They Owe Sandberg A Little More

Sentiment was sure to find Ryne Sandberg eventually, if only by accident, if only as scheduled, if only with the keys to a shiny new, red Corvette.

Wrigley Field said its official goodbye to Sandberg Saturday and Sandberg to Wrigley Field, the whole place standing on ceremony, not the first time in tribute to Sandberg, but at least the next to last.

Sandberg was given a rousing final sendoff by the fans during Sunday’s home finale against the Phillies. He will still be the best second baseman anywhere in the Cubs organization.

“I have truly lived my field of dreams,” Sandberg said, “right here at Wrigley Field.”

Sandberg did not appear to blush when Harry Caray called him the greatest second baseman who ever lived or when Andy MacPhail compared him to Johnny Bench as a player who redefined the standards of the position he played.

These are things that get said on a day like this, a day proclaimed by Mayor Daley as Ryne Sandberg Day, which is an honor without a doubt, but another Chicago mayor once proclaimed Deborah Norville Day, so there are days and there are days.

This one Sandberg certainly deserved for being what he was to Chicago and to the Cubs, a decent, diligent man and the best Cub in the last quarter-century, Andre Dawson notwithstanding.

As with Sandberg’s career, the celebration never tipped over into the impetuous. It was awkward and cautious and brief.

“There have been good times and tough times,” Sandberg said. “The wind has been blowing in and the wind has been blowing out. But the one constant through it all have been the Chicago Cubs fans and they way they have always treated Ryne Sandberg.

“I only wish we could have shared a World Series together.”

He is not the first one, nor will he be the last, to express that regret, nor to refer to himself in the third person, but Sandberg is the single constant in what recent glory there has been for the Cubs, in ‘84, in ‘89.

Sandberg took his family on a formal farewell tour around the Friendly Confines, down the right-field line, across center field in the front of the ivy, back to home plate, not the first time Sandberg has been there either.

It may be as close as Sandberg ever got to Cub fans.

Sandberg will be remembered for being more than a second-half player on a first-half team, a luckless coincidence. But that is there, too, in the Sandberg career, his best moments coming when they mattered less. He will be remembered as a great fielding second baseman, and not a cautious and careful one.

Sandberg will be remembered as a great Cub, and so he should be. There are not enough of those.

The day was a nice gesture on the part of the Cubs, but it was also a kiss-off, never mind that MacPhail half promised to do this again in five years when Sandberg makes the Hall of Fame.

Sandberg may be back for that. MacPhail? We’ll see.

MacPhail and his general manager, Ed Lynch, were both booed when introduced. Impatience is always in good voice.

The tokens of appreciation presented to Sandberg were sincere - a trip to Vail from the players, the number 23 from the scoreboard, a painting of Wrigley Field, a seat from the bleachers, the Corvette.

But it was what was not given that was more conspicuous. Sandberg’s number was not retired, a simple and much more lasting gesture to make.

And there was no encouragement, out loud nor on paper, for Sandberg to ever have anything more to do with the Cubs.

That MacPhail and Lynch, who have done much less for the Cubs than Sandberg ever did, should not indulge Sandberg in so harmless and reasonable a way is unforgivable.

During his first retirement, Sandberg remained connected to the Cubs through a personal services agreement. He asked for another such arrangement, and did not get it.

This time Sandberg is as rootless as the cut roses his wife held during the ceremony.

He deserves more.