If I were more selfish, I’d want Pete Rose to never get into the Hall of Fame.

Why?

Because for those of us who share opinions about sports for a living, Rose not in the HOF is pure gold.

Pete Rose Hall of Fame Debate Season officially started Tuesday. Every year, Opening Day is after completion of the U.S. Open, as soon as discussion on who endured on which ridiculously difficult golf course is exhausted.

Rose season lasts only about a month, until NFL training camps open, and at least in our imaginations we can start to smell the BBQ of college football tailgates.

But it is intense. And the debate hangs in there, year after year — like Rose himself did every plate appearance, fouling off 3-2 sliders on his way to collecting the most hits in Major League Baseball history, 4,256, in 24 seasons.

Other topics have about as much chance of stopping Rose as Ray Fosse did in the ’70 All-Star Game. It superseded the train wreck that Tiger Woods has become. It’s even not far behind Crazy Rapper Helicopter Dad vs. Crazy UCLA Strength Coach.

What would vacation relief sports talk show hosts do without Rose if he ever gets in? It is the gift that keeps on giving. “I don’t care if Pete Rose gets into the Hall of Fame or not,” said no one ever.

Has he finally paid his dues for gambling on baseball while managing the Cincinnati Reds? Some who said yes now say no, with the recent release of documentation that he also gambled while he was a player.

Seriously? There are people who follow baseball who didn’t think Rose gambled on it before becoming a manager?

More people would know of Rose’s greatness as a player if he were finally enshrined, right?

Maybe not.

The number of visitors to the Hall of Fame has been in decline. But not the interest in Rose. His real fame is in his infamy.

Should Rose be kept out forever because his lifetime ban serves as a constant reminder and deterrent for anyone else in baseball considering placing a wager on a game?

That doesn’t work for a couple of reasons. First, gambling is an addiction and a disease. I’m willing to bet there are people who work in baseball who are putting money on games now … because they can’t help themselves.

Here’s the other thing: Rose has made a handsome living as the lovable outlaw, making appearances and signing memorabilia.

He’s become a sympathetic figure over the years. Watch the commercial with the woman telling him he’s not allowed in “the hall” even at home. Now tell me you don’t feel something: humor, empathy, or both. OK, maybe your only emotion is sustained loathing for the man who stained the game — because it, and the Hall of Fame, are pure otherwise? Yeah, right.

For many — even those who understand that his decisions as a manager could have been affected by whether he was betting on that game or tomorrow’s — the only way the bloom would come off of this Rose is if it was discovered he threw games … and how could anyone who played that hard not be trying to win?

This brings us to a logical point to bring up Joe Jackson. Like Rose, he played too hard and too well to be throwing a game, which is what he was accused of in the 1919 World Series. The lifetime .356 hitter should be enshrined in Cooperstown, as should Rose.

Part of me likes having this to write about, since 1989. But even though I love that commercial, what I really want is for it to become obsolete.

Reach Star-Advertiser sports columnist Dave Reardon at dreardon@staradvertiser.com, his “Quick Reads” blog at staradvertiser.com and @davereardon.