Remembering Ryno

When you reach my age, you start to realize that you’re much closer to the finish line than you are the starting block. And sadly, that means people you know – and some you wish you’d known – finish the race before you want it to end.

That’s what happened on Monday when the great Ryne Sandberg died.

Prostate cancer took the Baseball Hall of Famer at age 65, and I feel like I lost a friend … a friend who was just a year older than me.

Dammit.

See, Sandberg is responsible for me morphing from a mostly casual baseball fan into a baseball fanatic.

By way of background, it’s important to note that I’m not a lifelong baseball fan. When I was a young kid, all I cared about was football. Then I discovered basketball. And before I was 10, soccer entered the picture.

My only memory of baseball then was seeing my dad sit in front of the ol’ RCA Victor, watching Curt Gowdy and Joe Garagiola call the NBC Game of the Week on Saturday afternoons.

But by the time I reached my tweens, I figured it was past time that I gave a little attention to the National Pastime.

Pop had been a Yankees fan until the Braves moved from Milwaukee to Atlanta in 1966, but I liked to pretend I was a New Yorker, so they were my favorite American League team.

In the National League, however, I cast my lot with the Chicago Cubs. There was a book in my grammar school library called Mr. Cub by Jim Enright, and the story of Ernie Banks compelled me to cheer on his team.

Before long, I was soaking up every bit of knowledge I could about the game, with baseball’s Mr. Sunshine serving as my guiding light.

Now, let’s jump to the 1980s.

Most of the Braves’ games were on WTBS and the Cubs were a staple of WGN, and one of my favorite things was to watch a Cubs-Braves series with my dad. He’d root for guys like Dale Murphy, Bob Horner and Chris Chambliss, and I was rocking a blue cap with a baby bear on it and supporting Leon Durham, Jody Davis – and especially No. 23.

It was a friendly competition between us – as well as quality time – so no matter which team lost, I always felt like I won.

And while I usually cringe when I hear the words “athlete” and “hero” lumped together in the same sentence, Ryno seemed heroic to me. He was a great player, certainly – a magnet-gloved second baseman who always seemed destined for Cooperstown.

Beyond that, though, he seemed like a really good dude. He wasn’t just one of the best in baseball, he was the best of us.

Once when we were watching together, Pop turned to me and said, “I don’t care who your team is – you gotta like Ryne Sandberg.”

Even though I never played organized baseball a day in my life, Ryno made me wish I had.

Yet, as much as I enjoyed watching him ply his trade at Wrigley Field, it was old Fulton County Stadium where I got to see him play in person.

I still remember it.

The first time came on August 31, 1984, when the Cubs and Braves met on a Friday night in Atlanta. The Braves won, 3-2, with Murphy (another one of my favorite players) driving in the game-winning run with a one-out single in the ninth.

But I got my money’s worth in the top of the first inning.

After Bob Dernier flied out to open the game, Sandberg stepped up to the plate against Tony Brizzolara and blasted his 18^th home run of the season, a dinger to deep left field that sent my voice soaring and my beer splashing.

I had long wanted to be in the stands for a Sandberg game, and the fact that I got to witness him knock one out of the park made the evening perfect – even if the Cubs were on the short end of the scoreboard.

When he was done that year, the man who ultimately claimed National League MVP honors had a .314 batting average with 19 homers, 36 doubles, 19 triples, 84 RBI and 32 stolen bases.

Over the years, I was on hand for several other visits Sandberg made to Atlanta. I saw more crucial hits, more good fielding plays – more of the best he had to offer.

And his best was better than most.

His last year as a player was 1997, and by then I was already 10 years into my newspaper career. At that point, most of the baseball games I saw were through the lens of a writer instead of a fan.

Sandberg hit .285 with 282 home runs, 1,061 runs batted in and 344 steals in 15 seasons with Chicago.

He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 2005, and at the time held the record for most Gold Glove Awards by a second baseman (nine), most consecutive errorless games by a second sacker (123), and the most home runs hit from that position (277 of his 282 homers came while playing second).

Despite being a sports writer who strived to be objective, I never stopped being a fan of Ryne Sandberg, both as a player and as a person.

I never got to know him personally, but I miss him as though I did.

We should all be so lucky to leave that kind of legacy.