By Tom Siebert
One cold April afternoon at Wrigley Field, I was among a throng of kids hovering over the third base wall, asking Ernie Banks for his autograph. But with each signing, Mr. Cub kept demurring, “I have to go. The game is about to start.” Thrusting my scorecard and pencil his way, I yelled, “Please, Ernie!” And he said smiling, “Okay. I’ll make ya happy.” And he did. For many years. Let’s play two tonight.