Photo by Will ByingtonOn Friday morning, I awoke to the news that Cubs radio broadcaster and should be Hall of Famer Ron Santo had died. Despite his lengthy battles with a variety of illnesses, including Type I diabetes, it took quite some time for the initial shock of the announcement to fade. While normally immune to any real sense of loss when a celebrity passes, Ron was more than that to us and to the city of Chicago. He was not only a sports icon, having spent most of his illustrious playing career with the Cubs, but he was like family. If Harry Caray was Chicago's slightly drunk grandfather, Ronnie was it's goofy and good-hearted uncle.
In many ways, listening to Ron and his partner Pat Hughes call games for the Cubs had come to symbolize summer in Chicago for both Katy and I. When we first moved here over seven years ago, Katy was still a relative baseball novice. It wasn't until she started listening to games on the radio with me that she really started to bleed Cubby blue...not so much for the actual game itself mind you, but for the camaraderie, witty banter and funny stories that Pat and Ron would share during the games, especially the blowouts, which happen more often than not with the Cubs.
Over the course of the next seven years, Pat and Ron would serve as our constant summertime companions...grilling out and cooking dinner in the kitchen; lying on the beach, fiddling with the portable radio trying to find the perfect frequency; making a ten minute trip to Target or a six hour drive back to Iowa; sitting on the porch, drinking a few Old Styles while the sun set. Pat and Ron were summer in Chicago, more so than the Cubs, because even when the team was losing they were still a joy to spend a few hours with.
Back in 2006, the Cubs were playing terrible baseball, and towards the end of the season, a woman that I knew who worked for the Cubs would often times offer me free tickets to the games. One chilly fall night, we were offered the opportunity to sit up in one of the press boxes. Our "seats" turned out to be a claustrophobic 12x12 booth with two swivel chairs and a wobbly table. To our immediate right was the Cubs radio booth and there sat Pat and Ron, calling this meaningless late season game as if it were Game 7 of the World Series.
At first they seemed to be a bit weirded out by these two random, and wholly unofficial looking twenty-somethings (sigh) sitting next to them eating nachos, but they seemed to let their guard down about halfway through the game, when during a commercial break they both turned to look at us. Ron smiled. Pat waved while eating an apple. If you ask her when she really became a Cubs fan, Katy would likely respond that it was at that moment.
"Remember when Pat was eating that apple?"
She earned her blue pinstripes that night and Ronnie forever earned a place in our hearts.
We'll miss you Ronnie.
I leave you with Katy's all-time favorite Ron story, the "frozen yogurt incident" courtesy of Pat Hughes. This is a story that Pat would recount once every summer. Like most good stories, it would grow bigger and more unbelievable with each telling. Each time Ron would laugh uncontrollably in the background, trying to make and excuse here and there (he never had a good one), all the while laughing at himself, something he was good at even in the tough times. We could all learn a lot from his unflappable spirit in the face of adversity, in regards to both physical challenges and challenges posed by frozen yogurt machines. Luckily for Ronnie, they have somebody that works those for you in heaven.
One that I like is the yogurt machine story in Arizona. It was about five years back because he still had his legs. The sign in the press room said, "Do not turn on this machine until game time." Ron figured, "Look, I can't wait until game time because I have to work at game time. Besides, I'm Ron Santo." So, he turns on this frozen yogurt machine, fills his cup happily, and then to his utter dismay, he cannot turn the machine off. Yogurt starts pouring out, and I mean mountains of yogurt. All over the floor. A complete mess. He starts shaking the machine and there was lots of cursing involved. Ron then panics and does what any 7th-grader would do: He runs away without telling anyone that the machine has gone haywire and calmly comes back to the booth with his cup of yogurt. - Pat Hughes
In many ways, listening to Ron and his partner Pat Hughes call games for the Cubs had come to symbolize summer in Chicago for both Katy and I. When we first moved here over seven years ago, Katy was still a relative baseball novice. It wasn't until she started listening to games on the radio with me that she really started to bleed Cubby blue...not so much for the actual game itself mind you, but for the camaraderie, witty banter and funny stories that Pat and Ron would share during the games, especially the blowouts, which happen more often than not with the Cubs.
Over the course of the next seven years, Pat and Ron would serve as our constant summertime companions...grilling out and cooking dinner in the kitchen; lying on the beach, fiddling with the portable radio trying to find the perfect frequency; making a ten minute trip to Target or a six hour drive back to Iowa; sitting on the porch, drinking a few Old Styles while the sun set. Pat and Ron were summer in Chicago, more so than the Cubs, because even when the team was losing they were still a joy to spend a few hours with.
Back in 2006, the Cubs were playing terrible baseball, and towards the end of the season, a woman that I knew who worked for the Cubs would often times offer me free tickets to the games. One chilly fall night, we were offered the opportunity to sit up in one of the press boxes. Our "seats" turned out to be a claustrophobic 12x12 booth with two swivel chairs and a wobbly table. To our immediate right was the Cubs radio booth and there sat Pat and Ron, calling this meaningless late season game as if it were Game 7 of the World Series.
At first they seemed to be a bit weirded out by these two random, and wholly unofficial looking twenty-somethings (sigh) sitting next to them eating nachos, but they seemed to let their guard down about halfway through the game, when during a commercial break they both turned to look at us. Ron smiled. Pat waved while eating an apple. If you ask her when she really became a Cubs fan, Katy would likely respond that it was at that moment.
"Remember when Pat was eating that apple?"
She earned her blue pinstripes that night and Ronnie forever earned a place in our hearts.
We'll miss you Ronnie.
I leave you with Katy's all-time favorite Ron story, the "frozen yogurt incident" courtesy of Pat Hughes. This is a story that Pat would recount once every summer. Like most good stories, it would grow bigger and more unbelievable with each telling. Each time Ron would laugh uncontrollably in the background, trying to make and excuse here and there (he never had a good one), all the while laughing at himself, something he was good at even in the tough times. We could all learn a lot from his unflappable spirit in the face of adversity, in regards to both physical challenges and challenges posed by frozen yogurt machines. Luckily for Ronnie, they have somebody that works those for you in heaven.
One that I like is the yogurt machine story in Arizona. It was about five years back because he still had his legs. The sign in the press room said, "Do not turn on this machine until game time." Ron figured, "Look, I can't wait until game time because I have to work at game time. Besides, I'm Ron Santo." So, he turns on this frozen yogurt machine, fills his cup happily, and then to his utter dismay, he cannot turn the machine off. Yogurt starts pouring out, and I mean mountains of yogurt. All over the floor. A complete mess. He starts shaking the machine and there was lots of cursing involved. Ron then panics and does what any 7th-grader would do: He runs away without telling anyone that the machine has gone haywire and calmly comes back to the booth with his cup of yogurt. - Pat Hughes
1 comment:
Thank you, this was wonderful! I love our memories.
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