Remembering Ron Santo

It is hard to put into words what the loss of Ron Santo is like. For Cubs fans, it is like losing a family member. For baseball fans, it is like losing a legend. For the Hall of Fame, it is like losing a future member. I would imagine that his death comes as a shock to all Cubs fans, given that he always sounded so full of life and energy when he called games. His emphatic "yes!" when a Cub hits a home run or "alright!" when something actually does go right for a change go along with his famous sighs and groans of "oh no" when something goes wrong gave listeners the sense that he would keep on kicking for years to come.

As most fans were well aware, he suffered from type one diabetes and had a history of health problems. Back during the 1960s when there was no way to measure blood sugar levels on one's own, the only way he could battle the disease was with candy bars and judging how he felt. And he had to keep it hidden, afraid he would be forced to retire. As great as he performed on the field, his contributions off the field were arguably much more valuable. He helped raise millions of dollars for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. You can donate to JDRF here: https://www.jdrf.org/index.cfm?page_id=100903.

I never saw Ron Santo play; his playing career was before my time. I discovered him through listening to Cubs games on the radio as I grew up. He was always a harbinger of emotions, not afraid completely pour his heart out over the air. You could always tell how the Cubs were doing based solely on the sound of his voice: if he was in a bad mood you knew the Cubs were playing poorly and if he was in a good mood you knew all was well, even without knowing the score.

You could make out the love and adoration he had for this team simply from the sound of his voice. I always loved the way he carried his emotions on his sleeve, the same way I do as a Cubs fan. He screamed for joy when I did, he cried out in disgust when I did and he pulled for the Cubs as hard as I did. And now that he is gone, the two of us will no longer cheer in unison.

I do not feel like entering to the Hall of Fame debate here because that is not important right now. And while I believe wholeheartedly that he belongs in Cooperstown, this is a period of mourning and remembrance, not bickering. Let us all just spend this time remembering a great, great Cub.

Ronald Edward Santo

1940-2010

Rest In Peace