Asking forgiveness

Pete Rose attempted to apologize for gambling on baseball, but he didn't seem sincere, experts said.

By Rick Maese | Sentinel Staff Writer
Posted January 9, 2004

(ASSOCIATED PRESS)
Jan 9, 2004

It certainly wasn't a tearful apology. Pete Rose was on national television, wiping out what he had adamantly defended as the truth for 14 years. He apologized, and soon credits rolled, and the local news followed.

The baseball great is in limbo, the apology standing as the brief moment in time that will      bridge past and future. Rose's past is marred by gambling and lying; his future is dependent upon forgiveness.

The complicated process is a gauntlet of human resolve. Gambling was easy, lying a bit tougher, apologizing a trying ordeal.

But forgiveness -- what Mark Twain had likened to the scent that a rose leaves, clinging to the heel that crushed it -- is the toughest step of them all.

We can't start with the mercy, though. No one accepts an apology before one is issued. So we'll begin with Thursday night.

Rose, who agreed to a lifetime ban from baseball in 1989 when gambling allegations first surfaced, appeared on ABC PrimeTime Thursday night, divulging details of his new autobiography with reporter Charles Gibson.

"It's time to clean the slate," Rose said. "It's time to take responsibility.

"I understand that I made a mistake, and there's not a damn thing I can do about that mistake. We can rehash it all we want. . . . Baseball doesn't owe me a damn thing. I owe baseball."

During the interview, Rose -- whose book, My Prison Without Bars, also was released Thursday -- never said the words, "I'm sorry," and didn't admit to betting against the Reds or placing bets from his former team's clubhouse.

Stan Walters, a Kentucky-based expert in lying, watched the interview and said Rose failed to exhibit much remorse.

"He was saying what he thought people wanted to hear," he said.

"He was always minimizing his actions," said Walters, whose company trains law-enforcement agencies across the country in interrogation -- from questioning to spotting lies. "If I were interviewing this guy for something, for probation or parole, I'd think he's saying the words that are necessary to get what he wants. He needs this for himself. Is he repentant, sorry about what he's done? I didn't hear it."

Walters said Rose's tone and expressions varied little throughout the interview, and the former player seems to be in denial -- about any sort of gambling addiction and about forensic evidence that suggests a deeper problem than Rose admitted to.

The motives behind apologies typically shed light on the degree of sincerity, Walters said.

"Even when [some people] apologize, they have no empathy for any of the victims," he said. "Saying I'm sorry is just a matter of words. It's not about words, though, it's about, 'What will I get by manipulating my target?' "

Fueled by competitive spirit, sports can be a fertile soil for corruption and cheating. Success is easily quantifiable with statistics, feats and records. Still, the truth becomes tangled as time passes.

Sports psychologist Dr. Richard Lustberg said selective memories lend themselves to forgiveness.

"Reality changes over time," he said. "Long-term memory is not encoded the same as recent memory."

Others are forgiven much more quickly. Kobe Bryant still sells out arenas while he awaits trial on sexual assault. Numerous athletes battle substance-abuse problems and immediately are given second chances by team management and the fan base.

And even coaches are given multiple opportunities at redemption. Last month, George O'Leary landed his first head coaching job in two years -- UCF hired him -- a symbolic pardon of sorts.

Two years ago, O'Leary was forced to resign from the Notre Dame coaching post after one week on the job. He had embellished his academic history and playing history years before, and the lies followed him. But part of his forgiveness appears to be rooted in a sincere remorse.

"I've apologized," he said, "and I've meant it."

Others struggle to leap off of their sport's unofficial blacklist. In 1998, Tim Johnson, then manager of the Toronto Blue Jays, was caught selling his own fabricated history. He said he was a Vietnam veteran and recounted harrowing stories to his players -- none of which were true.

Five years later, Johnson is managing the Yaquis de Obregon in the Mexican Pacific League playoffs. Next spring, he'll again manage an independent pro team in Nebraska.

Tracy Ringolsby, a longtime baseball writer and friend of Johnson's, said the manager is sincerely sorry, but forgiveness has been unfairly withheld.

"If he was a star or a big name, he'd be managing [in the majors] again," said Ringolsby, who covers baseball for Denver's Rocky Mountain News.

