Ryan Acosta: A caring father's legacy

Some things in life are so clearly beyond understanding or reason, as to be sadly opaque.

A century of futility comes to mind, though the Cubs' future is never more uncertain than are matters of life and death.

Oscar Acosta rarely dwelled much on those. He didn't escape certain death or jail on the mean streets of Mexican border towns, or rope cattle for milk money in the harsh New Mexico winters, to spend his days here putting meaning to life.

He just lived. Hard.

And he wasn't supposed to die at 49 in an ambiguous car accident in the Dominican Republic in April 2006, while working in the Yankees organization.

But Acosta, once the Cubs' pitching coach and before that a minor-league manager, would not have pondered the incongruity of his death, nor the parallel universe that now sees his son Ryan pitching in the Cubs organization.

Or that Ryan will likely be in Peoria next spring playing for Ryne Sandberg, the man for whom Ryan was named.

The man his father used to dine with in Helena, Montana, when the two were rookie ball teammates in 1978.

A man Oscar once looked after and fought for, but the one who will now look after Oscar's son.

Oscar Acosta would have probably just thought, "That's about right,'' and been happy his son was playing for Sandberg.

"And now I have a lot to live up to because my dad's name, especially in the Cubs organization and in baseball, it stands for integrity and honor and respect,'' says Ryan, who addresses a caller as "sir'' and uses foreign words like "please'' and "thank you'' generously. "I feel that I have to live that way, too, or I would not be living up to my dad's name.''

Lessons learned

The 19-year-old Ryan Acosta was drafted in the 12th round by the Cubs last June and threw well in his short time at Boise (Class A), but it was his maturity that impressed the most during the fall instructional league.

"You can tell he's been around the game forever the way he talks the game,'' said Cubs player personnel boss Oneri Fleita. "He knows what he's doing out there. He's got great instinct, the way he reads the ball off the bat and fields his position.''

More than one Cubs employee compared him to Greg Maddux, not because anyone expects him to win 350 games or strike out 3,000, but in his manner and approach to the game.

"He's got a great delivery and throws about 90 mph,'' Fleita said. "He's got four or five pitches and has a great feel for them, but we might want to narrow that down a bit.''

It's impossible not to see and hear his dad in him when you talk to Ryan, who pitched his high school team to a Florida state title in his final prep outing.

"He's definitely a chip off the old block,'' Sandberg laughs. "He's very aggressive, and not afraid to pitch inside. Very polished and composed, a complete gentleman and good listener.

"It's obvious he grew up with a former pitcher and instructor as a dad. You don't forget guys like his dad. Old school all the way through.

"There's a way to do things and that's the right way, and that's the way Ryan does them.''

For Ryan, the words bring not only pride, but also the comfort of home, because even though his dad won't be around to counsel, being near Sandberg will feel very familiar.

"My dad had total respect for him, obviously, since he named me after him, but my dad loved how he never changed as a person, and how he never acted like he was more important than the 25th guy on the team,'' Ryan said. "Before I even saw him in Arizona in the fall, he went and put a picture in my locker and signed it, 'To a future major leaguer.'

"He remembered that when I was a little kid, when I used to hang around the clubhouse, he signed a picture to me that said, 'To a future pro.' He said, 'You're a pro now so you need a new one.'

"He can remember things like that and it tells you something. He said he enjoyed watching me pitch and that gave me a real fire to come back this year better than I've ever been.''

Living up to the name

The day after his father died, Ryan Acosta, then just 17, pitched for his high school team, not that anyone who knew father or son was surprised.

"My dad was the type of man that if he watched you, he could sense your fear before you even did anything, whether it was on the baseball field, out at the ranch, or on the street,'' says Ryan. "He taught me to pitch without fear, to stare down the batter, to believe I'm throwing this ball by the hitter.

"If you believe that, you will, but if you're guessing out there, you're going to get hit.

"So I always have my dad out there with me. Every game I have a routine where I go behind the mound and I can hear those two words he would always say: 'Come on.'

"That's all he had to say. He was so ferocious and if he was pumped up with all that electricity, I could feel it in those two words, so I do that now, and get myself fired up with those words.

"He didn't get to see a lot of my games because he was always on the road, but when he was home we'd look at video of the games and he was more happy that he got a chance to see me pitch than he was analyzing me.

"If he saw something, he might give me a tip, but mostly he said stay natural always and don't become a robot. He'd say, 'Figure it out on your own, because if everyone gives you all the answers, you'll never figure anything out on your own, and when you're in trouble, you won't be able to get out of it.'

"He raised me that way from a little boy, whether it was calf roping or baseball or life.''

And sometimes, Oscar didn't say a word.

"I'm sure any of his pitchers will tell you that all it took was a look from him and you knew you screwed up. Nobody wanted that look,'' Ryan laughed. "And then one time we drove across the country and hardly said a word to each other and we had the best time.

"I told him that day that it's how I knew we were best friends, because we didn't have to talk to have a good time, and he said, 'That's right.'

"Words can't describe how much love there was between dad and baseball, between dad and his players, between dad and his family, and between my dad and me.

"My dad didn't need words.''

Still, this time of year is tough for his mom, Kathy, and his sisters, and Ryan could use some of those words right about now after going through his second Christmas without his father.

"It's tough seeing families all together for the holidays and doing all the things families do,'' Ryan said. "The other day I drove past a basketball court where me and my dad shot baskets, and I saw a father standing under the bucket rebounding the ball and tossing it back to his son, just like we used to do.

"I was back in New Mexico working on the cattle ranch with one of my dad's buddies like we did every winter, but my dad wasn't there.

"You get to those times of year when it's hard, but there's a lot of people have it hard this time of year, and my dad always said no matter how hard things get, you have to rise above it.

"Yeah, I miss him, but there's people have it a lot tougher than me.

"Besides, I can't quit. My dad said you don't ever quit, because the day you quit is the day you can't stand in front of a mirror and call yourself a man.

"I can't quit and I won't. I can't because I couldn't do that to my dad.''

brozner@dailyherald.com

• Listen to Barry Rozner throughout the week on WGN 720-AM.