"Lost" in the News

On the same day that Ryne Sandberg was making news, my little book, Lost in the Ivy, also was making some news, albeit in a smaller way. Tim Shellberg wrote a nice piece about me and my book for The Times of Northwest Indiana, under the headline: "The not-so-friendly confines: Homewood-Flossmoor grad spins murder mystery out of Wrigleyville." Just click on the purple link to read the text of the story in its entirety.   

Ryno's Great 2nd Act

Who knew not only that Ryne Sandberg could speak, but that he could do so both eloquently and passionately.

In his playing days with the Chicago Cubs, Ryno always let his bat and his glove speak for him. He was not only the best second baseman ever to grace Wrigley Field for any length of time (Rogers Hornsby doesn't count, since he played only 3 years with the Cubs), but the best second baseman of his generation.

Sandberg's record speaks for itself. He hit 277 homers as a second baseman, the most in baseball history at the time of his retirement. In 1990, he played in his 123rd game at second without committing an error, a major league record. He was honored with 9 Gold Gloves and was a 10-time All-Star.  In 1984, he was the National League's MVP.

While Ryno's record spoke for itself, Ryno himself was silent. Rarely did he ever speak and whenever he did it made you cringe just watching him, like you were witnessing a chain-reaction accident as he tried to string words together.

So what a pleasant surprise it was to read the words that No. 23 gave at his Hall of Fame induction speech in Cooperstown yesterday. You expected the worst. You got the best. That's Ryno.

"The reason I am here, they tell me, is that I played the game a certain way, that I played the game the way it was supposed to be played. I don't know about that, but I do know this: I had too much respect for the game to play it any other way, and if there was a single reason I am here today, it is because of one word, respect. I love to play baseball. I'm a baseball player. I've always been a baseball player. I'm still a baseball player. That's who I am."

Sandberg was passionate and eloquent in making his play for the return of "respect" in baseball. If you're a fan of baseball, you should read his speech, the transcript of which is posted at the Web site for Baseball's Hall of Fame.

For sixteen years Sandberg filled the hole at second for the Cubs. No one did it better. No one likely ever will.

Here's the thing: No. 23 wasn't supposed to be a Hall-of-Famer. He wasn't supposed to be an All-Star. He was drafted by the Philadelphia Phillies in the 20th round of the 1978 amateur draft. Yes, the 20th round.

Ryno had a way of always rising to the occasion, though, of always exceeding expectations.

On June 23, 1984, he played in what would be known forever in Cubdom as "The Sandberg Game." That's the day he exploded on the baseball world by driving in seven runs and winning the game for the Cubs 12-11 with consecutive homers off Cardinals closer Bruce Sutter in the ninth and tenth innings. Opposing manager Whitey Herzog said afterwards, "One day I think he's one of the best players in the NL. The next day I think he's one of the best players I've ever seen"

On July 31, 2005, Sandberg exploded on the baseball world all over again. This time he did it not with his bat or with his glove, but, most unexpectedly, with his words.

It was a great second act for a great second baseman.

"Lost" on the Radio

At 4 a.m. Friday I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower where I tried, unsuccessfully, to wash away the sleep from my eyes. In another 2 hours 5 minutes I'd be making my radio debut and somehow would have to piece together coherent sentences. At 4 a.m. that seemed like a long-shot, since just opening my mouth to brush my teeth was a struggle.

The evening before I'd spent rehearsing. I'd come up with some canned answers for the softball questions that could be anticipated. But I fretted over the unknowns -- those killer darts that can come out of left field at any time.

At 6 a.m. I called into The Frank Truatt Morning Show in New York. Initially I spoke to a program director who thought I was someone else. This didn't seem to bode well. But when I repeated my name he seemed to understand and transferred me to Frank, who greeted me briefly and told me I'd be on the air in about 4 minutes.

The 4 minutes I was on hold seemed like an eternity as my heart raced at Indy speed and my palms dripped with perspiration. Meanwhile, through the phone earpiece I'm hearing what the weather and traffic are like in New York. 

Suddenly Frank is chatting with his sidekick about the Cubs and I realize that this is the lead-in for my interview. And just like that I find myself on the air.

The first couple questions are ones that I'd prepped for. This is good. I regurgitated my canned responses and managed to speak without tripping over my own words.

