tickets...

Today is Santo Day. He would have been 72. Camp is open; so are the ticket windows, so I’m in the mood for some baseball flotsam. I thought I’d share a choice Santo anecdote that I discovered over the winter. Surely some of you know it.

For Christmas one of my sons gave me one of those “Baseball Voices” CD’s that Pat Hughes is always hawking. It’s the Santo edition. Have you heard the one about his pregame “interview” with Antonio Alfonseca?

Santo must have thought ol’ Tony Twelve was a descendant of Lew Fonseca, a good outfielder back in the depression era, because he addressed him as though his name was Al Fonseca, “the fine stopper for the Chicago Cubs.”

“Al,” he probes, “how do you feel about the trade that brought you over here to Chicago?”

Al responds with a stream of unintelligible pigeon English. Santo, as though maybe he’s just noticed that his guest has six fingers on each hand and is afraid he won’t be able to keep from asking if the extra one on his pitching hand makes Al twice as good as Mordecai (Three Finger) Brown, pulls the mic back and says, “Well, it’s good to have you with the club. Keep up the good work, Big Boy.”

And that’s it. As Hughes points out in the narration, a segment that typically ran five or so minutes was over and done in less than one.

A written account is a poor substitute for the real thing. I’m glad I have it at my disposal as a go-to laugher. I suspect I may have to cue it up more often than I’d like in the season to come as a fallback.

After listening to Ron and Al’s lively conversation one more time this morning while I had my bowl of shredded wheat I braced myself and intrepidly entered the virtual waiting room of the Minnesota Twins. Their single game tickets went on sale today. Normally there is a limit of 24 per game. For the Cub series in June the per game max was pegged at four. Within a reasonable amount of time I shouldered my way through the virtual throng to the window and was able to come away with three decent seats for the matinee on Sunday, June 10, close enough to Father’s Day that I expect I can guilt both sons into tagging along.

I wonder what the Cubs’ record will be by then. I don’t care.

Happy birthday, Big Boy. Good to have you with the club...