Ron Santo, RIP

Every summer I drive across the country on my vacation, and every summer one of the things I look most forward to is listening to some Cubs baseball as I pass through Chicagoland (which I gather takes in most of Illinois, Iowa, Indiana and much of Wisconsin). One of the reasons for this is that a baseball game on the radio makes the miles fly by; and, as many of you know, the Cubs play a lot of day games, so I don't have to wait for the evening hours to catch them. But another big reason is that the Cubs games were broadcast by Ron Santo, who made absolutely no pretense of being anything but an unabashed homer. No surprise there, since he played most of his career as a Cub, back in the sixties and seventies when they had a truly great lineup (Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Glenn Beckert, Fergie Jenkins, Randy Hundley, Don Kessinger-- boy the names bring back some memories). Santo was the slugging third baseman, and as any knowledgeable fan will tell you, should have gone into the Hall of Fame decades ago for his accomplishments in a largely pitching dominated era (by the way-- that's a scan of his actual 1971 baseball card above, a treasured memento of my youth). But getting back to his latter days as a color commentator, he was always thrilled when the Cubbies did something good, and crestfallen if they did something bad. Last April, I was lucky enough to catch the season opener with Atlanta, and naturally, I was cheering for the visitors. When Jason Heyward came up for his first major league at-bat, and crushed a pitch over the right field fence, I was whooping in the car, but Ronnie was literally moaning on the airwaves, almost on the verge of tears as the Cubs gave up the lead, and almost to the point that I felt sorry for him. The thing is, this was clearly no act. I heard him only intermittently (maybe two or three games a year), but he always came across exactly the same way: a Cub diehard to the very end. It was kind of touching, and actually made me pull for the Cubs too (at least when they weren't playing the Braves), if only so that I wouldn't have to worry that Santo might lapse into a deep depression. But I'm guessing he always came back the next day expecting the best of his guys, and even if they disappointed him in the short term, he knew that they'd pull out a win the next day. In some ways, Santo came across as unpolished in this era of interchangeably slick sports announcers, but he was a true original and memorable for his passion for the game and his team. With his passing yesterday, my summer trips sure won't be the same.