed — had occurred, was not what had gone down.

The kid had made his “top-5” comment long before his final round began, which is what NBC’s Steve Sands referenced in a post-win interview with Reed. When callers tried to tell Francesa he had his facts wrong, Francesa trashed them, too.

Then, to further support his bogus position, Francesa claimed “other pros” ridiculed Reed’s last-hole decision. Although Francesa didn’t name any of them, it defies logic that any existed. Either way, how would he know?

So when callers first politely expressed logic-based disagreement, Francesa quickly, rudely shouted them down, then off. If FOX Sports doesn’t know his drill by now, we do.

The next day, as if he hadn’t shown his new FOX bosses enough, Francesa, the expert tout, continued his 20-year streak for being colossally wrong. His specialty is selecting heavy favorites that lose, outright. From his throne he declared the Nets (a nine-point road dog) that night would be walloped by the Heat.

By now, even if FOX is unaware or doesn’t care, you know the rest.