The toughest man ever to play for the Chicago Cubs is gone. After a 50 year fight with diabetes, a Hall of Fame worthy playing career, and an interesting and mostly entertaining two decade stint in the Cubs’ radio booth, Ron Santo is dead at the age of 70.
I only met him on a handful of occasions, I never saw him play and I spent countless hours in cars either laughing with or laughing at him on the radio, but I loved Ron Santo in that very manly way that we love our sports heroes. To say he led an incredible life is an understatement.
He broke into the big leagues at 19 (and by now we’ve all heard him tell that story about playing in that doubleheader in Pissburgh 1,000 times) and played his ass off for 15 seasons. That he did almost all of it after learning he had diabetes at a time when managing the disease was infinitely tougher than it still is, is beyond impressive. He was either the first or second best third baseman of his era (depending on whether or not you think Brooks Robinson was better, and he wasn’t, so you’re just wrong, so how about you just shut your stupid face) and his numbers merit his induction into the Hall of Fame. When you factor in how his disease affected him on the field, and how it shortened his career by several years, his induction should have been a no-brainer.
And yet he’s still not in. Why? Because baseball writers as a whole are dopes, and baseball players are a lot dumber than that, and they’re the ones who to this point have had the say in whether or not he got in.
He’ll get in at some point, and it will still be deserved, but it won’t be the same. Nobody would have enjoyed being a Hall of Famer more than Ron Santo. That he should have been in 15 or 20 years ago is the real shame. They missed out on 15 or 20 chances to hang out with him in their crummy little snobatorium in Cooperstown.
I, like most of you, remember Ron exclusively as a broadcaster. And let’s not fool ourselves, he wasn’t very good at it. He started out as a horrible analyst, got a little better, and went right back to being horrible at it. He mangled names, he answered faxes at the most ill-opportune times, he forgot the score, the forgot who was pitching, he’d lose track and spend five minutes asking Pat Hughes for help catching his scorebook up. He spent more time trying to guess the attendance at the ballpark than he did studying up on the opposing pitcher. And we loved him for all of it anyway. Why? Because he was genuine, and we liked him. At times, mostly when you were in the car and couldn’t see what was going on and Ron was derailing Pat from describing what really happened, you’d get irritated with him, but it never lasted very long. He wanted the same thing we did, for the Cubs to win, and like us he had no filter on showing his disgust or his excitement.
For 20 years, nearly every big moment in any Cubs game has a soundtrack of Ron either happily yelling, “All right!” or him dejectedly moaning.
For most of that time he had the perfect foil in Pat Hughes. If Ron was one of the toughest men we’ve ever met, Pat is certainly one of the most patient. That he and Ron were great friends was no secret. Pat had the amazing ability to correct Ron without showing him up. For most of those years when Ron went off on a tangent, Pat was there to reel him back in. And when there was downtime (and with this team there’s always a lot of it) the two could go straight into what WGN Radio called “The Pat and Ron Show.” Ron would make fun of Pat’s sweater. Pat would tell stories about Ron sneaking down to the pressroom before a game to get frozen yogurt only to have the machine stick open and for Ron to literally run out of the room and just leave yogurt pouring down onto the floor. Pat got a lot of great radio out of Ron which made the whole thing worth it.
We liked Ron because he had good taste in people. He genuinely liked Pat (of course) and Len Kasper and Bob Brenly, and he wasn’t really all that fond of Steve Stone or Chip Caray. Can’t say the man doesn’t have good taste.
That he may or may not have punched tHom Brenneman and broke his jaw only adds to the legend.
Making fun of himself, at first, didn’t come easy for Ron, but when he embraced it, he found some great material there. He loved to tell the story about the night at Shea Stadium when he stood up during a cold, early season game, and had an unfortunate run in with a space heater. He liked to explain that the prosthetics he wore actually made him taller than he was before. Apparently they made him a little too tall, because as he stood there, Pat started to smell something burning. He looked up, there was Ron, toupee ablaze looking back at him. The space heater hanging from the ceiling had melted the top of Ron’s hairpiece.
