As originally aired on the Rochester Press Box
They were both born into athletic greatness. In places separated by 6800 miles. Each with its own set of trappings.
Pete Rose carved out a baseball career that began with the Geneva Redlegs in 1960. Twenty-six years and four thousand, 256 hits later, Rose left the playing field as the major league leader in career hits, singles, games played, at-bats, and in a statistic he invented, wins participated in. That told you all you needed to know.
But pure greatness on the baseball field failed to translate into greatness off the field. He agreed to a permanent ban from the game for betting on baseball games when he managed the Cincinnati Reds. It is the one thing you cannot do. A throwback to the Chicago Black Sox scandal from 1919. The rule is still in effect. Pete’s passing at the age of 83 last week was punctuated by praise for his hustle and determination. But framed for having left a complex legacy. And the comment most often heard? He was his own worst enemy.
A day earlier, Dikembe Mutombo succumbed to brain cancer at the age of 58. Mutombo was born in the Republic of the Congo. Where opportunities to succeed were more difficult to come by. He was studying to become a doctor. But as he grew to 7 foot 2, basketball became his profession.
Dikembe left the Congo for the United States and Georgetown University when he was 21. He polished his skills. Became a defensive star as a professional and crafted a Hall of Fame career. But he never forgot where he came from. The eulogies for Mutombo were of a more personal nature than they were for Rose. People spoke of how much he cared for others. There was the hospital he helped build in the Congo. The foundation he created. His work with Special Olympics.
Greatness comes in many forms. How we’re remembered matters. After the cheering stops.
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