Kepner: In the vintage village of Cooperstown, it's still how you play the game that counts

New York Times

5 days ago

'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 is a single reason I am here today, it is because of one word: 'Respect.'' – Ryne Sandberg, 2005
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COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. – Everything about the Baseball Hall of Fame is carefully orchestrated, like a standard from the great American songbook. It is a testament not just to organization and efficiency, but to the greater mission of the people who steer the institution. They want it to embody more than baseball.
They succeed at this spectacularly. The village, and the fantasyland it becomes every induction weekend, is so inviting that John Smoltz woke up here on Saturday morning, called a game in Boston that night, then scurried back to be on the golf course, swinging in the rain, the very next morning.
The pull of the brotherhood, the pull of the purpose, is that powerful.
'It feels special,' CC Sabathia said late Sunday, after officially joining the ranks of the immortals, 'and it feels like you have a responsibility to carry the game forward.'
There was a reason that Jane Forbes Clark, the chairman of the Hall and the granddaughter of its founder, Stephen Carlton Clark, quoted the Sandberg speech to begin Sunday's induction ceremony, which welcomed Sabathia, Ichiro Suzuki, Billy Wagner, Dick Allen and Dave Parker to the Hall.
Sandberg, the Chicago Cubs stalwart from the 1980s and '90s, is deep into his struggle with prostate cancer. He is part of the Hall family, and the theme of his speech is as timeless and wholesome as a Rockwell.
'There is not a man seated behind me this afternoon who didn't play the game the same way Ryno did,' Clark said, after echoing Sandberg's speech. 'It is that respect, character, sportsmanship, integrity and excellence that leads to just 1 percent of those who have ever played Major League Baseball to be inducted into the Hall of Fame.'
Plenty of baseball fans reject the view that membership in the Hall should reflect such an idealized vision. It is, after all, a business filled with complicated people who sometimes make flawed decisions. Performance matters most.
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Yet the career leaders in hits (Pete Rose), home runs (Barry Bonds) and Cy Young Awards (Roger Clemens) do not have plaques here. Neither does Alex Rodriguez (696 home runs), who should have been celebrating his 50th birthday here on Sunday, surrounded by the few others on earth who ever played as well as he did.
Bonds and Clemens might get another look this December if they make it onto an Era Committee ballot. Rose is eligible – at last, posthumously – for consideration by a future committee. And Rodriguez has six more years to be voted on by writers, who have yet to give him half of the 75 percent needed for election.
Steroids and gambling – the most explosive, divisive factors in evaluating historic greatness – invariably cloud the selection process. But the Hall makes clear, in ways both overt and subtle, that while membership cannot be revoked once awarded (see: Roberto Alomar), it should belong only to those who played the game right.
At the end of their candidacies, Bonds and Clemens – who were never suspended for steroid use – got about two-thirds of the writers' support. But it's funny: even if you believe they deserve admission, when you're actually in the gallery, you don't really think of the players not on its walls. If someone is missing, you're too charmed to notice.
Five new members joined the team on Sunday, bringing the total to 351, the same as Allen's career home run total. Allen was misunderstood for too long, and should have been elected long before he died of cancer in 2020, at age 78. His plaque is a bit of a jumble – he has a '60s-era cap and glasses and hair from the '70s – but its meaning is clear.
Welcome to baseball immortality, Dick Allen. pic.twitter.com/ic7juGaUmw
— National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum ⚾ (@baseballhall) July 27, 2025
'His story's not just about home runs or rewards,' said Allen's widow, Willa, in her acceptance speech. 'It's about principle, compassion, unwavering determination. That is what carried him through every challenge and every triumph.'
The breadth of these stories are rarely as neat as we'd like to believe; the middle of Parker's career – between his late-'70s prime to his late-'80s elder-statesman phase – was especially thorny. He lived to learn of his induction, but Parkinson's disease took him in June, at age 74. His son David II, an uncanny lookalike, gave a heartfelt, joyous speech that included a poem his father wrote:
Here I am, 39, about damn time,
I know I had to wait a little, but that's what you do with fine-aged wine,
I'm a Pirate for life, wouldn't have it no other way
That was my Family – even though I didn't go on parade day, I love y'all
The Bucs own my heart, because those two championships I got? Y'all played in the first part.
I'm in the Hall now, you can't take that away
That statue better look good, you know I got a pretty face
Top-tier athlete, fashion icon, sex symbol, no reason to list the rest of my credentials.
I'm him. Period. The Cobra. Known for my rocket arm, and I'll run any catcher over.
To my friends, family, I love y'all. Thanks for staying by my side.
I told y'all Cooperstown would be my last ride.
So the Star of Dave will be in the sky tonight. Watch it glow.
But I didn't lie – on my documentary, I told y'all I wouldn't show.
Dave Parker II reads a poem that his late father wrote for his @BaseballHall induction! 🥹 pic.twitter.com/xsE3BlYsvM
— MLB (@MLB) July 27, 2025
You get the feeling that Suzuki would have loved Parker, a fellow strong-armed right fielder with a clever, cheeky sense of humor. Suzuki, who missed unanimous election by one vote, spoke in English and addressed the unknown grouch who rejected him: 'The offer to have dinner at my home has now expired.'
Ichi's got jokes 😂 #IchiroHOF pic.twitter.com/S8NdrFEfXx
— Seattle Mariners (@Mariners) July 27, 2025
Wagner, the first Division III player to reach the Hall of Fame, was exceedingly humble and gracious; Sabathia emphasized the impact of the women who have shaped his life, and spoke of his devotion to helping reverse the alarming decline of Black participation in MLB.
But it was Suzuki, the final speaker, who drove home Clark's opening point. This is a man who loves baseball so much that he worked out at least twice this week on a Little League field in nearby Hartwick, N.Y. – long-tossing, running, taking batting practice in a cage off Wagner. He has visited Cooperstown eight times.
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'I could never imagine as a kid in Japan that my play would lead me to a sacred baseball land that I didn't even know was here,' Suzuki said.
His efforts, Suzuki said, required utter and total devotion. He is married, but has no children. He is retired, but still trains with the Mariners as if he were on the roster, so he can properly demonstrate skills to any Seattle player who asks.
'Baseball is so much more than just hitting, throwing, and running,' he said. 'Baseball taught me to make value decisions about what is important. It helped shape my view of life and the world.
'As a kid, I thought I could play baseball forever. The order I got, I realized the only way to keep playing the game I loved until 45, at the highest level, was to dedicate myself to it completely. When fans use their precious time to come watch you play, you have a responsibility to perform for them, whether we are winning by 10 or losing by 10. I felt my duty was to motivate the same from opening day through game 162.
'I never started packing my equipment or taping boxes until after the season's final out. I felt it was my professional duty to give fans my complete attention each and every game. Fans deserve to be entertained whenever they choose to come. Baseball taught me what it means to be a professional and I believe that is the main reason I am here today – not because my skills are better than others.'
Ryne Sandberg couldn't have said it better himself.
(Top photo of Ichiro Suzuki:)