Typical. "I don't know what it feels like to be considered among the greatest who ever lived and I don't know if I ever will," said Ryne Sandberg to a Chicago reporter, after learning he was elected to the Hall of Fame. "I have too much respect for the game and for the players who played it before me to think anything like that."
Now you know how the best second baseman of his time took it when he got the call he probably should have had sooner, but doesn't object to getting a little later.
"There's been some tremendous players who had to wait longer than I had to wait," he said during a conference call following the word of his election. "I don't think it diminishes the honor at all. You're either in the Hall of Fame or not."
Few players were more inappropriately named than Sandberg. While not quite as incongruous as the nickname affixed to Harmon Killebrew — some still marvel that such a gentle man could have been nicknamed the Killer — no less comparable fellow could have been named after a hellion of a Yankee relief pitcher.
On the other hand, this son of a mortician who seemed in dire need of gunpoint to loosen up in the limelight turned out to be a classic clubhouse practical joker, many a Cub having testifying to Sandberg having been as deft with the hotfoot as he was with the extra base hit or the improbably yard shot.
They still talk about — and, in ESPN Classic's case, show periodically — the game of June 23, 1984. The Cubs and the St. Louis Cardinals were going at it in their usual style. (Put it this way: The Israelis versus the Palestinians may be subtler.) In the game for the Cardinals was Bruce Sutter, a former Cub, whom Sandberg concurs should join him in the Hall of Fame. At the plate, in the bottom of the ninth, was Sandberg.
He measured Sutter appropriately and tied the game with a blast into the left field seats. Then, in the 10th inning, Sutter still in the game, Sandberg returned to the plate and bombed another game-tier into the seats.
The Cubs never got beyond a National League Championship Series with Sandberg as their best player, and it wasn't exactly his fault. Ten lifetime postseason games, all in the LCS, and he has a .457 on-base percentage, almost half his hits for extra bases (7 out of 15), a .641 slugging percentage.
Sandberg thinks his defense was his key to Cooperstown. He's only half right. Not that many would remember him too vividly with the glove, if only because — as at least one Chicago columnist (would this be a Cub going to the Hall of Fame without at least one Chicago columnist finding an excuse for buncombe?) sniped — he was not a human highlight film and never turned up with a dirty uniform.
Neither a flying Wallenda nor a grinding Gus, Sandberg earned a rather unfair image among some as being a lot less in the field than he should have been. Well, now. He also earned nine consecutive Gold Gloves. Sandberg's lifetime fielding average at second base was nine points higher than his league, and his range factor was 63 points higher.
As a hitter, Sandberg may have been robbed because of his lineup position. So might Mark Grace, in fact. Bill James pointed it out first, so far as I know, but it makes only too perfect sense. Sandberg, batting second with the hitting skills of a number three hitter, probably lost a decent number of chances to drive in runs; Grace, batting third with the hitting skills of a number two hitter, probably lost a decent number of chances to create and score runs.
Sandberg did get turned into a number three hitter for a couple of years ... and his seasonal RBI totals jumped above his norm to that point. Sandberg also has the ninth lowest percentage of home runs with men on base among those with 200+ lifetime home runs. Would he have reversed that entirely had he been batted third for more than a couple of seasons?
It is not impossible to suggest that, if Cub managers had allowed themselves to at least poke their heads above the top of the box, never mind think entirely outside, Sandberg would probably have put up more overwhelming batting statistics and not had to wait three years for the Hall of Fame, and Grace might become a Hall of Famer at all.
(No, Sandberg wasn't strictly a Wrigley hitter, not in terms of the park dimensions. He didn't quite hit as well on the road as he did in the Confines, but, by his own admission, the operative factor was probably the day game factor: to this day Sandberg will tell you he saw the ball far better in daylight.)
But Sandberg's performance papers as they are make argument enough on his behalf. This gently handsome fellow, who had an endearing "Who, me?" look on his face whenever he was compelled to a curtain call, did not have to be Mr. Excitement. He did nothing but play the game the right way. Cub fans still feel blessed to have had him at all, never mind for 16 seasons. Any baseball fan should feel likewise.
Leave a Comment