But then came that projectile from deep left field. Frank wants to know about my former "career" as a pilot. Huh? 

I gather that he read my online bio and my passing reference to how I began college studying to be a pilot. But as I note in that same bio, this was a career that for good reason was grounded before it ever took off, 25 very long years ago.

Well I think I handled that shot out of left field maybe not like a major-leaguer but a well-traveled semi-pro player and even managed to steer the interview back on the base path. 

All in all, my radio debut seemed to go pretty well. I said most of what I had hoped to say and didn't stumble over my words, a somewhat remarkable feat when you consider that I got into writing because of my shyness and general verbal clumsiness.

The interview essentially came to an end when Frank's sidekick quipped, "I think I already know who the murderer is...Steve Bartman."

In hindsight, I could have responded that I was in attendance at the infamous Bartman game. Instead, I gave a well-rehearsed chuckle. My 10 minutes in the dim early morning limelight of New York were history. I was mostly just relieved that it was over and ready to go back to bed. Unfortunately, I still had a workday ahead of me.    

The Windy (and Wonderfully Mysterious) City

You hear it so often it’s become a cliché, but writers are told to write what they know.

That’s how I ended up writing my fiction debut, Lost in the Ivy, which is set in a place that I know very well: Chicago’s Wrigleyville neighborhood. Wrigleyville’s name derives from its storied centerpiece, Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs.

During the mid-1990’s I lived in various places in and around Wrigleyville. Lost is a murder mystery inspired by that neighborhood.

Chicago has inspired many mystery writers. Eugene Izzi, Barbara D’Amato and Sara Paretsky are among the more notable names that have made Chicago come to life on the pages of mystery books.

What is it about Chicago that captured the imagination of these authors? Is it the city’s unsavory gangster past? Or its history of devious and deadly characters including the notorious likes of Leopold and Loeb and serial killers Herman Mudgett (aka Dr. Death), Richard Speck and John Wayne Gacy. Or its sleazy political corruption scandals? Or its true unsolved mysteries, including the murders of The Grimes sisters and the disappearance of candy heiress Helen Brach?

Surely Chicago’s oftentimes dark past shapes in some fashion how mystery writers view it. But I’d like to think that there’s much more to it than that.

Chicago has an air of mystery about it, and I mean that in a good way. It’s a feeling that spills out of its architecture, its majestic lakefront and its incredibly diverse and varied neighborhoods. There’s a sense that it’s holding so many secrets – secrets that you want to discover in you own, very personal, way.

Being a writer allows you to explore those mysteries and to share them with others. That’s why books inspired by Chicago feel so alive. They show what makes Chicago such a wonderfully mysterious place.

Making News

After 17 years away, my name is back on the pages of the Martinez News-Gazette.

The Gazette, a daily based in Martinez, Calif., was the place where I began my first career, as a journalist. Way back in 1986, the News-Gazette's managing editor at the time, Robert Osmond, took a chance on me and put me on the Contra Costa County beat.  Looking back on it, I don't know how big of a chance he took, considering that he was paying me just $200 a week. But it was a job. And, at the time, that's all that mattered.

I continued to work at the News-Gazette for two years and covered some significant stories during that time. I developed a particular interest in environmental issues and wrote recurring stories and columns about a devastating oil spill from the Shell Oil refinery in Martinez and the closure of the IT Corp. toxic waste dump there. I made some good friends while working there and look back fondly on those days.

Now the News-Gazette is the first newspaper that I know of to write about my fiction debut, Lost in the Ivy.  The story, by reporter Catherine Hess, under the headline, "Two former Gazette reporters publish books," appeared on the front page (yes, THE FRONT PAGE) of The Gazette's Weekend Edition, July 16-17, 2005. Hess wrote:

For readers, community newspapers deliver local stories. For writers, a newspaper such as the Gazette often serves as a launching pad for careers as writers.

Two former News-Gazette reporters have recently published their first books. Randy Richardson, who covered the Contra Costa County beat from 1986 to 1988, is based in Illinois. His novel, Lost in the Ivy, was published last month by PublishAmerica.

The story goes on to tell more about me and my book. Many thanks to The Gazette for the story and for bringing back some great memories.

My little book is making more news. In the coming days I expect to be telling you more stories about that, as those stories emerge.