Remembering a Legend

 First and foremost as a kid that grew up in the north suburbs, my allegiance for many years followed the team that has played on Addison for many years. As I grew older and developed the ability to illustrate a description in my head, one of my favorite fixtures of Cubs game has been the radio commentary on WGN 720. I would often find myself working day shifts delivering pizza for a period of time far too numerous to name while listening to the Cubs lose critical game after critical game while listening to 720.

For those that listen to 720 commentary, we know we don't listen for Pat Hughes. There isn't anything particularly wrong with Pat, but we listened for one guy, Ron Santo. The dynamic between the two of them was something that we all would sit around and laugh about. Pat would talk about the new pitcher we picked up from whatever team, Ron would talk about an ice cream sandwich while still illustrating the image of Soriano tearing around 2nd in hopes of beating the throw from right field. Pat would cue in about back in the day for Ron, Ron would follow it up with a statement that would either end with a yup or something else close ended.

But yet we all came back if we were in the car or doing our homework. There was something about the Santo's personality that we all loved. He was one part legend, one part real Chicagoan, and one part your awesome drunk uncle that says things that make you laugh. Essentially he was the man you would like to sit down with and talk sports instead of the professional sounding Hughes. He was the man you would probably want to talk about girl problems over a pint in a dive. Essentially he became a voice that you associated with a casual conversation about nothing too serious.

What made Santo even better than the voice of a friend in the box was that he never complained. Santo was a diabetic who had his legs amputated. He had heart and bladder cancer. He was continually given the finger by Cooperstown but throughout all of these trials and tribulations, "he never complained. He wanted to have fun. He wanted to talk baseball." Pat Hughes remarked.

On December 4th I was driving north on Clark at a late hour and was dodging drunk pedestrian after drunk pedestrian from Belmont to Addison till I saw the sign at Wrigley read "Ronald Edward Santo 1940 – 2010" and saw the collection of flowers, cards, empty beers, and other Cubs merchandise. I was quickly reminded of the news two days earlier than Santo had died and began to see the amassing of a shrine that will probably stay till the gates open this spring. It became rather clear that the fans were speaking and mourning was the topic.

When spring starts those of us that can listen to a game being called will wonder who will fill Santo's spot. We wonder what type of interactions or character he will bring to the booth. We will run into him at the game and ask for a picture or an autograph. But in the end he will not take Santo's space, no one will.