Ryne Sandberg's style was simple: No noise, no theatrics, just professionalism.
That's the way he played the game and the way he left it Monday.
If Ryne had his way, he'd have slipped out of the Chicago Cubs' clubhouse Sunday night, switching off the lights as he closed the door.
When you're only 34 years old and the best second baseman of your era, there are hundreds of games left and millions of dollars waiting. Sandberg could have hung around for a few more years. But he was convinced he no longer could play to his standards, so he retired.
Can you imagine giving up a chance to earn as much as $ 18 million because you didn't think you were earning it? At a time when players are seen as greedy and overpaid, you have to respect Sandberg's decision.
Mike Schmidt, the best third baseman of his day, did the same thing. He was older than Sandberg, but he knew his talents were eroding in 1990 and it was time to walk away. Schmidt's decision was shocking but not quite as much as Sandberg's.
"Physically, I feel pretty good," Sandberg said at his news conference. "But it takes more than physical ability to go out and play major league baseball. And with the standards I have for myself, it definitely takes more than that."
What obviously accelerated his decision was a big difference in philosophy with the Tribune Co., which owns the Cubs and has let the franchise decay.
The Cubs have lost nine of their last 10 games and are last in the National League Central with no prospects of improving. Plus, Sandberg had differences with manager Tom Trebelhorn, so rather than be a malcontent, he walked away.
Sandberg has been unhappy the Cubs let pitcher Greg Maddux and Andre Dawson leave as free agents after the 1992 season and have done little to strengthen the team.
When you cannot change the situation, you change your attitude. When you cannot do the latter, you leave. In Sandberg's case, he decided to go quietly rather than sit on the bench and turn his situation into a media circus. When you've won nine Gold Gloves and are a certain Hall of Famer, there's no better way.
Sandberg, son of a Spokane, Wash., mortician, never let his emotions show. As he said Monday, when it is no longer fun - he was batting only .238 with one hit in his last 28 at-bats - you should leave.
In a sense, that's why Sandberg left the Philadelphia Phillies, the team he came up with.
"I recognized my situation with the Phillies," he said once. "I was behind Larry Bowa, Manny Trillo and Mike Schmidt - three All-Stars. I wasn't going to beat them out, not at that time anyway."
Dallas Green, who as minor league director had followed Sandberg closely in the Phillies' system, took over as Cubs general manager after the 1981 season. Green, now managing the New York Mets, had been taught when you make a trade, hold out for a "throw-in" player to complete the deal.
So, when Green started rebuilding the Cubs, his first major deal was with the Phillies Jan. 27, 1982. It was shortstop Ivan DeJesus for Bowa. The throw-in was Sandberg.
Sandberg grew up as a shortstop, and when he went to Chicago, only one of his 13 big-league games had been at second base. Cubs manager Lee Elia used him at third base for 133 games in '82. In 1983, he played 157 games at second base and was on his way to becoming a star.
It didn't take long. In 1984, as the Cubs were en route to the NL East title, Sandberg had a streak of 47 games without an error at second.
That year, Sandberg became the first Cubs player since Ernie Banks to win the NL MVP and his standard was established.
Monday, he decided he couldn't reach that level anymore, swallowed hard and called it a career. And a great one, at that.
