The Angels’ $70-Million Homebody

There are no clocks in sight. No one hurries here.

As the tropical breezes blow through this tiny town, the lively Caribbean music wafts through windows and into the street. No one is too busy that he cannot spare a few minutes to enjoy a drink, play dominoes or simply absorb the rhythms of music and of life.

The homes are small and colorful, painted in bright pastels.

Vladimir Guerrero -- the four-time All-Star outfielder and prize of this winter’s free-agent market who signed a $70-million contract with the Angels last month -- lives in the blue home. He grew up across the street, in the green home.

He is not at either place. In this town, he cannot be far away. His mother sets out plastic chairs for the visitors, inviting them to wait in front of the family home. The front door swings open every few minutes, all afternoon long, a parade of brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, friends of all ages.

Kids chase each other on a side street, yielding to a girl passing on a bicycle and a man passing on a horse. Cars and motorcycles buzz past on the main street, a five-minute ride from one end of town to the other, no stoplight necessary.

A teenager on a scooter skids to a stop. His passenger, perhaps the most talented player in baseball, hops off.

Guerrero pulls up another plastic chair and greets his visitors. His huge contract explains the presence of the reporter, photographer, agent and interpreter. As he sits outside his mother’s home and talks, no one gawks, but four little girls tiptoe behind him, giggling, attracted not by the presence of a superstar but by the chance to sneak into one of the photographs.

In an era when sports heroes transform themselves into pop culture icons, Guerrero is a reluctant celebrity, little-known and happily so. He enjoyed his time in Montreal, a baseball wilderness shunned by players far less talented. No longer can he isolate himself, though, not as the new marquee player in Angel owner Arte Moreno’s drive to dethrone the Dodgers in Southern California’s rich media market.

Alfredo Griffin, the Angels’ first-base coach and a Dominican hero in his own right, returns to his hometown of San Pedro de Macoris every winter. Guerrero, 28, who could afford to live anywhere in the world, could not imagine living anywhere else. This is the Dominican way.

“You don’t forget where you come from,” Griffin said. “No matter how much money you make, you still live there, and you go back where you’re from. That’s what this guy does.”

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Liquid soap is now available in Don Gregorio, thanks to Guerrero.

No longer is grocery shopping here limited to the meager selection of staples at the corner store. Step inside the modern glass doors of the market, grab a container of tropical juice from the sleek cooler, pick from the pile of fresh bread. The calendar, tacked to the wall behind the cashier, features pictures of two baseball players, the proprietors of the store.

“Hermanos Guerrero, Un Supermercado de Grandes Ligas,” reads the glistening sign outside. “Guerrero Brothers, A Big League Supermarket.”

Wilton Guerrero made his major league debut with the Dodgers on Sept. 3, 1996. Vladimir Guerrero made his 16 days later, with the Montreal Expos.

Wilton, big brother by 13 months and a career utilityman who will audition for the Kansas City Royals this spring, earned $2.8 million in his six big league seasons, a pittance compared to what he Angels will pay Vladimir, but a fortune here.

Wilton built the second story on the family home. Vladimir built the third story, making the small green house the first three-story building in town. Then he bought himself a home, the small blue one across the street.

The brothers refurbished the local ball field -- in gratitude, the town mounted a plaque -- and sponsored a youth league. To this day, Vladimir supplies balls, bats and shoes.

And, with Vladimir providing the bulk of the funding, the Guerrero brothers implemented an economic stimulus package for their hometown. Their businesses include the supermarket, a hardware store and a factory that manufactures concrete blocks.

In Nizao, the municipal area that includes Don Gregorio, Dominican government statistics list a population of 19,000 and a workforce of 6,000. No figures are available for Don Gregorio.

Diego Bentz, one of Guerrero’s agents, estimates that 2,000 people live in Don Gregorio and that 400 work in Guerrero’s enterprises.

“The whole economy is the Guerrero economy,” Bentz said.

Guerrero needs no economic impact studies to justify his investments. He smiles broadly as he explains himself, in Spanish, to another of his agents, Fitzgerald Acosta.

“To see the families and the kids he grew up with working in his factory gratifies him as much as anything,” Acosta said after listening. “When he builds his factory and sees his friends working, he shares among friends.”

His latest venture will keep construction workers busy for another year. He is building himself a palatial two-story house on an enormous plot of land, near the factory and just off the main street. The exterior is nearing completion. The garden is coming soon. Cows and goats graze on the property.

They’re not pets. He can slaughter them, he says, and sell the meat at the supermarket.

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In those moments when he seeks peace and quiet, Guerrero says, he follows the main street out of town, past the buildings and into the fields.