He once sent a WGN Radio producer to his hotel room to find a missing hairpiece and the producer found it all right. Stuck to a FedEx box in the garbage can.
With all of the fun we had with Ron, it’s easy to take for granted just how much he really went through, and how amazing his ability to handle it all was.
Diabetes ravaged his body and like the Black Knight in “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” the doctors had to start lopping off limbs and Ron treated them like they were “just a flesh wound.”
[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhRUe-gz690]
He had a couple of heart attacks, he survived a car accident at spring training a few years ago, and he had two bouts of bladder cancer, the second is the one that finally claimed his life. And he plowed right through most of it.
He lost a foot and then a leg to the disease and he got a prosthetic and got right back to walking.
Then when his other leg started to deteriorate he voluntarily had it amputated and added a second prosthetic and got right back to walking again.
The man was nothing short of amazing.
We all think that if we’re faced with obstacles that we’re tough enough to fight through them. We all hope we don’t have to find out. Ron found out, and was always up to the task.
We’re going to miss him, maybe most of all for being the host of the most awesomely terrible five minutes of sports radio every day in the summer, the manager’s show on WGN. Only Ron could say things like, “We’re here with the fine manager of the Chicago Cubs, Bruce Kimm…” and get away with it. We’ll also miss how he used “Big Boy” to express both his fondness for someone, and to cover when he didn’t actually know who they were.
So long, Big Boy. We’re going to miss you.
[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXNFiLG550I]
Who do I talk to about getting that gig?
I saw him play. He was one helluva player. Quick as hell.
Best 3rd baseman the Cubs ever had.
Screw you, Fork!
In honor of the death of Ron Santo, Acapulco Taco Pie’s are half off.
So is my blouse.
Great post Andy, not having Ron there will make a terrible season next year even worse, I actually cried when I found out. I would like to hear the story about him punching Brennemen, that has to be awesome.
I feel sheepish about hating on Santo toward the end now. Him punching tHom out–if true–should have overriden all of his flaws as a broadcaster to me. RIP, Ron.
Perfect. Thank you, Andy. Today is truly a sad day in Chicago as Cubs Nation loses it’s patriarch. I don’t think it will fully hit me until Opening Day next season when I turn on WGN and don’t hear him. He will FOREVER be in the hearts of Cubs fan.
Thank you, again. Wonderful piece.
My favorite Santo broadcast moment was the clinching double play in 2003. If you get a chance to hear that this weekend, don’t miss it. I can’t stand that Ron won’t live to see his HOF induction or the Cubs win it all. Nor will I.
^^^^ By clinching double play, I mean the successful one that sealed the Central Division, not the botched one that sealed our fates for eternity.
Well done, Andy. Thank you.
Santo was obviously upset about not making it into the Hall of Fame. He expressed his feelings, and didn’t dwell on it, at least not publicly. He knew that those of us who followed his career thought that he deserved it. He also got to hear us announce our respect and admiration, not just of him as a ballplayer, but as a diabetes warrior, a cancer warrior and a heart attack survivor.
great post man, this is the one i waited for since i heard it in the radio this morning heading out. never saw him play and i most def. got a little annoyed with his ill timed faxes and everything when i was trying to focus, but you spend 21 out of 25 years in life listening to someone 162 days a year it leaves a void. rip big boy
@ Joe
Yeah, I didn’t even bother going to any of the “usual” sources for sporting news once I heard…I waited and knew that whatever Andy would have would be perfect, and indeed it was.
I’m going to miss Ron’s scouting report on every pitcher, ever:
_________ has a fastball, a curve, a slider, a changeup, and a forkball. The big issue for this guy is command. If his control is there, he’s going to have a good day.
@RV those scouting reports will be missed, so much information to process there
This post was a home run. Well done.
I didn’t think that I would find this news as depressing as I have. We all knew of Ron’s health issues and he could drive you crazy on a radio call. But I feel genuinely bad that he never got to see a Cubs pennant or World Series win, he put his heart, sole and a good chunk of his body into it.
