Walking through the exhibits at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., Junior examines relics of Babe Ruth, Sandy Koufax and Jackie Robinson with bright, wide eyes.

Then Junior looks up at a No. 14 Cincinnati Reds jersey, a cap, a bat, spikes or some other artifact.

He looks back to his father and says, “Who’s that guy, Dad?”

His father kneels down, and says, “Boy, that was Pete Rose. Charlie Hustle. He played the game it was meant to be played. He got his jersey dirty. He never quit. He hit the ball more than anyone else.”

“Why doesn’t he have one of those plaques?” Junior asks.

“Well, son, he made the biggest mistake someone in baseball can make.”

“Why doesn’t he say he was wrong and apologize?”

“He did,” his father frowns. “But some mistakes are just to big to erase.”

The fans, the media, former players, Hall of Famers will all debate what to do with Rose with his new autobiography, Pete Rose: My Prison without Bars, giving the issue a newfound sense of urgency. Hall of Fame or no Hall of Fame. Reinstatement, continued suspension or probationary period.

As the pundits continue the discussion on Rose, remember this: What part of “lifetime ban” is so unclear?

Rules are rules. Rose tarnished the game he claims to cherish. He broke baseball’s cardinal sin – gambling. He bet on the team he managed. Case closed.

In the past 10 years, baseball has endured a strike, growing economic disparity, corked bats and corked players.

As the sport’s status as the national pastime erodes, some want one of its ugliest blemishes to be invited back in because of a book that stated what everyone knew already.

Since 1989, Rose has done nothing but lie and manipulate the system.

After lying for 14 years, hoping to call baseball’s bluff, he confessed.

Coincidentally, that autobiography was released as Paul Molitor and Dennis Eckersley were elected into Cooperstown.

And more than that, it gives the writers nearly two years to stew over whether or not they will vote Rose into the Hall.

After Dec. 2005 – two decades after Rose played his last game – his candidacy for the Hall goes to the less-sympathetic Veterans Committee.

And almost as bad as the confession itself, Rose offers only this feeble apology in the pages of his second – second! – life story: “I’m sure that I’m supposed to act all sorry or sad or guilty now that I’ve accepted that I’ve done something wrong, But you see, I’m just not built that way.”

Well, sorry, Pete, I don’t think you don’t belong back in baseball or in the Hall of Fame.

I’m just not built that way.