[Widely regarded as one of the best players never to make the Hall of Fame, he was perfect for Chicago
...In the case of Ronald Edward Santo, I'd spent a month with him in the summer of 2000, eating with him, watching him rage, witnessing him charm men and women alike, recoiling in horror as he'd bark at innocent passersby merely because he was teed off about something stupid his beloved Cubs had done. And in the 40 years he'd been associated with that silly baseball team, he'd been made mad by their stupidity more times than the world's combined computer capacity can calculate...
He had a long life, a great life. Played major league baseball. Was an All-Star. Had fun. Loved pizza. Made more money after he retired from the game than he made in it. Then, for the last two decades of his life, sat in the radio booth high above home plate, trying to will the Cubs to win. But he couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how loud he roared, no matter how broken his heart always was by that silly, stupid team. Maybe only an omnipotent deity can will the Cubs to win. Then again, it's possible even the creator of the universe lacks the power to bend nature's rules so much.
Yep, it was a great life, albeit one with two gaping holes in it, one very personal and the other shared with millions of Chicagoans and countless emigres thereof. Santo never made the Hall of Fame. And that silly, stupid team never even got to the World Series, much less won one.] emphasis added
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