What Ryne Sandberg Meant to This Baseball-Loving Child of the 80s

July 29, 2025

What Ryne Sandberg Meant to This Baseball-Loving Child of the 80s

Monday night, I read the words I did not want to read yet knew were coming — Ryne Sandberg, my favorite player of all time, had passed on.

When Sandberg sent his most recent Instagram post on July 16, one sentence sounded way, way too familiar.

“While I am continuing to fight, I’m looking forward to making the most of every day with my loving family and friends.”

Those words landed in my brain with an ominous thud. Cancer also claimed my father, 22 years ago almost to the day. In his final few days, Dad also focused on making the most of every day with his loving family and friends.

Last week, when I was covering the seven-game Texas leg of the Athletics’ 10-game road trip, Athletics radio color man Steve Sax — himself a retired second baseman — asked me about Sandberg’s health. I told him, “Not good.” Then I told him what I read and said something to the effect of having a feeling Ryno was on borrowed time. Steve, of course, was very sorry to hear that. He enjoyed competing against him and had nothing bad to say about him.

The Stinging Revelation

Sandberg revealed in January of 2024 that he was fighting metastatic prostate cancer. Seven months later, he announced he was cancer-free. But in December, he announced that it had returned. And July 16, he made the aforementioned Instagram post.

Both Jon Morosi (MLB Network) and Jayson Stark (The Athletic) mentioned on X (formerly Twitter) Monday that Sandberg’s health cast a pall over Hall of Fame Induction Weekend in Cooperstown, New York. Wade Boggs, Sandberg’s fellow member of the Hall of Fame Class of 2005, even broke into tears when Ryno’s name came up during an interview with Morosi. According to Morosi, “Boggs looked toward the sky, tears streaming down. ‘Take care of him, Lord.’”

Knowing it was coming did not make the news sting any less. Ryne Sandberg played a role in my deep love for the game of baseball. I would not be a baseball journalist if I did not love baseball, just as I would not be a journalist if I did not love writing or reporting.

An Eight-Year-Old Boy Falls in Love with the Game of Baseball

A neighbor got me interested in baseball when I was eight years old. Living in Glendale, Arizona in 1988, I did not yet have a local major league team. But for 81 days in the summer — usually at 11:15 am, and after August 8 of that year, sometimes at 5 pm — I could turn on WGN and the Chicago Cubs game would be starting. And quickly I grew to admire their second baseman, whose name was one of the first three I memorized. (Andre Dawson and Mark Grace were the other two.)

What drew my attention to Sandberg was the way he played and the way he acted while doing so. Obviously, he was a master of his craft, his footwork, glovework, and range at second base making the position look easy. His hitting and his speed made him a perennial All-Star. Like virtually every other baseball fan through the decades, I could imitate batting stances and pitching motions from around the league, but Sandberg’s was the first one I mastered. Short strokes with the toe to dig into the box, half of a practice swing, then bring the bat back near the right shoulder and look at the pitcher while moving the bat in a small clockwise circle. As he waited for the pitch, he always had a hint of a smile on his face, showing me how much he enjoyed playing baseball.

Grace, Dignity, Class, and Respect

Ryne Sandberg played the game with grace, dignity, class, and respect. When he ran out a home run — something he did 282 times, with more than 200 of those coming since I began watching him — he put his head down like he had done it before. He had that same hint of a smile on his face while jogging around the bases. It was easy to tell he was having fun, but he also wasn’t showboating. Even when taking a curtain call, he did so with gratitude to the fans and nothing more. When I started playing baseball, every coach I ever had told us to have fun but treat our opponents and our teammates with respect. Several of them pointed to Sandberg as an example of how to do so.

I always strove to play the game with grace, dignity, class, and respect, just like Sandberg. During my brief time as a coach, I taught my players to play with grace, dignity, class, and respect. My players were too young to really know about Sandberg, so I made sure to mention him and the way he played. When Sandberg made it to Cooperstown, he made “respect” the theme of his induction speech, to no one’s surprise.

A Meeting 35 Years in the Making

Fast forward to 2023, when I was in Cooperstown covering my second Hall of Fame induction. After the conclusion of the Saturday ceremony at the opera house north of town, the one honoring the award recipients who don’t speak at the Sunday induction ceremony, I was speaking to Jayson Stark, who is a good friend of mine. As we spoke, I glanced to my left, and there he was, a few feet away — Sandberg. “Oh my gosh,” I quietly said to Jayson. “Ryne Sandberg’s over there. He’s my favorite player of all time. I’d introduce myself, but I’m afraid I’ll either be unable to speak or will start rambling.” Jayson, who had known Sandberg almost as long as I had been alive, said he’d introduce me and assured me I’d be fine.

We walked over there, and I stood a few feet away. Jayson walked up to Sandberg, said a few words, then motioned for me to come over. He introduced us, and I looked Sandberg in the eye. Ryno smiled humbly, and we shook hands. I told him how nice it was to meet him. Then I told him how much I admired the grace, dignity, class, and respect he played with, how I loved that he played the game the right way. I added that I strove to play the same way and tried to pass that on to my players during my brief time coaching.

A Great Compliment

Sandberg gave the same humble and gracious smile I had seen him display on television so many times, then thanked me and told me how much it meant for me to say that. I told him I insisted (well, to the extent a 10-year-old can insist) on playing second base when I started playing even though I was long and lanky like an outfielder or corner infielder. When I told him I got moved to center field and first base in my teen years, we shared a laugh. He asked if I started playing better defense after that. I put my head down. “Yes,” I softly admitted. We laughed again. Then Jayson took a photo of Ryno and me that has since become one of my most cherished photos.

We spoke for another minute or two. Before we parted ways, Ryno told me that the Arizona Diamondbacks, whom I covered at the time, were having a nice season. Then he gave what, from Ryno, is the greatest possible compliment: “They play baseball the way it is meant to be played.” He went on to describe how much he enjoyed watching them play small ball and use their speed to their advantage, whether it be with stealing bases, bunting for base hits, or going first-to-third on singles. I asked him if it was alright to tell Diamondbacks manager Torey Lovullo that he had said this. His exact words? “Please do.” When I did a few days later, Torey thanked me for doing so.

What a Legacy

That was the only time I got to talk to Ryne Sandberg. But I will never forget meeting him, nor will I forget the grace, dignity, class, and respect that he played the game with. Baseball has lost an icon, a Hall of Famer, an ambassador for the game, and a class act. But we will never forget his legacy.

Rest easy, Ryno. This baseball-loving child of the 80s, like the others, thanks you.