Jan. 24--Chicago, the great Nelson Algren wrote in "City on the Make," is an outlaw's capital, a town with hustler's blood, a town of bone-deep grudges, "a backstreet, backslum loudmouth."
It's true, Chicago was, maybe still is, all that. And yet it had room for one perpetually cheerful grand optimist, Ernie Banks. If you haven't reached middle age, you weren't alive when Banks retired in 1971 after 19 seasons with the Cubs. You never saw him play. That's no matter. If you're any kind of baseball fan, any kind of Chicago fan, you know exactly who Ernie Banks was and how he carried himself and what he meant to this city.
Hustler's blood? Not in Algren's sense, but yes Ernie Banks had the blood of a hustler: He scored 1,305 runs and drove in 1,636 runs and played in 2,528 major league games.
Nineteen seasons without a World Series appearance, let alone a championship, branded him in the eyes of many people as the symbol of Cubs disappointment, yes. He wanted none of that. He loved that team, loved its fans, loved its home field, loved this city.
You know Banks had to feel the immense pressure of being the first black player on the Cubs when he moved over from the Negro Leagues six years after Jackie Robinson broke baseball's color barrier. You know Banks had to feel the crushing disappointment of 1969, the year of the Cubs' epic late-season collapse, as his own skills were ebbing. And yet everyone who knew him, from lifelong friends to met-him-on-the-elevator acquaintances, says the same thing. That uncommon enthusiasm, not just for the Cubs, for life, poured out of him.
The Cubs are said to be poised for a revival this year. (What? You've heard that before?) If it happens -- OK, we'll borrow a touch of Banks: when it happens this year -- there will be some wistful moments because Ernie Banks won't be here. Those moments, they'll be brief. Ernie Banks wouldn't have time for wistful.
