MCN Interview: Jeff Santo

This Old Cub Trailer

Few Chicago baseball players have embodied the Cubs spirit -- unreasonable optimism in the face of impossibly bad luck -- than Ron Santo, who even clicked his heels after every victory. A third-baseman of uncommon talent and a feared clutch hitter from 1960 to 1974, Santo tallied more than 2,000 hits and 342 home runs during his career, and won five Gold Gloves. He led the National League in walks four times, and topped all National League third-basemen in putouts and assists seven times, and double plays four times.

The Seattle native played in the Cubs infield alongside “Mr. Cub,” Ernie Banks, for several years, and may have been that Hall of Famer’s only peer in representing the Cubs franchise and game of baseball, itself. Sadly, though, also like Banks, he never played in a post-season game.

Santo’s greatest achievement, though, was being able to dominate his position in the National League for more than a decade, while also having to fight a daily battle with Type One diabetes.

“He looked like us … Ron Santo was what we wanted a Chicago Cubs player to be,” says Dennis Franz, who was interviewed as part of the inspirational and highly entertaining documentary, This Old Cub.

Written, shot and co-produced by Santo’s son, Jeff, the 86-minute film not only revisits Santo’s tenure with baseball’s most pitiable gang of also-rans, it also describes in detail just how devastating an effect diabetes can have on even the fittest of athletes. It also follows the tension-filled countdown to the day when Santo would learn if he finally was allowed to join one of this country’s most exclusive clubs, the Baseball Hall of Fame.

This Old Cub opened on March 30, 2004, in a handful of Chicago-area theaters. Sixteen weeks later, it’s still playing. Last Friday, the documentary opened in Los Angeles, as part of a gradual national rollout.

This interview with Jeff Santo was conducted two days before Paul Molitor and Dennis Eckersley were inducted into the Hall of Fame, and almost simultaneously with the beginning of a three-game series between the Cubs and Phillies, for which his father was providing color over WGN-AM. The veterans’ committee will meet again, in February 2005, to decide whether Santo or any other players will make the cut.

MOVIE CITY NEWS: Obviously, This Old Cub was a labor of love for you. Growing up in Chicago, were you able to spend much time with your dad during the season?

JEFF SANTO: Actually, I practically grew up in Wrigley Field … although my brother and I didn’t care about watching the games. We were baseball brats and just wanted to find the lost treasure buried under Wrigley … that, and hassle the vendors.

It was us and Ernie Banks’ sons. Kids weren’t around that much in those days -- like they are today -- but we were in the thick of it. I’d go to the games every day with my father, and would hang out in the clubhouse with all the great players. Sometimes, though, Leo (Durocher) would tell us to scram.

MCN: The notes say that your dad was the first and only position player to perform in the big leagues with Type One diabetes. Explain the difference between Type One and Type Two, which, we’re told, has reached almost epidemic proportions here.

JS: With Type One, you’re insulin dependent … and you need to take shots to stay alive. Onset diabetes, or Type Two, can be controlled with diet or pills, and it comes on later in life. Onset can lead to Type One.

My father’s was diagnosed at 18 -- just after he signed with the Cubs -- and he started taking insulin when he was in the minor leagues. After that first year in the minors, he lost 20 pounds, because he refused to take insulin.

When you’re a diabetic, your sugar is way out of whack, high. You have no insulin pumping from your pancreas.

MCN: He was a gamer, then, even when it came to diabetes?

JS: He tried to regulate it with diet, but that’s not possible with Type One, and he couldn’t function without insulin. Back then, there was a 25-year life expectancy from time it was diagnosed.

My dad’s probably been living with Type One since he was 14 or 15, which means he’s exceeded expectations by 45 years. This, at a time when doctors didn‘t really know how to treat it.

MCN: Not much was really known about the disease in the late ’50s, except that it was something to be feared.

JS: He didn’t tell the Cubs until he made his first All-Star Game. Up until then, he always was treated by his home doctor, in Seattle. Eventually, he did tell the Cubs’ doctor, who agreed to keep it secret, as long as he stayed in shape.

To do that, he first had to determine how far he could push himself. He’d run up and down this hill to see how low his sugar would go. The insulin lowers your sugar, and exercise would act as an invisible insulin.

If he knew how far he could push himself, he could determine when he’d get dizzy, light headed or feel like he’s about to black out. Then, he would have a drink of orange juice or take straight sugar to get back to normal. He’d also carry a candy bar to feel better.

The high almost allows you to function better, but, it’s also the high that burns you inside, eats your body up. When you’re numbers are high, you get lethargic; if your numbers stay too low, you’re going to black out or go into diabetic coma.

MSN: Did your dad ever have a severe reaction while he was playing?

JS: In the film, he recalls being in the on-deck circle, with the bases loaded, and thinking he saw three balls coming from the pitcher’s hand. He was having a diabetic reaction, but hit a grand-slam home run anyway, because he correctly chose to swing at the ball in the middle.

He would take a shot in the morning, and regulate his blood sugar throughout the day with candy bars. They didn’t have glucometers in those days, and it was impossible to monitor blood sugar all the time. He’d go by how he felt, and would really have to prepare for days when there was a double-header. When you eat, it brings your numbers up.

MCN: Why didn’t he want to tell the Cubs about it?

JS: He didn’t want the Cubs to think that every problem he was having on the field was due to diabetes. Once he did tell the management and players, however, it didn’t make any difference, because he had always played hard.

I remember watching him taking a shot every morning, and thinking it was completely normal.

MCN: How does diabetes come to a point where amputation becomes necessary?

