ATLANTA — How the hell are we supposed to remember Pete Rose?
Do we remember Rose — who died Monday at the age of 83 — as “Charlie Hustle,” the grittiest, hardest-skulled ballplayer in baseball history, a man who by sheer force of will claimed baseball’s all-time hits record? Do we remember him as an unrepentant gambler, a man who compromised the integrity of himself and his sport by betting on his own team, refusing every effort at atonement? Do we remember him as a Neanderthalic throwback, an often cruel man accused of crimes far worse than gambling on baseball?