He worked here as a child, planting and picking tomatoes, onions, melons and four types of beans. His mother worked in Venezuela for 10 years, as a maid, here for weeks and gone for months. The family survived. In comparison, nothing else mattered. If his education stopped in grade school, so be it.

He speaks a few words of English, understands a few more. He opens up here, where he is comfortable. During the season, he surrounds himself with family and friends and says little to anyone else. He is wary of outsiders, particularly the media.

“He’s very reserved, a very shy man, a very honest man,” said Felipe Alou, a fellow Dominican who managed him for five seasons in Montreal.

Griffin recruited Guerrero to the Angels last month, not so much with the American currency generously offered by Moreno but with the Dominican currency of trust and respect. Griffin managed Guerrero in the Dominican winter league seven years ago. He sold him on Anaheim, not as the grand prize in Moreno’s $146-million free-agent shopping spree but with a soft sell that reflected the concerns of Guerrero and his mother.

Too big a city and too many distractions, she worried, and her son might not sleep.

“He had never been there before. He wanted to make sure someone he trusts told him the truth,” Griffin said. “Vladi doesn’t like a lot of noise. I said, ‘Anaheim is the perfect place for you.’ ”

Guerrero repeats the word Griffin emphasized in their conversations: tranquilo, peaceful.

On his first day in town, a Monday afternoon in January, the Angels welcomed him at a news conference, with his mother and three of his brothers in attendance. Before the afternoon was out, he had purchased a home in Orange County, eight miles from Angel Stadium.

“The first house he saw, he bought it,” Bentz said.

He will not spend his summers alone. His mother will move there for the season. So will his oldest son, Vladimir Jr., 4. He has three children, blushing slightly in explaining each has a different mother. During the winter, Vladi Jr. lives with his mother in Santiago, on the opposite side of the island. The other kids -- son Vlaimi, 2, and daughter Miquita, 1 1/2 -- reside with their mothers in Nizao.

Guerrero says he has nine siblings, four from the same mother and father. Relatives and friends abound, all welcome in the new home in California.

In Anaheim, he will face the high expectations that come with a big contract and superstar talent. Guerrero’s baseball skills are sometimes breathtaking -- he hit a 502-foot home run last season. From the warning track in right field, he throws runners out at home plate, sometimes on the fly, occasionally flat-footed. And at age 28 he has produced batting statistics -- including five consecutive seasons with at least 34 home runs and 108 runs batted in -- comparable to those of Hall of Famer Willie Mays at the same age.

He pledges not to sequester himself. In Montreal, where the locals spoke English and French and he spoke neither, Guerrero did little for the Expos within the community. He played hard and well, and he embarrassed no one, and eventually the Expos made their peace with that.

Moreno wants more, no matter how reserved or shy Guerrero might be. So far, so good: Guerrero agreed to fly from the Dominican to attend this weekend’s fan festival.

Angel broadcaster Jose Mota, son of former Dodger pinch-hitting wizard Manny Mota, grew up in the Dominican Republic and filmed a documentary about baseball there. Mota, a onetime spring training teammate of Guerrero with the Expos, said Guerrero recognizes that his contract catapults him alongside Sammy Sosa and Pedro Martinez, Dominican giants on and off the field.

“I feel a sense of responsibility,” Guerrero said, “especially with the Latino fans.”

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His mother, Altagracia Alvino, beckons her son and his visitors inside the small green home, directing them to the dining room table. First comes the salad platter, with lettuce, tomato, cucumber and onion. Then the main dishes: two kinds of rice, mixed with meat and heavenly seasonings and tiny red beans called habichuelas, a Dominican favorite.

There is no shortage of food. In Dominican culture, Mota said, “When you’re living with two or three people, you cook for 10.”

Or, for that matter, for a 25-man roster.

“Oh, man. His mom is the best cook in the world,” said Chicago Cub catcher Michael Barrett, who played the past five seasons with Guerrero in Montreal. “I’m going to miss Vladi’s family as much as I’m going to miss him.”

Even as major league millionaires, Latin players tend to skip the $100 dinner at a ritzy steakhouse, preferring fellowship in language and culture accompanied by a traditional meal that includes rice and beans.

“When the Latin guys come into Anaheim, I’ll bet they’ll be over at Vladi’s house having dinner,” Angel General Manager Bill Stoneman said.

Altagracia Alvino always will worry about her son, the stunningly rich athlete. She can live near him here and with him in California, but she cannot be everywhere. Her comfort is revealed in six words, posted above the front door to the family home: Las Grandes Victorias Se Obtienen Orando. The Biggest Victories Come From Prayer.

No matter how colossal his new house here might be, no matter that he might no longer live across the street, Guerrero cannot envision a day ever would pass without stopping by the family home. There is his house, and there is home. When Mom’s cooking, this is home.