
Remembering Ryno: A Eulogy for My Hero
Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. I find comfort in the truth of those words even though I remain gutted by the fact that my hero just died. We’ve known for some that this eventuality was approaching much sooner than any of us wanted to believe, yet the news still hit like a fastball to the solar plexus. He was too young, still had so much life left to live.
Fuck cancer.
Ryne Sandberg was a hero to a generation of Chicago Cubs fans and will be remembered as one of the all-time greats in nearly 150 years of this historic franchise,” Ricketts said. “His dedication to and respect for the game, along with his unrelenting integrity, grit, hustle, and competitive fire were hallmarks of his career. He was immensely proud of his teammates and his role as a global ambassador of the game of baseball, but most of all, he was proud of Margaret, his children and his role as husband, father and grandfather.
– Statement from Tom Ricketts
Ryne Dee Sandberg was born September 18, 1959 in Spokane, Washington, named for a former Yankees reliever whose unique moniker would eventually become much more popular. Sandberg grew into a multisport star at North Central High School, turning down a scholarship to play quarterback at Washington State in order to pursue his baseball dreams.
He opted to join the Phillies despite being selected in the 20th round of the 1978 draft, a spot that I can only imagine carried a pretty insignificant bonus. Other notable picks from that year included future Cubs teammate Mike Morgan (No. 4 overall), World Series icon Kirk Gibson (No. 12), a guy named Cal Ripken Jr. (No. 48), and the infamous Eric Show (No. 447). Ryno was selected 511th and worked his way to becoming one of only three Hall of Fame players drafted in the 20th round or later (John Smoltz, Mike Piazza).
Sandberg showed a little pop over parts of three seasons as a shortstop in the Phillies organization, then made his debut with the Phils in 1981. When Dallas Green went from Phillies manager to Cubs GM the following offseason, he made a franchise-altering trade by bringing Sandberg and Larry Bowa to Chicago in exchange for Ivan De Jesus. You know the history well enough for me to breeze past most of the details, but suffice to say, it worked out okay for Sandberg and the Cubs.
Primarily a third baseman on the North Side during the 1982 season, Sandberg batted .271 with a .683 OPS and seven homers to finish sixth in NL Rookie of the Year voting. His next season saw a slight offensive bump from an overall standpoint, and he won the first of what would eventually become nine straight Gold Gloves. The 1984 season cemented his place in baseball lore and made him a Cubs legend, with The Sandberg Game standing out as the catalyst for his MVP campaign.
That was also the first of his seven Silver Slugger awards, along with the first of his 10 consecutive trips to the All-Star Game. The seventh of those appearances came in 1990, when Sandberg led the league with 40 home runs and even won the Home Run Derby at Wrigley Field. He posted at least 7.0 WAR from 1990-92, but his power dropped off dramatically in 1993. You know you’re great when batting .309 with a .772 OPS is cause for concern.
Sandberg retired abruptly on June 14, 1994 — just three days before O.J. Simpson’s notorious white Bronco chase — amid personal and professional struggles. He still had $16 million remaining on a four-year, $28.4 million contract that made him the first player in MLB history with an annual salary of $7 million, but he chose to give up the money.
“I am certainly not the type of person who can ask the Cubs organization and the Chicago Cubs fans to pay my salary when I am not happy with my mental approach and my performance,” he said at the time.
After sitting out the strike-shortened 1995 season, Sandberg regained his love for the game and rejoined the Cubs for two more years. Though his final seasons lacked the gaudy numbers and public accolades from his prime, his return was a study in resilience and loyalty. It’s what cemented him as my favorite player of all time, though he probably would have been that regardless.
Ryne Sandberg was a legend of the Chicago Cubs franchise and a beloved figure throughout Major League Baseball. He was a five-tool player who excelled in every facet of the game thanks to his power, speed and work ethic. Ryne earned 10 consecutive All-Star selections, nine straight Gold Gloves, seven Silver Sluggers and 1984 National League MVP honors.
