Monday, May 12, 2014

Story Of The Weekend


So I randomly got invited to Game 4 of the Ducks-Kings freeway series with the promise of a dinner at the Palm beforehand.  The Ducks crushed the Kings even more than I crushed my filet, but the best part of the night was reserved for last.  My buddy and I were waiting in the valet line at the Palm after the game when he noticed Pete Rose standing right behind us.  My buddy told me to take a look at who was behind me, but I only saw the two Asian hookers Rose was flanked by.  I truly didn't recognize Rose under a white fedora, a XXL Cuban shirt and suede loafers.  All he was missing was a cane.  I wanted a picture with him, but he was already agitated by the time I introduced myself and called him the best hitter that ever lived.  I decided that forcing the issue on a selfie was a little too Jim Gray-esque, so I let it go.  Not 2 minutes later, I witnessed Pete Rose send one of his geisha girls into the sushi bar next door to check on the score of the Spurs-Blazers game.  She came out and yelled, "The Spurs are winning."  His response, "By how much?"  My jaw hit the floor.

Let me repeat that - The one and only time I've ever even seen Pete Rose, I witnessed him check the score, aka his spread, for a meaningless NBA quarterfinals game.  Once a degenerate, always a degenerate.  And for what it's worth, I don't really think he's that sorry about betting on baseball.

No comments:

Post a Comment