A Very American Life.
Pete Rose did very good, did very bad, died unreconciled
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Wrong by a mile, it turns out, Scott Fitzgerald once wrote that there are no second acts in American lives. It seemed the proper sentiment at the time. Fitzgerald was both participating in and observing the Roaring Twenties, a time of absurd decadence by the rich that foreshadowed the Great Depression, and perhaps everything looked and felt obvious, good or bad, rich or poor, thriving or suffering.
I grant you, that’s pretty high-hatted talk considering our topic. But Pete Rose, as coarse, base and ground-level as any American sports figure in history, died Monday as absolute proof that our lives may have second acts, third acts, encores.
They can do all that and still feel unfinished. Rose’s life certainly did.