I also feel like the Hall of Fame and the Veteran’s Committee cheated all baseball fans, not just Cubs fans, out of what would had been one hell of an acceptance speech, for a bunch of petty reasons. That pisses me off.
Rest in peace Ron, and say hi to Harry for me when you get a chance.
I loved listening to Pat & Ron online last season. Even when the Cubs were doing something stupid, Ron was right there with you, cheering (all too rarely … not his fault) or groaning. I will miss him like hell. Now, what’d that last guy do at the plate?
Gene Wojo has the same bit about Monty Python in his artilce about #10 at espn.com. Who’s stealing from whom, or is it just a coincidence?
Great article, Andy. You captured what we all thought of Ron perfectly. The fax thing was always funny to me, especially in this day of email, tweets, IM. I can imagine that fax machine as the type that would spit out the thermal paper and then curl up as it came out of the machine. Peace, Ron.
Good article Andy. I cried a couple times this morning while working. This is going to sting for a while. I met him on a couple of occasions in 2004 and then 2005. Never have I met a nicer person.
Unlike you, I saw Brooks Robinson play, lots. Same for Santo. I was 11 when Santo and the Cubs got caught by the Mets, and Santo was my favorite player. But Brooks was better. I get your point that HoF voters are inconsistent, if not arbitrary, but you add nothing by claiming Santo was better than BRobinson. BRobinson was a key player on four AL champs and two WS champs. Santo wasn’t. Yeah, Santo didn’t get to pick his teammates, but that matters to your legacy. People who saw them both play, at the time, regarded BRobinson higher; Santo’s highest MVP placing was 4th in 1967; BRob won in 1964 and finished 4th or higher five times.
Ron Santo was an All-Star 16 times and Rookie of the Year. He was a hell of a player, and he deserves to be in the HoF (as if it really matters; Pete Rose and Buck O’Neil aren’t in the HoF, so it isn’t like all the best players are there anyway). There’s no rational argument for his exclusion. But claiming he was a better player than Brooks is simply wrong. Better hitter (playing in a hitter’s park), sure. Better overall player, no, unless you think defense doesn’t count for much.
This site used to be funny. It has become cranky and bitter and often hateful. I know I’m not the first person to point this out, but I am sorry it has infected what ought to have been a positive tribute to a great ballplayer and a great Cub.
The Brooks Robinson thing was clearly meant to be funny.
Fantastic post, Andy.
I don’t care how good of a broadcaster Ron actually was — I loved listening to him, and I’ll miss him. His replacement in the booth might make for a more informative broadcast, and that’ll be great in its own way, but we’ll never get the Pat & Ron Show back.
RIP, Ron. You’ll be missed.
Shuddup, DC. This isn’t the time.
Regarding the whole Robinson vs Santo at third base comparison, I found this article for everyone reading pleasure:
http://cybermetric.blogspot.com/2009/12/ron-santo-vs-brooks-robinson-and-hall.html
In summation, the writer thought Santo was better and couldn’t believe that he wasn’t in the HOF. East Coast bias might explain some of it.
Keith Olberman made the Hall of Fame Electors yesterday’s “Worst Persons in the World” for their treament of Santo.
This was hands down the best tribute to Santo I’ve read. Thanks for it. I’m not among the fans who feel vaguely guilty for ridiculing Santo as an announcer– because when he was bad boy was he ever bad– but I still always loved the guy at the same time. It’s pretty hard to articulate properly how you can talk some crap about a guy being bad at one job and still love him for all he meant to the organization and this piece really nailed it.
Nicely done Andy.
Ron, you made my life a little better.
You made me laugh.
I thank you for that.
Anyone else remember the time the camera caught Ron flipping off Chip and Steve after they made a joke about him on air? Ron was smiling, but you could tell he was doing it through gritted teeth. As if to say “you assholes don’t get to make fun of me like that, you haven’t earned it.”
It’s been a week, and I’m still crushed about this. I’ve never taken the death of a athlete/broadcaster this hard before. Like Pex, I think it’s because I’m angry at how Santo was screwed out of the HOF by petty, petty men. And how much I’d have loved to hear him react on the air to the final out of a WS the Cubs won.