– Statement from MLB commissioner Rob Manfred
You see, the weird thing about Ryno is that he looked like my dad. Like, a lot. So when you’re a kid who grew up with what I can honestly say are the best male role models ever — no disrespect to any others — it’s pretty easy to look up to a ballplayer who closely resembles one of them. My grandfathers were the two best men I’ve ever known, other than my dad. A farmer who would be in the fields before dawn and would stay out well past midnight to get the harvest done, my dad knew what it was like to sacrifice for his family.
My brother and I would spend big chunks of the summer in the cab of a tractor or combine, listening to the Cubs on WGN or John Fogerty’s Centerfield album. When my grandpap retired from farm labor, we’d lie prone on his living room floor and devour sleeves of Saltine crackers while watching Sandberg and his teammates every afternoon. Maybe your circumstances were different, but there’s a strong thread connecting millions of us who grew up during that time.
At the risk of contradicting myself, I would like to amend my previous statement about what cemented Ryno’s legacy for me. Sure, his was the first jersey I ever bought. It was at Wrigley during a doubleheader against the Braves on July 22, 1997, and Greg Maddux tossed a 78-pitch complete game in the first half. I still have that jersey, wore it last night after I got the news. But what really brought the weight of this man’s impact on me home was the birth of my son: Ryne David Altman.
When I first held him in the hospital room, I carried him over to the TV to watch a DVD of The Sandberg Game that I’d cued up to the best part(s). I think my son may have taken things harder than I did; you know it’s serious when a 16-year-old boy gives his dad an unsolicited hug. Probably nothing more than coincidence that he played the best baseball I’ve ever seen from him this past weekend, complete with a one-hit complete game on the mound and a fly ball that would have left the yard had it not been hit to the deepest part of the park.
My son and I were at Wrigley to see Sandberg’s statue unveiled, thus giving him a whole lot of bronze to go with all the gold and silver he’d collected as a player. Ryno went into the Hall the Sunday after my wife and I were married. Speaking of which, we’ll celebrate our 20th anniversary tomorrow. My brother and I were at his jersey retirement on August 28, 2005, less than a month after the wedding. I had purchased tickets online, but we decided to upgrade when our dad gave us $50 apiece before we headed to the game.
Guessing that the No. 23 flag would be raised on the right field foul pole, we went to the broker from which I’d bought the original tickets and found a pair right on the side wall. It was an awesome day, and I think it may have been my brother’s first time back at Wrigley in several years. I won’t ask him to confirm it, better to keep facts from getting in the way of a good story.
I got the opportunity to meet Sandberg several times, both individually and with my son. The most recent of those came at a local baseball camp put on by the coach of the high school team where Ryno’s grandson played ball. This was the same day news broke of Shohei Ohtani‘s Dodgers deal, a little more than a month before Sandberg shared his cancer diagnosis publicly. The man could not have been more gracious and humble in all the times I’ve encountered him.
One of those stands out in particular, perhaps because it was so mundane. I had been invited to a game with seats in the 1914 Club, and I was grabbing some food between innings when I saw Ryno at a nearby table. After waiting for a little break, I approached and let him know that I just wanted to come over and say hi because he was my favorite player and I’d named my son after him.
Ryno asked if my son was with me, and, after learning he wasn’t, the legend stood up and insisted we take a picture together to send back home. I know he was just doing his job as an ambassador and probably did the same thing for countless other schmucks like me who worshipped him for what he did with the Cubs. The man wasn’t just a great player, he was Atlas. Sandberg lifted an entire organization and fanbase on his shoulders for over 15 years, making us believe that maybe good things really were possible for us.
It took another two decades after his retirement for that to truly sink in, as evidenced by my repeating the phrase, “This was never supposed to happen” after the World Series win. But Ryno was like the North Star of what you want in a famous athlete. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen or heard people talk about how he was a strong exception to the adage that you should never meet your heroes.
There’s a lot more I could say about what he meant to me, to us, but what I’d really like is for as many people as possible to share their own recollection of Ryno in the comments. What stood out to you about his career or his life? What role did he play in your Cubs fandom?
Forever 23. pic.twitter.com/KLbURsHWMl
— Chicago Cubs (@Cubs) July 29, 2025
Godspeed, Ryno, you will be missed.