It started out as a Cub blog with cuss words. I'm still cussin'; it's the Cub part I'm a little squishy on these days.
![]() Illini Basketball Bruce, we gave you tha keys, and THIS is what you brought home? ![]() ¿Dónde está mi dinero, las rameras?
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Monday, July 18
7/18/2005 12:57:00 PM
by Rob
![]() Now, please know that I loved Ron Santo, the player, somethin' fierce. It was reel nice for WGN to show "This Old Cub" Saturday night, thus saving me the DVD rental money. Of course, I realize I then signed up for about 750 gratuitous commercials for everything Ron Santo-esque. But, overall, I was pleased with their effort. The movie? There WAS some incredible footage of the Santo-era Cub games, and the scenes where he's sticking his stumps into his prosthetic legs weren't TOO gruesome. For a notably squeamish sort, I dealt with it ok. It won't scare your kids, in otherwords. But what I didn't like about the movie is that although it was on the surface intended to be a full-length advertisement for Juvenile Diabetes, it came off to me as a full-length advertisement for Ron Santo, Hall-of-Fame candidate. Obviously the man isn't as self-aware and as fulfilled as he'd tell you he is. Someone who has led kind of a dream life, especially somebody who has succeeded to hold off a variety of fatal ailments through sheer hard work and dedication, you'd think they'd have more perspective on life, and what's most important. He still seems to think that the Hall-of-Fame will shape him as a person. Look, this year was the best chance for him to gain entry, and he came up short. Time is not going to stand in his favor, between the inflated statistics of the Steroid Age and the sure demise of some of his buddies on the Veteran's Committee...you think, as time goes on, and guys who never even SAW Santo play (ie. Raffy Palmiero, Barry Bonds) get elected, that he's going to get MORE support? If Ron wants to die, content, he's gonna hafta learn to live with the love of his family, his friends, and the Cub organization, and to live WITHOUT the Hall-of-Fame. And, I'm afraid, without a World Series at Wrigley.
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