I turned on the radio this morning to learn that Ron Santo died. It was like someone kicked me in the gut. Don't get me wrong, I've never met Ron Santo. I don't know him and he doesn't know me. That being said, as a die-hard Cubs fan (officially, since 1980 according to my official "Die Hard Cubs Fan Club" card), Ron Santo felt like a friend.
Santo will be remembered for his passionate, and sometimes (okay most of the time) over-the-top, emotion during the Cubs radio broadcasts. Pat Hughes and Santo produced great broadcasts for Cubs fans, though those not affiliated probably found them unbearable at times. Santo wasn't going to win any awards, but as a Cubs fan, it was nice to know you weren't the only one going through the emotional roller coaster that is the life of a Cubs fan.
Santo was passionate about many things in life. You could tell, based on the documentaries, etc., that he was very passionate about his family. He was extremely active in raising money for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation, a disease he fought himself. As a Cubs fan, though, he was focused on two things. He wanted a World Series on the north side of Chicago. He lived for that. I'm very sad that he never got to see that. He also waited patiently (or impatiently) by the phone every year when the veterans' committee was announcing their Hall of Fame inductees. He never got that call.
I don't know if Santo will ever go into the Hall of Fame. If you look at it objectively, he's borderline. He was never on a winner (in fact, he was an integral part of the '69 Cubs who did anything BUT win) and his stats are certainly on par with some that are in, but not as good as some that aren't. So, we'll have to wait and see, but it certainly won't mean as much without his reaction and emotion.
As for the Cubs, they gave him a couple of runs this past decade. 2003 was memorable. Unfortunately, it will be remembered for the wrong thing, but that was a magical season. After that, it was as if the organization figured out that it could win, and started to spend tons of money. That increased expectations, so it wasn't as easy to enjoy the next two playoff runs, and subsequent disasters. It's sad, though, that the 2010 season was his last. Maybe it was fitting. It was certainly a typical Cubs disaster.
Santo knew how to relate to Cubs fans because, when it came down to it, he was a Cubs fan himself. He didn't try to be a broadcaster, he just added to the broadcast. He was a former Cubs player who, probably more than anyone else in the history of the game, lived and died with his former team. It was refreshing and genuine, and for that, I will always have a spot in my heart for Ron Santo.
In the end, I picture Ron Santo, Harry Caray and Jack Brickhouse sitting together in the afterlife. Harry is complaining about the upcoming season, Ronnie is sky high about the youngsters that are about to bring a championship to the north side and Jack is sitting back enjoying it all.
Rest in Peace, Ron Santo. The radio airwaves will not be the same without you.
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