close
close

Ryne Sandberg reflects on ‘love, life, family and friends’ as Cubs unveil his statue outside Wrigley Field

Ryne Sandberg reflects on ‘love, life, family and friends’ as Cubs unveil his statue outside Wrigley Field

Cubs legend Ryne Sandberg set a number of goals when he was diagnosed with metastatic prostate cancer last winter. He wanted to throw out the first pitch at Wrigley Field and attend the dedication of his statue on the 40th anniversary of the “Sandberg Game.”

The Hall of Famer scored the first point at the home opener in April, and the second on Sunday when the Cubs unveiled the newest addition to Statue Row on Gallagher Way.

“That was a guarantee for me,” Sandberg said after the ceremony. “I kind of went back to my baseball days where I had goals and my mindset and worked toward something every day. That’s what I did. So it worked.”

An hour before the ceremony began, the area in front of the stage was already packed with fans. And when the blue curtain fell, the crowd was gathered along the side of Wrigley Field.

The bronze figure before them – the fifth in a row that also includes Hall of Famers Ernie Banks, Fergie Jenkins, Ron Santo and Billy Williams – stood in a defensive position, his weight resting on the balls of his feet and his hands outstretched in front of him, ready for anything that might come his way.

“Defense was very important to me,” Sandberg said. “For me, it meant bringing the glove every day. You can get into hitting slumps, but as far as defense goes, as long as I did my pregame preparation, I wanted to play defense every day for the pitcher and for everyone on the field.”

Sandberg pointed out the flip-up sunglasses, buttonless pullover jersey, elastic waistband, stirrups and gold patch on the statue’s glove as a nod to his nine Gold Glove Awards.

“For me, the statue reflects baseball in the ’80s and ’90s,” said Sandberg, who also won seven Silver Slugger Awards, was a ten-time All-Star and was named National League MVP in 1984.

He had asked his shortstops Larry Bowa and Shawon Dunston to speak at the ceremony – “The relationship between the second baseman and the shortstop is very important.” And instead of talking about the many awards Sandberg had collected, they focused on the person.

They pointed to his work ethic, intensity and mental toughness. Bowa recounted Sandberg’s reaction to a teammate saying, “Hang in there, that’s how you get it done,” toward the end of a 1-for-32 series early in Sandberg’s first full major league season: “Hang in there. I’m sick of them always catching those line drives.”

Bowa and Dunston told stories about Sandberg, the joker and instigator the media and public didn’t often see. Bowa would always yell “Ryno, you got room” when a pop-up appeared between them, so when Sandberg became the veteran who took Dunston under his wing, he adopted the phrase.

Dunston described it in his speech as the Gold Glove second baseman encouraging the young shortstop to make as many popups as possible because “there are no bad pops in the air” and this would improve his fielding percentage.

“He taught me little things about the game,” Dunston said. “He wanted me to always focus on the game.”

The current Cubs team leaned over the railing of the stairs that zigzag up the facade of Wrigley Field and the platform it leads to, watching and listening. In full uniform, they had incorporated the ceremony into their pregame routine.

“Look around up there,” said sportscaster Bob Costas, who commentated on the 1984 Sandberg Game, as he took the microphone to speak. “That’s respect.”

The team was there to hear the best second baseman in Cubs history speak to the crowd.

“When I first learned of this incredible honor 18 months ago, I thought a lot about what I would say about the significance of this day, about this franchise, about the amazing 1984 season and about a magical day in June about 20 – er, about 40 years ago,” he said, pausing for a laugh.

And after a few jabs at his teammates, suggesting that they looked even older than they were, Sandberg’s tone became more serious.

“My life changed a lot in 1984, but that’s nothing compared to what happened six months ago,” he said. “So my thoughts today are more about love, life, family and friends.”

How fitting, then, that his grandchildren pressed the big red button that set the unveiling in motion. The curtain fell. Confetti flew. Mist shot out of a machine.

There stood Sandber’s bronze image, on tiptoe, ready for the next throw.