Santo had Cooperstown credentials
Three quick thoughts on Ron Santo, the legendary Cub who died Thursday night at 70:
• He should be in the Hall of Fame.
Third base is the least represented position in the Hall – only 14 third basemen are enshrined, including three from the Negro Leagues.
Santo played in nine All-Star Games and won five Gold Gloves. Only six Hall of Fame third basemen produced a higher OPS-plus – that is, an on-base/slugging percentage adjusted to league and park.
I voted for Santo in his final years of eligibility before he dropped off the writers’ ballot. He failed to reach Cooperstown in 15 tries with the writers and four with the Veterans Committee. And the snub is particularly exasperating because ...
• He displayed remarkable courage as a Type 1 diabetic.
I’m not just talking about Santo’s courage in his final years as a Cubs broadcaster, when he faced heart disease and bladder cancer and fought his way to the broadcast booth walking on two artificial legs.
I’m talking about his courage as a player.
Earlier this year, I interviewed Santo in researching a story on A’s prospect Michael Taylor, a Type 1 diabetic. He told me that he never had access to a glucometer, a medical device that diabetics use to monitor their blood sugar, and often had to battle his way through games.
“Me, I couldn’t tell where I was,” Santo said. “I was either too high or I could feel I was low. The reason everything happened to me was because I never had a glucometer to tell me what I was before I went out there or what I was after.
“Eventually, the side effects happened – losing both legs, open-heart surgery. But that’s not going to happen today. They control their blood sugars and know when to react. They can prepare for a nine-inning ballgame a lot easier.”
• He loved the game like few others.
Santo was quoted as saying that he considered his broadcasting job “therapy” for his various ailments. Listening to him lament the Cubs’ frequent woes, you sometimes wondered.
Broadcasters who are “homers” often aggravate fans who are neutral or root for other teams. But Santo, groaning about one Cubs miscue or another, only made you smile.
He was, to borrow the title of a stirring documentary about him, “This Old Cub.”
Wrigley will not be the same without him.