Cubs fans’ eternal hope tempered by death of Ernie Banks

Tickets went on sale Monday for Big League Weekend, Cubs vs. A’s, at Cashman Field.

The Cubs are a squad filled with bright, young talent for a change, and they have a new manager known for molding young, bright talent into World Series contenders. Should it happen, it will be great for Cubs fans, especially for older, long-suffering Cubs fans.

It will be a little melancholy, too, because first Ron Santo, and now Ernie Banks won’t be around to see it.

The congenial slugger known as “Mr. Cub” died Friday of a heart attack, just eight days shy of his 84th birthday.

The Friendly Confines of Beautiful Wrigley Field — his expression — will be a little less friendly this season, because Ernie Banks won’t be around when the sun is shining on the new outfield bleachers. Even when it rained, and the grounds crew would put down the tarp, Ernie always would say, “Let’s Play Two.”

On Monday, an ideal day in Las Vegas for playing two, Cubs fans lined up early so they could get the best seats for Big League Weekend.

They also told Ernie Banks stories.

Kathy Stenberg, second in line, grew up in Logan Square on Chicago’s near northwest side. She and her partner sent away for Ernie Banks’ autograph on a bat commemorating the 100-year anniversary of Wrigley Field. It might take him a few months to get around it to, they were told. Ernie doesn’t sign autographs like he used to.

When the bat arrived months later, it arrived with a bonus photo of Mr. Cub signing it.

“Now, unfortunately, it’s worth a lot more,” Kathy Stenberg said solemnly.

Judy Lammert, of the village of Oak Park, Ill., said her dad took her to see Ernie Banks play for the first time in 1957. He would hit 43 home runs and drive in 102 that season. The next season it was 47 and 129. The year after that, 45 and 143. Then 41 and 117. And that was when the pitching was good.

“He was good for the Cubs,” long-suffering Cubs fan Judy Lammert said after purchasing a handful of Big League Weekend tickets. “He was good for baseball.”

As I type these words from the home office, there are two felt flags on the wall above the computer screen. They are replica retired number flags, like the ones flown on the foul poles at Wrigley Field. To the left is No. 10, for Ron Santo; to the right is No. 14, for Ernie Banks.

There’s a big Old Style beer tavern light with the Cubs logo on it between Ronnie’s and Ernie’s replica flags.

In Little League I had switched to first base, too, mostly because we had better hitters playing the middle infield positions, but also because Ernie Banks had switched from shortstop to first when his knees began to ache. My dad worked overtime at the steel mill so he could buy his son a new Wilson first baseman’s mitt. It was called “The Big Scoop.” It had Ernie Banks’ signature in the pocket.

I remember the way Ernie — nobody called him Banks — would cock his elbow at a 45-degree angle and waggle his slender fingers on the bat handle before the pitch, in the manner of Nat King Cole playing the piano. Ernie Banks loved Nat King Cole, as I recall.

When he died Friday, somebody put up an Ernie Banks tribute video on YouTube with “Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer” playing in the background.

I remember Ernie doing the Sunday night sports on TV while wearing an official yellow WGN blazer. That’s how big Ernie Banks was in Chicago: He’d get a couple of hits off Bob Gibson or Juan Marichal on Sunday afternoon, then stop by the studio to read the scores and show the highlights on his way home. Let’s see Derek Jeter try that.

On May 12, 1970, I remember running home from school so I wouldn’t miss Ernie Banks’ 500th home run.

I missed it.

Sister Margaret Mary was a White Sox fan.

He had hit it in the second inning, a line shot (as most of his homers were) into the bleachers off Pat Jarvis of the Braves. A lot of people missed it. There were only 5,264 paid spectators at Wrigley Field on that Tuesday afternoon.

People didn’t make such a big deal about milestones in Ernie Banks’ day, and the front office didn’t jack up ticket prices if you wanted to witness history. Ballplayers just went about their business, and sometimes at the end of the day they’d tip their hat.

A few years ago, I finally got to chat with Mr. Cub.

He was celebrating his 75th birthday in Las Vegas, and somebody who knew him gave me the number to his suite at the Palms. He’s expecting your call, I was told.

I had just turned 49. I was nervous when I dialed the phone.

We talked for a half-hour. Well, Ernie mostly talked, I mostly listened. I never got to ask the questions I had written down in advance. There was too much sunshine coming over the line.

When I heard that he had died, I went on YouTube to see if that home run Ernie had hit off Pat Jarvis was as I remembered it. Yup, line shot. Hardly anybody in the bleachers.

I also stumbled onto Hugh Wise’s 1953 scouting report on prospect Ernest Banks of Dallas, Tx. It said in Royal typewriter font that he had served two years in the military, that his strengths were “ability, all-around, outstanding arm, good hitter.”

Hugh Wise put down that Ernie Banks had “no outstanding weakness” as a ballplayer.

On the line that said “attitude,” he typed two words: “Very good.”

On the bottom line reserved for remarks, scout Hugh Wise highly recommended the Chicago National League ballclub purchase Ernie Banks’ contract from the Kansas City Monarchs as soon as possible, even if they had to pay $10,000.

Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski.