Ever since Harry Caray died -- God rest his Budweiser soul -- the Chicago Cubs have stuck a "guest conductor" in the Wrigley Field TV booth for the seventh-inning stretch and hoped for the best. That was three years ago. I don't want to say it's time to bag-and-tag the idea, but this week's list of candidates is Point Given, the secretary of commerce for Bolivia, and the cast of The Geena Davis Show. Alan Thicke must have been unavailable.

Still, there was a moment during last Thursday's rendition of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" that almost made these last few seasons of off-key crooning worthwhile. Chip Caray, Harry's grandson and WGN-TV's play-by-play man, sang his Georgia heart out, begged the Cubs to score some runs and then added a little something for America to ponder: "And let's get Ron Santo into the Hall of Fame."

Now that's music to the ears.

The sweetheart Santo, stationed in the nearby WGN radio booth, probably got a lump in his throat the size of a baseball. Santo is the Cubs' color analyst, which means he spends most of his days saying, "Oh, no!" or, muttering, "Boy, oh, boy," as the Cubs continue work on their newest 100-year rebuilding plan. He is a natural in the booth, Homer Simpson-esque in some of his remarks, true to his feelings ... the kind of guy you wouldn't mind sitting next to at the corner bar.

But before he did the broadcasting thing, Santo spent 15 seasons in the big leagues, 14 of them as the Cubs' third baseman. All he did was go to the All-Star Game nine of those 15 seasons and earn five Gold Gloves. During a 13-year stretch Santo averaged 25 home runs, 96 RBIs and 156 games. He led the National League in walks four times -- is that any good?

He finished his career with a .277 batting average, 342 homers and 1,331 RBIs, which should have been more than enough to earn him an invitation to Cooperstown. But it didn't. Maybe it was because he played on the same team as Billy Williams and Ernie Banks, both of whom have plaques in the Hall. Maybe it was because the Cubs were the Cubs, winners of zilch, gaggers of a 9 1/2-game lead to the Miracle Mets of 1969. Maybe it was because the voters started comparing him to Brooks Robinson, or later, Mike Schmidt.

Thing is, Santo was the Robinson of the National League. He might not have been as spectacular a defensive player, but he was as sure-handed as someone working on the bomb squad. Since he left in 1973, the Cubs have gone through 16 different Opening Day third basemen.

And so what if he wasn't the best player on his team? He batted cleanup, didn't he? Anyway, there's no shame in sharing Wrigley Field marquee space with Mr. Cub and Mr. Williams. During the '60s Santo led the Cubs in batting average three times to Williams' two, tied Banks as annual team leader in home runs, and led the Cubs in RBIs in six of those 10 years. You can look it up.

His numbers might not mean much in this era of Creatine and roto-stats, but remember this: Santo played during a time when the mound was higher than Jimi Hendrix and pitchers routinely had earned run averages lower than pi. There was no Coors Field to fatten up the average, no home-run-derby Enron Field, no Miller Park jet stream. Expansion hadn't diluted the pitching talent. The ball wasn't tighter than a Pamela Anderson tank top. And back then, you usually called it quits before your skills eroded like California coastline.

After failing to get more than 75% of the vote over a 15-year period (never finishing higher than third), Santo was dropped from the ballot of the Baseball Writers Association of America, but will be eligible for consideration by the 14-person Veterans Committee beginning next year. That means Hank Aaron, Juan Marichal, Ted Williams, Yogi Berra and Stan Musial, among others -- Santo's peers -- will judge his career. They know that Santo, who has battled diabetes for most of his adult life, played hard, played hurt, played at a level worthy of an induction ceremony.

Santo dotes on his kids and his grandson. He helped raise more than $3 million for diabetes research last year. But baseball is his life. Even now, nearly 30 seasons removed from wearing a Cubs uni, Santo will mope in the clubhouse after a loss.

If the old-timers have a heart and a conscience (and with Hall of Fame newspaperman Jerome Holtzman on the committee, they will), Santo will finally get the call he deserves. If not, there's only one thing you can say ...

Oh, no!

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail Geno at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.