By Ferd Lewis
Advertiser Columnist

You, too, can collect the complete home library of Pete Rose's straight-from-the-heart baseball books.

In 1989 there was "Pete Rose: My Story" (Macmillan, $12) in which he told us that he didn't gamble on baseball games and Major League Baseball's charges against him were "tainted."

Now, 14 years later, comes "My Prison Without Bars" (Rodale, $24.95) in which Rose says he did, after all, bet on a bunch of games.

Charlie Hustle, indeed.

Not content to hold baseball's record for hits, now he's apparently going after Aesop's record for fables.

Unfortunately, it seems Rose hasn't changed. Only the price on the cover of his latest version of the truth has.

One of the most endearing things about Rose the baseball player was that nothing stopped him in his often head-first pursuit of a hit or run.

One of the less-than-endearing things about Rose the person is that the truth apparently is no more of a barrier than Ray Fosse was. At least not when there is a profit to be turned, an angle to be worked or some die-hard fans to be taken in.

In a move clearly calculated to serve as a setup for Rose while sadly overshadowing the Hall of Fame selection of this year's inductees, Paul Molitor and Dennis Eckersley, the new book is scheduled to come out tomorrow.

There are two schools of thought on this. One is that Rose had to come clean eventually — or at least as close as he will ever allow himself — about violating baseball's cardinal rule so he could take his best shot at the Hall of Fame. His 20-year window on selection by the Baseball Writers Association of America, many of whose members covered Rose's career and have some sympathy for him, closes after 2005. Then, his candidacy would be at the mercy of the so-called oldtimer's committee, some of whom are adamant about wanting no part of him.

The other theory is that Rose wants Hall of Fame absolution as a way to achieve his most immediate aim of getting back into the game — and the money — as a manager with the Cincinnati Reds. At age 63 when the season starts, that window is closing, too.

So, it comes down to what commissioner Bud Selig and baseball should do with its lingering Rose situation, once and, hopefully, for all.

On balance, Rose's 4,256 hits and impressive body of work on the field as a player say his plaque should hang in Cooperstown, where it is more about statistics than character.

But his conduct as a manager and the subsequent body of lies suggest baseball should tell him to stay out of the dugout for good.

In the meantime, there's always Rose's next book to look forward to.

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.