By Rick Morrissey

Chicago Tribune

Don’t feel bad. In fact, if it doesn’t seem too out of place while Ron Santo goes through his regularly scheduled appointment with disappointment, attempt a small smile. It’s OK.

For better, not worse, Santo is the epitome of what it means to be a Chicago Cub and a Cubs fan. This is what he is supposed to be. There probably is a higher calling in life, maybe lots of them, but this one has some elevation to it.

The people who loyally follow this baseball team need to be able to point to someone and say: “There. That fellow over there. The one who seems to be attempting to chuckle through the tears. That’s us.”

Dogged. Resilient. And usually in some stage of grief.

In the eyes of others, it looks a lot like futility. In the eyes of outsiders, it might look silly and more than a tad schmaltzy. But it’s not. There’s something noble about it.

Still the nagging question: Why can’t they see what we see?

It’s the question we Santo-ites have asked ourselves for years, and it’s the question we were asking Monday when he again was denied entry into the Hall of Fame.

This is not about our eyesight. We see a player who was a great player during the 1960s and half the ’70s. Santo hit .277 and 342 home runs, knocked in 1,331 runs, was a nine-time All-Star and won five Gold Gloves. No, our eyes are fine.

This is about the eyes of the 64 members of the Hall of Fame Veterans Committee. Santo received 60.9 percent of the ballots cast. He needed at least 75 percent.

Is there an optometrist in the house?

And, no, this isn’t a matter of having our heads in the sand behind third base, either. We’ve asked for the facts to be given to us straight. We’ve looked them in the face. This isn’t a sentimental journey. Think what you want about Santo as a Cubs broadcaster, but separate it from his playing career. During one of the best eras for pitching in baseball history, he distinguished himself against the likes of Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Juan Marichal, Bob Gibson and Tom Seaver.

If you’re of a certain age span, then you know how good Santo was. That’s the bewildering thing about Monday’s results. Many of the voters on the Veterans Committee did play against Santo.

How could so many people be so wrong, and how could they be so wrong over and over again?

And it’s not just former players. In other years, media members shot him down regularly when he was attempting to get into the Hall of Fame the traditional route. What shortcomings did these people see in Santo that we didn’t?

I prefer to see him my way. I prefer to see him hitting home runs, making diving stops at third and clicking his heels after a Cubs victory. I prefer to see him playing hard all the time.

Now, the man who represents all things Cub moves forward, with dignity.

We might not be able to make the blind see. But we won’t stop telling them they’re wrong.