In an age of Celebrity Justice exposes, breakdowns on The Oprah Winfrey Show and confessions to Diane Sawyer, the court of public opinion is usually pretty busy.

"There are no rules for forgiveness," said Rev. Todd Lake, the dean of chapel and minister at Baylor University in Waco, Texas.

Lake preaches forgiveness. He watched his community mourn the murder of a Baylor basketball player last summer. He watched shock tear through the campus and the town when the former coach, Dave Bliss, was caught on tape orchestrating a cover-up of NCAA violations and implicating the deceased player in drugs.

Then Lake watched forgiveness -- a communal clemency -- wash over so many. In Waco, forgiveness was a process.

"In the case of Coach Bliss, it was clear that he was trying to avoid responsibility," Lake said. "It was clear he was trying to orchestrate a cover-up and smear Patrick Dennehy's name. To right away say to him, 'I forgive you,' would have been jumping too many steps ahead."

Experts say there are three basic kinds of forgiveness: a communal absolution, a personal blessing from those who've been hurt and a systemic pardon that would allow someone to return to a normal life.

It's important, said one author, to distinguish between forgiveness and reconciliation.

Dr. Frederic Luskin is the director of the Forgiveness Project at Stanford University, the largest research effort ever on the training and measurement of forgiveness intervention.

Luskin said when someone is reconciling a problem, they are understanding it and the motives behind it. When they are forgiving someone for that problem, they're releasing any resentment they've attached to that problem.

"Many people judge the sincerity of the apology," said Luskin, author of the 2002 book, Forgive for Good. "When you're deciding whether someone will be brought back into good graces, you're often looking to see what the person has learned."

For 14 years, Rose trumpeted his innocence. He was told by Major League Baseball that he would not be considered for the Hall of Fame until he issued an apology. His autobiography apparently was to serve as that, but experts said Rose has fallen well short of remorse.

Paul Haagen is a professor of law at Duke University, and he has been surrounded by confessions, admissions of guilt and apologies in his professional career. What he's seen from Rose was not an act of contrition.

"You have to remember that not all confessions are apologies," Haagen said. "Some are bragging; some are simply, 'Hey, I'm tired of this.' Part of the difficulty here is that there is basically no contrition."

Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig reportedly was straightforward with Rose in what was required of him. Rose, though, seems to have taken great lengths to muddle the process.

Experts say he hasn't taken self-responsibility. Lustberg is a sports psychologist who says the narcissism that plagued Rose when he was banished from baseball is spoiling the apology.

"He's saying, 'Look, baseball didn't provide me help with his gambling problem. If I was an alcoholic, it would have been taken care of.' That's a bunch of malarkey," Lustberg said.

The timing and manner of apology are what stings many the most. This week, baseball announced its 2004 class to the Hall of Fame. The news was overshadowed by Rose's own campaign to gain admission.

And rather than schedule a meeting with Selig or hold a news conference, Rose made his confession in the form of a book -- for which he was reportedly paid $1 million in advance.

"As calculating as this whole thing has been shows you what kind of person he is," said Ringolsby, one of many baseball writers who have vowed not to vote Rose into the Hall of Fame. "This was designed for him to pick up $1 million."

Tommy Gioiosa once lived with Rose and often placed bets for sports' all-time hits leader. He was convicted in 1989 on conspiring to distribute cocaine, conspiring to defraud the government and filing a false tax return -- all charges, he said, stretch back to Rose.

Gioiosa served three years in prison and today sells health supplements in Ormond Beach.

He said that for Rose, lying has been easy because the ex-ballplayer is so scared of what the truth means.

"When you take self-responsibility, there's a lot of shame involved," Gioiosa said. "I guess that's why it's taken so much time . . . because of the shame. It's a hard thing to swallow, saying, 'I messed up.' "

Sometimes that probably is true, but for Rose, his popularity has slipped since he came clean. A survey done by the Orlando Sentinel and eight other Tribune Co. newspapers revealed that even if he were eligible, he likely would not be elected into the Hall of Fame by writers.

"Anyone can ask for forgiveness, but they really only control the apology," says Luskin, the forgiveness expert. "Forgiveness is something that is given. You can't just take it."

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