Dad, Ron Santo Pizza, and Seven Inning Games

"NOTHING TO DO" SHARES SOME BOYHOOD CUB MEMORIES THIS WEEK....

As I told you last week, I have been a Cub fan all my life.  I must admit that this, coupled with being born and raised Catholic, not only provided me with my two biggest pre-adolescent  influences, it also created some confusion in my still developing brain.

For example, there was the short lived phase when I thought that Jesus’ favorite disciples were Peter, Luke, Fergie, and Leo.  It got really confusing when my Dad would yell at the radio (pre-cable days) “Jesus Christ!”  I thought he was listening to mass, but it turns out it was another Cub flub in September of ’69.

Speaking of my dear old Dad, it was because of him that I didn’t know major league games lasted nine innings until I was eleven years old.  You see, my family would pile into the car, drive 5 hours, meet our friend Marty at Kohl’s Tavern on Ashland Avenue for a few pre game beers (or in my siblings and my case, cokes) and then head to Wrigley for the game.  After all that, Dad would announce in the seventh inning that he wanted to avoid the traffic jam during rush hour on Lake Shore Drive, and compel us to the car.  At least he let us listen to Vince Lloyd call the last couple of innings on WGN radio.

Back to the game for a minute.  One thing about Dad, as anyone who ever knew him for more than five minutes will tell you – he wasn’t stingy with his money.  We could, and would, order anything on the Wrigley menu.  Cokes, popcorn, Red Hots, and the like were consumed by the bushel by the Lechner family.  But our favorite thing by far was Ron Santo Pizza.  You could get one slice, or a whole pie, but the best feature wasn’t the cheese, or the pepperoni.  It was the funny looking caricature of a smiling Ronnie right on the box.

Ron Santo, despite his diabetes, ended up out living Dad.  And while you’d be lucky to find a Ron Santo pizza box anywhere except some landfill somewhere, the memories of Wrigley Field, over-priced cardboard crust pizza, leaving the game to avoid the traffic, Marty, and most of all Dad will always be there…just like the hope of a World Series for the Cubbies.