By Bob Markus

In the eternal debate of God vs. science, I vote for neither. If there really is global warming, why is the general population of the entire upper half of the United States freezing to death? If there really is a God, why isn't Ron Santo in the Baseball Hall of Fame? Just asking. I've always known that I wouldn't live long enough to see the frozen tundra transformed into a tropical rain forest. It is now becoming clear that I won't live long enough to see Santo enter baseball's Valhalla, either. Neither will poor Ronnie.

I really thought there was hope for Santo, the Chicago Cubs slugging third baseman of the '60s and 70s, who played the game with the joyful exuberance of a small boy while hiding from the world the fact that he was a diabetic, requiring daily injections of insulin. His was a two-front war, the first against one of the finest array of pitchers the baseball world has yet seen, the likes of Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Bob Gibson, Juan Marichal and Gaylord Perry, Hall of Famers all; the second against an insidious disease that can eat a man alive if he's not careful and sometimes prevails even if he is. Since retiring from baseball, Santo has lost both legs to the hunger of the disease, but he has never lost his enthusiasm for the game or his love for the Cubs.

Although I'll argue that he was one of the best third basemen ever to play the game, I won't quibble with those who insist he's also one of the worst baseball announcers ever to do color commentary on a game. That, of course, is irrelevant to the subject at hand. And, in fact, Santo is so blatently in love with the Cubs that it is possible to forgive his shouts of "No!!!" when a Cub commits an error in a crucial spot. Perhaps that anguished "No!!!" is as honest commentary as you're going to find in a broadcast booth.

If you were to ask Santo whether he'd rather go into the Hall of Fame or see the Cubs win the world series, I think he'd be hard pressed to answer. It appears to be a moot point at the moment, because I don't think he's going to see either. This has not been the best of years for most people, but imagine what Santo has gone through in the last couple of months, first watching his beloved Cubs implode in the first round of the playoffs, then seeing his hopes of getting into the Hall of Fame dashed--perhaps forever--when the Veterans committee, comprising all living Hall of Famers, failed to give any player the 75 per cent vote required for admittance. Santo received the most votes of any player, but was not even close to getting the required number.

"It's not going to change my life," said a disappointed Santo upon hearing the news, "but I feel I deserve (to be elected). I put up Hall of Fame numbers during the greatest era of baseball for pitchers and I played with diabetes. Only diabetics can know what I went through." About those numbers: Santo played 15 full seasons, the first 14 with the Cubs and compiled a .277 lifetime batting average, with 342 home runs and 1,331 runs batted in. If those numbers don't impress you, consider these numbers: A .267 batting average, 268 homers and 1,357 r.b.i.s in 23 seasons. That was Brooks Robinson's ticket to the Hall of Fame.

Of course, to judge a player strictly by his numbers can be misleading. Robinson is in the Hall of Fame because he not only was a good hitter, but probably the best defensive third baseman in history (Clete Boyer fans may not concur). But Santo was no slouch in the field, either. I saw both of them play, Santo more often than Robinson, of course, and there wasn't that much difference. Santo, who earned five gold gloves as a third baseman, was as good as it gets in diving to backhand a smash down the line and rising to throw out the batter. One thing that has held Santo back was the fact he never got to display his skills on the national stage, unless you consider his nine All-Star game appearances. Robinson, on the other hand, hit .348 in 18 playoff appearances and .263 in 21 World Series games--and of course fielded superbly.

Many of Santo's friends had assured him that this was his year, that the Veterans committee was certain to endorse him. Three of his teammates: Billy Williams, Ernie Banks and Ferguson Jenkins were among the electors and one of the first things former Cub Ryne Sandberg said upon his induction last year was: "Ron Santo has another vote." I was hopeful, too, but I knew something that Santo, as far as I know, didn't. One of the things holding him back previously, when the Veterans committee was a mix of players and writers, was that one Chicago writer not only voted against him, but campaigned against him every year. That writer has since passed away and, in any event, would not have had a vote this time.

It never should have gone this far, in my view. Santo should have been elected by the Baseball Writers Association of America during his 15 years of eligibility. I know I voted for him every time. I know, too, that being a Hall of Fame voter is not easy if you care at all for the game. There are other players who perhaps are deserving of admittance. I'm going to throw out a name that I doubt you'll see in any other discussion on this subject. Bill Madlock. No? How about four National League batting titles, a .305 lifetime average, and an internal combustion machine that earned him the nickname "Mad Dog?" After his first 10 years in the majors, the length of service that is required for Hall of Fame consideration, Madlock had hit better than .300 eight times and had a lifetime average of .317. Had he retired at that point, he might have had a better chance of inclusion. As it was, he received very few votes--other than mine--and quickly dropped off the ballot.

This year's regular election is, in one sense, a no brainer. Rickey Henderson, baseball's alltime stolen base leader, is eligible for the first time. I can't imagine who wouldn't vote for him unless it be one of those hard liners who insist nobody should get in during his first year of eligility. Beyond Henderson, however, it gets more difficult. Should Mark McGuire get in, despite his alleged steroid use? How about Jim Rice or Andre Dawson, the top two vote getters who failed to get 75 per cent last year when Goose Gossage was the only player admitted?

I voted for the two of them, although I'll admit with not too much conviction. I also voted for pitcher Bert Blyleven, reliever Lee Smith and pitcher Tommy John, who not only was an outstanding pitcher, but has a surgical procedure named for him. That has to count for something. After all, Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers and Frank Chance (well, maybe not Chance) got in only because someone wrote a poem about them.

My last vote went for Harold Baines and, again, I'm not totally sure he deserves it. But with only 5.2 per cent of the voters picking him last year, he is in grave danger of going off the ballot. I was covering the White Sox when Bill Veeck first brought him to the big leagues and I'm aware that his quiet manner might have hid his light under a bushel. Perhaps if he gets another chance, his light will begin to shine.

Note to my faithful readers (and you know who you are even if I don't): I won't be blogging next week, but hope to be at the keyboard again Tuesday Jan. 6. Meanwhile, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all.