CC's HOF Speech & The Importance of Family:

Last week, we published Ichiro Suzuki's Hall of Fame speech. Today, we celebrate another new Hall of Famer in C.C. Sabathia with his moving speech about family.

---

Here is the transcript:

"Thank you. Thank you very much.

Thank you to Jane Forbes Clark. Thank you to the baseball writers. Thank you to the fans out there. And thank you most of all to the great players sitting behind me.

I am so proud and humbled to join you as a Hall of Famer. Even Ichiro, who stole my Rookie of the Year award in 2001.

The list of people who deserve my thanks is very long and you'll hear from me personally. Today, I thought I would tell a few stories.

Plenty of men taught me about baseball and life, beginning with my dad, Corki. In the years [that] he was missing from my life, my uncle Edwin Sabathia stepped up. And it was Abe Hobbs, the Vallejo High baseball coach, who taught me how to hit the ball the other way, who drove me to Dusty Baker's baseball camp, and who opened my eyes about the Negro Leagues and Jackie Robinson.

No one has more fun hanging out with the fellas than me. But, I have been blessed to have so many wise and caring women in my life. Growing up, there was my aunts, Gloria Rufus and Denise Jones, Sharon Sabathia and Jeannie Sabahia. There was Jennifer Austin, Carmen Merriman, Gwen Lake, Ophelia Wells, Hazel Wilson, and especially my grandmother, Elta Rufus.

My granny's house was my home base and safe place. I spent a lot of nights there and ate a lot of her red beans and rice and plum jelly, that I would eat straight out of the jar.

My granny had a huge grapefruit tree in her backyard. When I was young, I would collect the ones that fell, line them up, and throw them at a folding chair as my strike zone. That was the first time [that] I realized I could throw hard. As a teenager, when I wanted to get a job at Marine World, my granny said, 'No. Focus on baseball.'.

You'll be lucky to have even one of those women in your life, and I've had them all. A village of women who raised me, guided me, made me laugh, fed me, protected me, and a few times literally saved me. Starting with my mom, Margie.

When I was 12 years old, I was becoming a pretty good ballplayer. One All-Star game, I threw a no-hitter and struck out 17 of the 18 batters. Back then, my dad was constantly telling my mom, 'He's going to the big leagues.'. And my mom would reply, 'Quit saying that. Let him be. He needs to stay humble.'. But, my mom loved the game too.

When I was young, she put on the catchers gear so I could throw in the backyard. And years later, after my starts in Cleveland, we would sit in the garage and talk pitch selection. My mom is here today, just like she's always been there for me. That hasn't always been easy.

My parents split up when I was about 12 years old. My mom worked nights at Travis Air Force Base, and as much as we struggled through painful losses that took family and friends away from us too soon, my mom kept going. From her, I learned that if we are here, if we are breathing, if we are standing, we can get through it. There's always something on the other side of the storm.

Fortunately, it hasn't been all drama. When I was a kid, my mom loved Ken Griffey Jr. That's why we went to the Oakland Coliseum whenever the Mariners played the A's. My mom is the reason I'm a baseball fan. And fans turn into players who sometimes turn into Hall of Famers.

I can still name the whole lineup from the 1989 world champion A's in my sleep. At DH was Dave Parker. I know we all wish he was here with us today. It's an extra honor to be a part of Dave's Hall of Fame class. He was the Cobra, but also became Pops, a father figure to a generation of black stars.

In the 80s and early 90s, when I first started watching baseball and Dave Parker was crushing homers, the number of black players in the major leagues was at his highest, about 18%. Me and my friends played the game because we saw those guys on TV. There was always somebody who looked like me in a baseball uniform.

Baseball has always been a great game for black athletes, but baseball culture has not always been great for black people. Through the Players Alliance and our work with the commissioner's office and the CAP program, I hope we're starting to turn that around.

I don't want to be the final member of the Black Aces, a black pitcher to win 20 games in the big leagues. And I don't want to be the final black pitcher standing here giving a Hall of Fame speech.

Maybe part of the answer is more agents like my wife, Amber. The first time we met was at a house party when I was a junior in high school. We spent the whole night talking, and that conversation has been going on for 29 years now. From the beginning, Amber told me when I was being stupid. She never lied to me. She keeps things real. [She] keeps things real, out of love, not out of games or anger.

As a rookie in Burlington, North Carolina, I was so raw, Carl Willis had to teach me the right place to stand on the rubber and the right way to hold a four-seamer. I was so homesick that I would go to a phone booth every night and call home. 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.

When I made my first start in Cleveland, Amber was there wearing a number 52 jersey. We loved Cleveland. I always say I was born and raised in Vallejo, but Cleveland is where I grew up. It's where we got married. Three out of our four children were born there, and my biggest regret in baseball is not winning a championship for the fans in Cleveland.

Amber was there in Milwaukee, pregnant, when I was first traded and nervous to start with a new team. She was there when I rode in the rehab drunk. She was there a month later when I walked out sober. I know I'm super difficult to be around sometimes, and I've tested her patience and love too many times, but she knows how to navigate me like no one else does, and I always say she's the only human I can be around every single day.

I love playing in Cleveland and Milwaukee, but when it was time to go somewhere new, I thought I wanted to go to L.A. and play for the Dodgers close to home. I definitely didn't want to go to New York and play for the Yankees the furthest team away. Winning mattered and money made a difference, but my free agent decision was really about where we were going to spend our lives. We said to ourselves, we'll play anywhere on the planet as long as our family is together. When Amber and I were kids, things in our family were inconsistent. Now we had three kids of our own, and we wanted to plant roots. That's what we talked about.

That's how we made the best decision we ever made. 11 months later, she was there in the Bronx as we won a 2009 World Series.

Amber and I have always been we. We picked the Yankees. We bought a house in New Jersey. 17 years later, that's where we still live. It's where we raised a family. When I wrote my book, I dedicated it to our children, because that's still our biggest accomplishment to this day.

The best part of being retired is watching what our kids do. Watching Lil C' develop into a man and a ball player at the University of Houston has been amazing. Jaeden is on her way to her career in arts management, so we help her study by going to Broadway shows together. And I've seen Cyia win two national dance championships making me a dance dad. And I always say, if my life was a movie, she'd be the main character. And Carter just got home from the Hank Aaron invitation on Vero Beach, where somewhere every weekend, it's insane, and I love it.

In January, I was sitting on our couch next to our house. [sic] I was sitting on our couch in our house when Amber's phone rang. The Hall of Fame knew to call her. I'm known not to answer a call or a text.

Yeah, I have been watching the tracker for months, and things look good. But when we got the news that day, I was in shock. The room was cheering, and I was just sitting there until Jayden gave me a hug and snapped me out of the daze. The next day, we drove up to Cooperstown, me behind the wheel, Amber in the front passenger seat like always.

It's been a long road from Vallejo, California, and I wouldn't have made it all this way without the women redirecting me when I got lost.

Tonight, tell your grannies, your moms, your aunts, your sisters, your wives, your girlfriends, and your daughters, how much you love and appreciate them.

Thank you, Baseball Hall of Fame, for making the Sabathia's a part of your family."