Remembering a Sandberg Summer
“God is giving me hope, positive attitude, and gratitude. God is Good!”
My childhood hero died this week after a lengthy battle with cancer. While I claim no right to grieve in the same way as his friends, teammates, or family, the sense of loss is nevertheless real. He was very much a part of my life.
Chicago Cubs Hall of Fame second baseman Ryne Sandberg holds considerable space in my young memory. Aside from him being my first celebrity crush, he cemented my love of baseball and all things Chicago Cubs. I can also thank him for inspiring the story through which I discovered my love of writing.
From early childhood, I understood that the best sort of summer afternoon is spent at Wrigley Field watching the Cubbies. I became a diehard fan in 1984, following the team obsessively through their heartbreaking post-season loss to the San Diego Padres. No one can be a true-blue Cubs fan without knowing the agony of defeat, and my 11-year-old self had now entered the ranks of the chronically disappointed.
Although I’m not remotely athletic, I played softball for several years of my youth because there wasn't much else to do in the Illinois cornfields during the summer. In June of 1986, I broke my arm in a collision at second base. Nobody wants to break a bone at the beginning of summer—a hot, sweaty cast and no swimming. Ugh!
With a newly broken arm, I didn’t refrain from playing the sympathy card, convincing my parents to take me to the annual Cubs Youth Clinic. My ultimate objective, probably like many other participants, was to meet Ryne Sandberg.
The clinic itself was enjoyable, and I even snatched a little souvenir from the famed outfield wall. But Ryno, as he was known to fans, didn’t make an appearance. My only hope was to find him at the players’ parking lot after the game. Armed with a Sharpie, I was determined.
When he finally appeared to a throng of screaming fans outside the ballpark, he reached for the marker I had thrust through the chain link fence and began to sign autographs. As he moved further down the line, away from me, I began to fear I would go home empty-handed. Sure, Ryno had my Sharpie, but what if I never got an autograph?
But my prayers were answered as he held up the marker and asked, “Whose is this?” My moment had arrived. I raised my casted arm and he approached. Asking me how I broke my arm, he paused as I shared about the collision at second base. He smiled, told me to feel better and signed my cast. All my wildest 13-year-old dreams had come true!
Several months later, that encounter inspired a short story entitled “Sandberg Summer," which opened the door for me to attend the Illinois Young Author’s Conference. The event gave me a taste of something different than the math and science path I hoped to pursue. While it took me a couple decades to realize I wanted to pursue writing professionally, I am grateful for the events that started me on that journey.
Placing human beings on pedestals often ends in disappoint, but I was fortunate not to experience that. Ryne Sandberg was the type of hero every young person should have. It is unusual for someone to remain so grounded after achieving Sandberg’s level of fame, but by all accounts, he lived a life of integrity, faith, kindness, and humility.
Many who grew up in Chicago in the 1980s are Cubs fans today because of Sandberg’s love for the game and sincere camaraderie with fans. This week I have enjoyed sharing memories, photos, and mementos with Cubs fan friends. Ryno leaves a lasting legacy of genuine goodness, and he will be missed by many.
‘Sometimes healing comes by waving the white flag of surrender when everyone else is telling you to stay in the fight.’
