Bittersweet day in Wrigleyville. Ron Santo was the epitome of being a Cub. Nobody represented the team, the city, the organization, the fans better and more appropriately than Santo. And no one wanted to get into the Hall as bad or deserved it more, either. If Hall voters hadn’t had their heads up their asses for so long and didn’t need an impassioned plea from Billy Williams to finally see what everyone else already figured out, maybe Ron would’ve been around for the day when his destiny as a player, broadcaster and ambassador to the game was finally realized. Either way, at least he got the call. It was long overdue.