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Unlikely BFFs

By Tom Friend

Thursday, June 12, 2008

On the corner of Irrelevance and Oblivion sits Pete Rose. Baseball won't have him, but Las Vegas will, so here he is in the far reaches of a designer mall, behind a rope, hawking the only thing he has left: himself.

He sits there every Thursday through Sunday, six hours at a time, signing balls, bats, photos, jerseys and jokes. For $199, he'll sign: "Hits-4,256, Steroids-0." For $299, he'll sign: "Sorry I Bet On Baseball." And if you ask politely, he might even write: "Sorry I Shot JFK" or "Sorry I Broke Up The Beatles."

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