JS: You get a bruise or nick, and it doesn’t heal. Diabetes deteriorates the vascular system. It starts with your feet, because they’re the furthest from your heart.

Normally, you have three arteries going down to your feet. An MRI showed that my dad had one big one that stopped right after his shin, and tiny capillaries were delivering all the blood. When he nicked his foot or got a bruise, the blood flow wasn’t enough to heal it, and gangrene would set in.

MCN: What kind of support did the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation provide?

JS: They gave us a generous grant to start production … get us off the ground. We had already started, but it was just Tim Comstock and me showing up with what little money we had. After that, we found investors, including Joe Mantegna, who created “Bleacher Bums” and narrates the film.

MCN: When did you decide to build a documentary around your father’s struggle?

JS: I’ve been in the film business in L.A. for ten years, and had one movie produced in 1999 (Liar’s Poker) , and two plays before that. Here was a story that was in my own back yard. I’d been there with my dad through all the surgeries and took time away from L.A. to be with him after the first leg was removed.

He was in the hospital getting used to the first prosthetic device, when a bruise developed on the heel of his good leg. After broadcasting a full season wearing the prosthesis, and waiting for the bruise to heel, he asked his doctor if it wasn’t a better idea to go ahead with the second amputation.

After he was assured that he would be able to walk on two prosthetic legs, and be ready for the new season, he said, “Take the other leg. Let’s go.” When I told my mom about the decision, she said, “God, this would be such an inspirational story to tell,” and, right there, the light bulb went off.

MCN: I’m guessing your dad was reluctant to go along with your plan.

JS: Of course. The next day, though, I sat down with him for a couple of hour and said, “I’d love to tell your story. It could help so many millions of diabetics.” That dispelled his initial apprehension, and natural reluctance to toot his own horn, because it gave the project a purpose.

He didn’t want to have a camera crew follow him around, but agreed to have me shoot him in the hospital, or in his room, strapping on his legs. I used a Canon mini-DV camera, with available light, so it was like a hidden camera.

MCN: Not only were you able to round up testimony from your dad’s fellow players and other baseball people, but an all-star lineup of Chicago actors also appears in This Old Club.

JS: After my dad agreed to participate in the documentary, a lot people came on board.
I’ve known Joey for years, and we worked together on one of my plays (“A Rough in the Diamond”). He said, “Let’s round up the guys.”

My dad was a hero to all of those guys (Franz, Gary Sinise, William Petersen, Dennis Farina and three of the Murray brothers) you see in the movie. They take the fan perspective and validate what my dad meant on a national level.

MCN: How much of your dad’s talent rubbed off on you.

JS: I played Division I at Miami of Ohio. I was good. I could hit. Obviously, though, I wasn’t going to be as good as my dad.

MCN: The story you tell in This Old Club works on several levels. The Hall of Fame campaign seems to unfold at real time.

JS: We wanted to flashback to show my dad as a player, and why he chose Chicago … then, his role as broadcaster for WGN. But, we also wanted to bring it up to the present, by showing all the scenes in the hospital. We used the Hall of Fame thing as thread that runs throughout the documentary.

It just turned out that when my dad was undergoing the second amputation, he also was up for the Hall of Fame. So, here was this other story unfolding before us, and we didn’t know what the outcome would be. Hollywood couldn’t invent that kind of story.

That’s why called it This Old Club. It’s about a man’s journey through life. It’s not just about diabetes or the Hall of Fame or his baseball career. It’s about what this man was able to achieve, … his spirit and his courage.

MCN: I don’t think I’ll be spoiling anyone’s enjoyment by revealing that your dad didn’t hear the good news from Hall of Fame voters last year. For some reason, it seems, third-basemen have a harder time making the cut than players at other positions.

JS: I would say that it’s the most difficult position to get in, but my dad’s earned a spot in Cooperstown, primarily because he was the best at his position in his era, in the National League. Brooks Robinson, who was probably the greatest fielding third baseman, said my dad was the first person he voted for.

We’re not politicking for him in This Old Club. It’s the guys who played with him, saying his stats say he should be in. I heard Rob Dibble on the radio this morning say, “If you dominate your position for 10 years, you’re in,” and he did that.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that three guys from that team are already in (Banks, Billy Williams, Ferguson Jenkins, as well as Durocher), and they may not want a fourth.

MCN: This Old Club has already played 17 weeks in Chicago. Is this the Big Fat Greek Wedding for baseball fans?

JS: Greek Wedding was on 1,000 screens at one time. The most we’ve ever been on is six.

We rely on getting word-of-mouth going, and that’s what the JDRF benefit premieres accomplish. All of the proceeds of the premieres -- and some of the profits -- go to JDRF.

MCN: Baseball movies have done pretty well, lately. Were any of the studios interested in distributing This Old Club.

JS: A lot of people in Hollywood said, “Only Cubs fans are going to want to see this film.” They were wrong. We went with a small, independent distributor, Ira Deutchman’s Emerging Pictures, and we stayed the course. They’re doing a great job.

I wouldn’t want to see it be made into a movie of the week, or have to find three different actors to play my dad.

MCN: Maybe the studio guys missed last year’s playoffs, when 99 percent of all baseball fans were rooting for a Cubs-Red Sox world series.

JS: Even if the movie would have appealed only to Cubs fans, though, do you know how many of them there are out there? There’s probably 5 million of them. It’s a demographic of its own.

Baseball is universal, and the Cubs’ reach is huge. This is a human interest story. The story is bigger than baseball.

MCN: You’ve been in L.A. for 10 years. Isn’t it time to be a Dodgers fan?

JS: C’mon ... c’mon.

June 30, 2004

- by Gary Dretzka