Watcing the Chicago Cubs lose to the Brewers last night when word came over the broadcast that Ryne Sandberg, the Cubs superstar second baseman had died, succumbing to cancer.
Hit me harder than I would have thought imaginable. Not sure exactly why, but guessing it’s because Sandberg represented an era in my life when life itself seemed simpler, more sane, and as true as a line drive cleanly smacked to the outfiled.
I’m probably deluding myself with those thoughts, but that’s how it struck me last night.
Sandberg played baseball. He was a great at what he did. By all accounts he was genuinely kind to others. That’s all we should ever aspire to because in the end that’s all that matters.
And it is more than enough.
You can find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above.
Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3 