If you walk past the corner of Clark and Addison in Chicago, you’ll see him. He’s frozen in bronze, mid-swing, eyes locked on a horizon that only he seemed to see. It’s Ernie Banks, the man they called Mr. Cub. Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he stayed so happy.
Think about it. He played 19 seasons. He hit 512 home runs. He won back-to-back MVPs. Yet, he never once played in a postseason game. Not one. In today’s world of "ring chasing," that kind of loyalty feels like a myth. But for Ernie, the joy wasn't in the trophy case; it was in the dirt and the grass.
"Let’s play two!"
That wasn't just a catchy slogan for a t-shirt. He meant it. Even when the Chicago Cubs were buried in the standings—which was most of the time—Banks showed up like it was Christmas morning.
The Shortstop Who Changed Everything
Before Ernie Banks, shortstops weren't supposed to hit home runs. They were small, scrappy guys who bunted and stayed out of the way. Then came 1953.
Banks didn't take the traditional route. No minor leagues. He jumped straight from the Kansas City Monarchs in the Negro Leagues to the big show. When he stepped onto Wrigley Field on September 17, 1953, he wasn't just a rookie. He was the first Black player in the history of the Chicago Cubs.
The pressure must have been suffocating. He didn't care. Or at least, he never let it show. By 1955, he was smashing 44 home runs. In 1958, he hit 47. That’s a number that still makes modern power hitters jealous.
Breaking the MVP Mold
Winning an MVP is hard. Winning it twice is elite. Doing it on a losing team? That’s nearly impossible.
In 1958 and 1959, the Cubs were, frankly, not good. They finished with losing records both years. Usually, voters ignore players on bad teams. But Banks was so dominant—driving in 129 runs in '58 and 143 in '59—that they couldn't look away. He became the first player in National League history to win consecutive MVP awards.
He was doing this while playing one of the most demanding defensive positions on the field. Eventually, his knees started to give out. The "College of Coaches" (a weird experimental managing system the Cubs tried) moved him to first base in 1962. Most players would have grumbled. Ernie just kept smiling.
The Man Behind the "Mr. Cub" Moniker
Why do we still talk about him in 2026?
It's not just the 512 home runs. It’s the vibe. Baseball can be a cynical, business-first grind. Banks treated it like a hobby he was lucky to have. He had 20/13 vision, which is basically a superpower, but his real strength was his temperament.
✨ Don't miss: 89 Score Barry Sanders: Why This Green Border Legend Still Rules the Hobby
He played through the heat, the losses, and the racial tension of the 50s and 60s with a grace that felt almost superhuman. He lived in a modest apartment. He talked to fans. He was accessible in a way that modern superstars rarely are.
The 1969 Heartbreak
If there’s one year that defines the "Cubs-ness" of Ernie Banks, it’s 1969. The Cubs were in first place for 155 days. They were the Kings of Chicago. Then, the "Miracle Mets" happened.
The Cubs collapsed. It was brutal.
Even then, Banks didn't lash out. He was 38 years old, his body was failing, and his best chance at a World Series was evaporating in the September heat. He finished that season with 23 homers and 106 RBIs, but the postseason eluded him again.
Legacy Beyond the Ivy
When he retired in 1971, the numbers were staggering:
- 512 career home runs (9th all-time when he retired)
- 2,583 hits
- 14-time All-Star
- First-ballot Hall of Famer (1977)
But look at the 2013 Presidential Medal of Freedom. Barack Obama gave it to him, not just for the home runs, but for being a "gentleman" of the game. That’s a word you don't hear much in sports anymore.
He wasn't perfect. No one is. His post-playing career had its share of financial and personal ups and downs. But the image of Ernie Banks Mr. Cub remains pristine because of how he made people feel. He made a generation of Chicagoans believe that even if the team lost, the day was still a win because you got to be at the ballpark.
How to Honor Mr. Cub Today
If you want to actually understand the legacy of Ernie Banks, don't just look at a spreadsheet. Do these things instead:
- Visit the Statue: If you're in Chicago, go to Wrigley. Stand at the statue. Look at the joy in the pose. It’s infectious.
- Watch the Wrist Action: Go on YouTube and find old clips of his swing. He used a very light 31-ounce bat. Most guys back then used heavy clubs. Banks used "flick" power. It was revolutionary.
- Adopt the Attitude: Next time you’re having a rough day at work, try the "Let's play two" mindset. It sounds cheesy, but it’s actually a pretty powerful way to live.
- Learn the Negro League History: Read up on the Kansas City Monarchs. Banks didn't come out of nowhere; he was part of a rich, often overlooked tradition of elite Black baseball.
Ernie Banks died in 2015, just a year before the Cubs finally broke the curse and won the World Series. People left "Let's Play Two" signs at his statue that night. He wasn't there to see the parade, but in a way, he was the one who kept the lights on until the party finally started.
Actionable Insight: The next time you visit a historic ballpark, look for the players who stayed. Loyalty in sports is rare. Banks showed that being a "franchise icon" is about more than winning—it's about being the heartbeat of a community when things are at their worst.