By Steve Lyons
FOX Sports West and PRIME TICKET
LYONS ARCHIVE
We should all live our lives with the passion that Ron Santo had for life and for his team.
Although taken from us because of so many health issues in his life, the latest being bladder cancer, he packed more genuine zest into his 70 years than most of us will ever feel.
I knew Santo only in passing, something that I wish were different. We had the kinship of baseball, and I spoke with him every Spring Training and when we played the Cubs. In fact, I went out of my way to speak to him because he always made others feel special and important.
Thom Brennaman was the first person to tell me what a great guy Santo was, and that opinion was confirmed by every other person I talked to about him.
He was diagnosed with diabetes when he was 18 and never said a word about it until he was a confirmed All-Star in the big leagues, and even then he refused to let it be known publicly. He had heart problems and eye issues, and he eventually succumbed to the cancer, but it was the diabetes that ravaged his body. He had more than 10 surgeries on his legs before having both of them were amputated below the knees.
Santo used to love to show off his prosthetic legs. One of his "new" legs was made to look like the pants leg of the Cubs home uniform. The other was the road uni. It was inspiring to see his positive attitude and sense of humor in the face of everything he was going through.
Two things defined Santo, his love for the Cubs and being known as the greatest Chicago Cubs player not in the Hall of Fame.
As a radio broadcaster for the Cubs for more than 20 years, he was an unabashed homer, openly rooting for the team and agonizing with their downfalls, which were many. He simply could not contain himself or his emotions when it came to being an impartial announcer. He loved the team too much.
Many think he should have been voted to the Hall of Fame as a player, but it never happened. Each year that passed left Santo in an ever-increasing state of disappointment. He was hurt by the fact that teammates Billy Williams, Ferguson Jenkins and Ernie Banks were already in the Hall from teams that never won anything. But Santo's numbers couldn't overpower the voters.
He had less than 2,300 hits, fewer than 350 home runs, and never reached 1,500 RBI, but there were many intangibles. Santo dominated his position at third base, becoming an All-Star nine times and winning five Gold Gloves. He did the little things like take a walk, move runners over and get on base better than everybody else. But in the end, it wasn't enough.
The Cubs retired Santo's No. 10 in 2003. On that day he said it meant more to him than being inducted into the Hall of Fame. Maybe it did, because when you're known as a Hall of Famer your career is on display for the whole world to see and acknowledge.
And all Santo ever wanted to be was a Chicago Cub.
