Our 5 favorite lessons from Ichiro, CC Sabathia and the 2025 Baseball Hall of Fame inductees

New York Times

a day ago

Editor's Note: This story is part of Peak, The Athletic's desk covering leadership, personal development and success through the lens of sports. Follow Peak here.
On Sunday, the Baseball Hall of Fame inducted five new members, each from different backgrounds with different specialties and their own unique experiences to draw from. This year's batch included…
Ichiro Suzuki: A habitual, dedicated student of the game who had already visited Cooperstown several times to soak up the Hall of Fame's history.
Advertisement
CC Sabathia: A three-sport high school athlete from California who once took out a full-page ad in the Cleveland Plain Dealer after he was traded to thank fans for their support.
Billy Wagner: The first left-handed relief pitcher and first baseball player from a Division III school to be inducted into the Hall of Fame.
Dave Parker: A confident athlete from Cincinnati who once played a game with a hockey goalie's mask after fracturing his cheekbone and jaw.
Dick Allen: The second youngest of nine children who was also the lead singer for the Ebonistics, a popular doo-wop group he created while he played for the Phillies.
There are countless lessons from these Hall of Famers' careers and the uncommon situations and special moments they experienced along the way. After listening to them and their loved ones on Sunday, here are my favorites:
Sometimes you just need an opportunity — and sometimes you'll need to create that opportunity yourself.
Wagner, who was naturally right-handed, broke his right arm twice when he was seven years old. But his parents reminded him to never let circumstances define him, so he taught himself to throw with his left arm while his right healed.
As a high school senior, he was 5-feet-5 and weighed 135 pounds. His smaller size contributed to him being overlooked by scouts and colleges. So instead he attended Ferrum College, a Division III school, where he played baseball and football.
'I refused to give up, or give in, and I refused to listen to the outside critics and never stopped working,' he said in his speech.
Initially a starting pitcher with the Astros' organization, Wagner transitioned to the bullpen following a call up to the big leagues. The shift forced him to adjust his pitching style and what he was comfortable with, but he turned the challenge into an opportunity and became one of the best closers in baseball history.
Advertisement
To Wagner, every obstacle made him stronger because of the hard work he needed to put in to rise above it. And he embraced that.
'(Obstacles) build you and shape you, refine you,' he said.
Parker's son, David Parker II, delivered the speech his father always wanted to give, just one month after his death. But we were lucky enough to still hear from Parker himself, as his son closed the speech by reading a poem his father wrote for the ceremony.
'I know I had to wait a little, but that's what you do with fine-age wine,' Parker joked in the poem.
Parker's son took us on a journey through his father's life and career. And it slowly became apparent that for Parker, milestones and accolades were always wrapped together by relationships.
'You see these legends?' he'd say to his son. 'I see old friends.' He'd have the same perspective even when meeting fans.
'They're not fans, they're friends,' he'd remind his son. 'Forever friends.'
He said he learned how to 'love like a Major League Baseball player' from players like Roberto Clemente and held onto that gratitude throughout his career, choosing to see his teammates for who they were as people, not just players.
'Through all the individual teams and accomplishments he enjoyed during his 11 seasons with Pittsburgh,' his son said, 'the moments surrounded by teammates and mentors, that meant the most to my dad.'
Allen died in 2020, so his wife, Willa, spoke for him. In her speech, she talked about a unique part of Allen's personality: His curiosity and where that took him.
'He was obsessed with understanding the 'why,'' Willia Allen said.
To Allen, baseball wasn't a job, it was a gift, because it served as a tool for many things: to express talent, enjoy the game, and handle the great responsibility of being a professional. But most importantly, it was a gift to learn.
Advertisement
He would ask himself questions.
Why did we lose? Why didn't that play work?
'There's a game within the game,' is a saying his wife remembers him reciting often.
One of the best parts about Allen's curiosity? The way he made sure to break down all his findings with his teammates, too, wanting them to see value in taking the time to notice things that others might miss.
Sabathia's speech was hardly about baseball and almost entirely about family. He began by prefacing that he would be reaching out to people personally to thank them, but wanted to use his Hall of Fame speech simply to praise his loved ones.
And if a hug could be put into words, that's what this speech felt like. He explained that by leaning on the 'village of women' who raised him, his wife, Amber, his teammates and his kids, he accomplished what he did.
'I was so homesick that I would go to the phone booth every night and call home,' he said of his rookie days in North Carolina. 'I would have quit right then if I could have kept my money and my mom and Amber didn't spend all night talking me through my fears.'
Sabathia explained that there is always something on the other side of the storm, and those who are closest to you are the ones who can help you see that.
In his speech, Ichiro reminisced about the first time he ran onto the field as a 27-year-old rookie for the Seattle Mariners. He said he felt 'in awe' of the competition and thought about the criticism he heard from fans and media before the game about his chances of succeeding in the major leagues.
But he said his preparation gave him the confidence to reframe his thinking at that moment.
'I knew if I stuck to my belief about preparation, I could overcome the doubts, even my own,' he said.
Advertisement
To Suzuki, taking responsibility for yourself in that way means paying attention to the small stuff. He found comfort in routinely fixating on the little things he could do better. For example, he talked about cleaning his spikes and traveling with his bats in a humidor.
'As I continued to set my goals, I also came to understand that consistency would be the foundation to achievement,' he said. 'Understand the difference between a dream and a goal. In order to make a dream your goal, you must be honest in thinking about what is important to achieve it.'
(Illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic; Elsa / Getty Images)