It was 1980, and the Phillies won the World Series against the Kansas City Royals. My brother and I drove downtown to take part in the insanity, and we didn’t leave to go home until almost 3 in the morning.
We were driving down Lombard Street when some guy cut us off, and my brother was pissed. He pulled up next to the car at the light, and there was Pete Rose. Not driving (his agent was at the wheel), just sitting there.
And he looked scared. His son, Petey Jr. was in the back seat with Bob Boone’s kid. He probably stayed at the stadium until the streets died down.
I leaned past my brother and made the universal signal to roll down the window. Pete did, and I said, “Yo Pete, nice catch.” I was referring to this.
