I'm very thankful to the Yankees and to Major League Baseball

Hear the words of Alex Rodriguez, a man who stood beneath the weight of history and expectation, yet spoke with humility: “I’m very thankful to the Yankees and to Major League Baseball for allowing me to play this game.” In this utterance lies not a mere courtesy, but a profound recognition of grace. For the arena of sport, like the battlefield of old, is not granted by right, but bestowed by the consent of others—the team, the league, the great tradition that makes a single man’s triumph possible. Gratitude here is not weakness but reverence for the lineage into which he was admitted.

The ancients would have understood these words. For no gladiator entered the Colosseum by his own will alone, and no warrior strode the field without the sanction of king and city. To belong to the Yankees, one of the most storied names in the history of baseball, is not unlike being chosen to march beneath the banners of Rome or to fight beside Achilles at Troy. Rodriguez speaks as one who knows that his place among legends is not a solitary ascent, but a gift received. His thankfulness is not only to men but to the very structure of the game, the sacred order that allowed his gifts to shine.

Consider the tale of Achilles, whose might was beyond question. Yet even he, the greatest of the Achaeans, could not claim glory without the war at Troy to test his hand, without Agamemnon’s call to arms, without the ranks of warriors who stood beside him. In the same way, Rodriguez, though mighty in skill, required the grand stage of Major League Baseball and the proud house of the Yankees to inscribe his name upon the scroll of history. Gratitude, then, is the recognition that greatness is never achieved alone, but in communion with tradition, opportunity, and the labor of countless others.

There is also a confession of humility in these words. For many would think that to be a star, to stand as one of the most recognized names in sport, is to be beyond debt. Yet Rodriguez bows his head and says, “I am thankful.” He acknowledges that his destiny was shaped not only by his swing of the bat but by the gatekeepers who allowed him entry, by the fields prepared long before his birth, by the fans whose faith sustains the game. To be thankful is to remember that glory does not spring from self alone but from the soil of a greater order.

This truth is not confined to baseball, nor to heroes of the arena. In every craft and in every age, the masters owe their stage to those who built it before them. The sculptor is indebted to the quarryman, the poet to the language forged by generations, the scientist to the teachers who first taught him to read. When Newton said, “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants,” he echoed the same spirit that Rodriguez embodies here. To be thankful is to honor the chain of inheritance that binds us to those who came before.

The lesson, then, is plain and eternal: whatever your field, remember those who opened the doors for you. Be thankful not only for your talents but for the chance to use them. Do not forget the institutions, the traditions, and the people who prepared the path. If you achieve greatness, let your first words not be “I did this,” but “I was allowed to do this.” For gratitude preserves humility, and humility preserves honor.

Practical wisdom calls you to action: thank your mentors, your family, your community, your team. Speak it aloud, as Rodriguez did, for gratitude unspoken is like a seed unplanted. Support the institutions that nurtured you, and give back to those who will come after. Protect the game, whatever your “game” may be, so that others may stand where you now stand. And above all, remember that every stage is a gift, every opportunity a blessing, and every triumph a shared one.

Thus, from the words of Alex Rodriguez, let us carry this teaching forward: to live with gratitude is to live in harmony with the great order of life. For the one who is thankful will never be consumed by pride, but will remain rooted, enduring, and beloved. And in his heart, as on the fields of the Yankees, the eternal game shall never cease.