"This," he said, "is my Hall of Fame."
"This" was the occasion of his number being retired. And Santo, who died Thursday at age 70, couldn't have been more right.
The greatest honors come from one's peers. Here, Santo was being honored by Cubs and Cubs fans, and he was both.
Of course, he also was a great ballplayer, and the greatest of the great decided more than once he was unworthy of their company. That had to hurt Santo as much as anything - as much as all the illnesses, as much as Brant Brown's dropped fly or Steve Bartman's foul play, maybe even as much as a trip to Shea Stadium.
But none of the hurts ever stuck.
That is Santo's legacy.
The truth is, few men who ever have played the game are worthy of being in Santo's company.
Were there better players? Damn few at third base. On the numbers alone - five Gold Gloves, 342 home runs in a lousy era for offense, a variety of major and National League fielding records - Santo ought to be a Hall of Famer.
Were there better examples?
Show me someone who dealt better with a potentially debilitating medical condition. Santo beat diabetes once, managing to become a nine-time All-Star while keeping his disease a secret. He beat it again, becoming a fundraising champion once the secret was no more. And he beat it a third time, letting the malady take his legs but never his smile.
The same goes for his nearly annual disappointments from Cooperstown. Yes, he wanted to be recognized as a Hall of Famer. Yes, it hurt each time he was not.
But that broken heart quickly was mended and returned to his sleeve, right where underachieving Cubs, overachieving foes and Veterans Committees could be sure to find it.
Bitter? Never.
We should all hold on to our passions as long and our grudges as short as Santo did.
Santo loved the game. He loved those who played it, loved those who loved it, didn't even seem to mind those who wrote about it.
At spring training in 2001, Santo was in a car accident. His blood sugar dipped, and he ended up spinning his 2000 Corvette into a lamp post, then a tree, then a fence.
He walked away unscathed. Mostly. Relating the tale the next day to a small group of reporters, Santo, giggling, looked at a confidant and said, "Should I tell them?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he told us of the accident's one victim - his hairpiece, which flew off amid the carnage.
Santo laughed with the rest of us. He was not one to take himself too seriously.
At this juncture, I was considering writing something like "some Hall of Fame voters might try that approach." But I think that's wrong.
What they ought to do is take very seriously the Hall of Fame's simple voting guidelines:
"Voting shall be based upon the player's record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played."
On the first two, Santo has an argument for Cooperstown. On the last four, he dismantles anyone's argument against.
Dunn deal
Adam Dunn will hit scads of home runs for the White Sox. He also will strike out in bunches and run the bases like a young Jim Thome. But at least Sox fans won't have to endure another DH-by-committee.
Looks like Ken Williams is moving that approach to the closer's spot.
Macey in your facey
A season of picking prep games went into championship weekend with the rest of the sports staffers still having remote chances to catch Alan Macey for this year's title. They didn't. For the record, Macey went 103-37; Pat Disabato 100-40; Tony Baranek 98-42 and Tim Cronin 93-47.