This Old Cub

A short while back I received a copy of "This Old Cub," a short documentary about Ron Santo. I should make something clear from the start. I am not a fan of Ron Santo. To be more fair, I'm not a fan of his broadcasting style. I started watching the game after his retirement, so to me Ron Santo the player is a set of lines in the statbook. Like many younger fans, I know Santo through his broadcast work for the Cubs. I grew up on one of the coasts, where sports broadcasting has a more journalistic flavor than it does in the Midwest. When I lived in Chicago I was annoyed by the homerism exhibited by many of the local radio and television personalities. While unprofessional is too strong a word, the lack of objectivity was a complaint I often offered. Ron Santo was and still is the Chicago paragon of this style. His "Oh No!!!" response to Brant Brown's muff of a crucial fly ball (included in the film) was humorous to some, but grated on my nerves. Putting aside my personal feelings about his broadcasting methods, I put this DVD into my machine because I wanted to know more about Ron Santo the man.

While my prejudices are negative, one also has to worry about the biases introduced when this movie was filmed. It was directed by Jeff Santo, Ron's son. There was certainly the possibility of this not being a documentary, but instead a hagiography. The younger Santo did a good job of showing his father as a man rather than as an icon. The film covers a period of Ron Santo's life where he faces some hard times ­ the loss of his second leg to diabetes, another "No thank you" from the Hall of Fame voters, and of course, another year of being a diehard Cubs fan. Layered on top of this are chunks of Santo's biography, what it is like to play with diabetes and arguments about the Hall of Fame.

At the heart of the film is Santo's struggle with the disease that has stolen both of his legs. For me it brought flashbacks to college, where my roommate would inject insulin into his stomach every day, and if he didn't get things quite right, I'd come home from class to find him semi-comatose on the floor. Santo played in a different time, when diabetes was harder to control, and when there was less understanding in the general public about the disease. He did not have access to modern diagnostic equipment, he would eat a candy bar if he felt like he was on the edge. He recounts a story where he was seeing triple, and managed to hit a game-winner by swinging at the middle ball. Later in life complications would lead to the amputation of both of his legs. The radio interview where he shares plans of his second amputation is one of the most powerful scenes of the film, along with him waking in the morning and putting on his legs. However, one shouldn't feel sorry for Santo, he certainly doesn't feel sorry for himself. While some former players comment that he should be in the Hall of Fame simply for playing with diabetes, he counters that he should be judged only on what he did between the lines. When he has difficulty during rehab, he angrily refuses help from the cameraman, noting that he has to learn how to do things himself (this scene magnifies when you realize that the cameraman is likely his own son). This aspect of the film is very strong. While it might be tough to make a film only based upon this theme, it builds a solid framework for the rest of the project.

It wouldn't be a movie about the Cubs if they didn't dissect 1969. If you live in Chicago for any amount of time you'll discover that the '69 Cubs are a cottage industry. Once again we get the story about a team of destiny that ran into a black cat. If you didn't know better, you would think that the Cubs lost out to the Mets on the last day of the season in extra innings. They always make it seem like the Mets just barely nosed out the Cubs. Look it up. The Cubs finished 8 games back. They had the third best record in the league, and the fifth best in baseball. They are the most famous 92-60 team to have missed the playoffs. The next year they dropped to 84 wins, but finished only 5 games out of the playoffs. While I could have done with fewer stories from this segment, it does contain one of the best narrative editing sequences of the film. The explanation of Ron clicking his heels features historic footage from the time, and then they sneak in video of Ron walking on an artificial leg. Ron then, Ron now. Nicely done. This movie sneaks up on you, and if you aren't watching closely you'll miss a lot of fine filmmaking.

One of the other big thrusts of the film is Ron's status as a Hall-of-Famer who hasn't quite been inducted. Looking at his accomplishments it is quite a puzzle as to why he hasn't gotten the nod. The only explanation that holds any water is that he was on a team that never won anything, and there are already three Hall-of-Famers from that team (Banks, Williams, Jenkins) and that sportswriters don't want four from a team that didn't grab a ring. Santo's merits as an individual are unquestioned. There are many interviews with media and fellow players in support of his induction, and after a while they become a bit repetitive. It would have been more interesting to track down at least one writer who had neglected to put Santo on his ballot, and to hear the other side of the story. Near the end of the film we witness Santo being told again that he has been rejected from baseball's version of immortality. It's a hard scene to watch, but after witnessing what Santo has to do to get out of bed every morning, you know that Ron has more than enough strength to shrug and wait for next year (a slogan for Cubs fans).

This film is not without its flaws. There are nit-picky historical problems (e.g. the 1951 home run call when the Giants last World Series victory, in 1954, is recounted), some of the talking heads go overboard (e.g. the team of Santo and Pat Hughes as the most legendary radio broadcasters in Cubs history - there are people like Harry Caray and Jack Brickhouse in this tradition) and some segments go a little long. Those are minor. The effort overall is solid, entertaining, and paints a good portrait of Santo. Jeff Santo follows up his father getting the disappointing phone call about the Hall of Fame with a scene from the day at Wrigley where Ron Santo gets his number retired. That's a good wrap up for both the film and this review - the product might be underappreciated by the public at large, but will be loved by Cubs faithful.

THIS OLD CUB can be purchased at: www.thisoldcub.com