Ron Santo Is Dead. Aww Geez.

Cubs-Brewers, Sept. 23, 1998, in the teeth of a pennant race. Cubs up 7-5 in the bottom of the ninth. Two outs, bases full of Brewers, Geoff Jenkins at the plate. Jenkins hits a fly ball to left, to Brant Brown.

This is how it looked in the play-by-play:

Reached on E7 (Fly Ball); Loretta Scores/No RBI/unER; Cirillo Scores/No RBI/unER; Burnitz Scores/No RBI/unER; Jenkins to 2B

This is how it sounded on the radio in my dorm room:

I remember being confused at first. Before Pat Hughes had even begun describing the play, Santo was already well into the third act of La traviata, and it was as if something had detonated in my room.

So it wasn't Red Barber. So it wasn't the sober analysis you might want out of your color guy. But I'll be damned if there was a better call for that moment. The first "no!" was instinct; the second was the martyrdom already setting in. The distance between the two is more or less the measure of Cubbiedom. RIP, Ronnie.