How Vlad Kept Me Connected to Home

By Caín Díaz

August 9, 2005. A mild, breezy summer evening at Oakland Coliseum. Top of the second inning, with the Angels leading the A’s, 2-0. Bases loaded, and a very big, very baaaad man coming to the plate.

“Here comes a grand slam. Just watch,” I proclaim.

I’m confident about this. Predicting homers runs in the family, I tell myself. My grandfather loved predicting home runs — I grew up swearing he was a magician. Sitting up in the left-field bleachers, I secretly hoped some of that magic was in my DNA.

“Vlad hitting a grand slam? I wouldn’t doubt it,” says the A’s fan next to me in the outfield seats.

Angel Fan in A’s Country

I left Inglewood in the summer of 2003 to attend UC Berkeley. Born and raised in SoCal, it wasn’t easy transitioning to a Northern California lifestyle. It probably didn’t help that I was an unabashed Angels fan, now living in Athletics territory.

That first year of college was a challenge. Everyone talks about the “freshman 15,” but nobody seems to bring up the other aspect of college life that is just about guaranteed for any 18-year-old living hundreds of miles from home: self-doubt.

Do I belong here? Am I good enough? Will I succeed? Why the heck did I pick architecture as a major?

It’s easy to get lost in that cycle of angst. But sports, like always, kept me sane. And it certainly didn’t hurt to have the Angels, world champions in 2002, helping me along.

‘He’ll Swing at Anything’

Righty Rich Harden was on the mound. First pitch: foul ball. Second pitch: foul ball. Third pitch: foul ball. I’m actually not sure how Vlad didn’t strike out there, I’m thinking. That was probably 100 feet outside the zone.

Vlad’s approach to baseball wasn’t all that complicated. See the ball, swing hard at the ball, hit the ball. There’s a lot you can learn from that kind of simplicity.

“He’ll swing at anything,” says the A’s fan.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I say.

A Connection to Home

I’d just finished my freshman year at Cal, and a little hard work, some new friendships and the Angels had helped in erasing that self-doubt. Everything was coming up Cain. And I was hooked on the Angels, despite being away from home. Before the 2004 season, they’d signed that very big, very baaaad man: Vladimir Guerrero.

And immediately, he complemented the team in a way few others had done. That should come as no surprise, not when you add a player of his caliber. He batted .323 with the Expos, having hit 234 home runs in his eight years with the team. And at 29, it felt like he still had a lot of juice left.

Any time he stepped to the plate, the world slowed down, just slightly. You got the sense the crowd got a little quieter, as if the entire stadium held its breath, waiting for Vlad to smash one to the moon. Or a bloop single two feet from the plate. On a bounce.

The Angels were my connection home. When they were on TV, I felt as if I were back in Inglewood, watching them from our living room. If I was a ship lost at sea, Vlad and the Angels were the lighthouse, guiding me back home.

He was the American League MVP that year.

That slow trot

Fourth pitch: finally, a ball in play.

The sweet sound of the crack of a bat. A bat held by two powerful, callused, gloveless hands. The ball cuts through the evening sky, landing a few rows in front of us. Did I say the left field bleachers? He pulled it. That’s why they called him “Vlad the Impaler.” I look at the infield and see this giant, slowly trotting around the bases. And just like that, another four runs are tacked onto the scoreboard.

“I want to hate him so bad,” says the A’s fan. “But I just can’t. I bet he’ll be in the Hall of Fame someday.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I say.

Send me an Angel

On Saturday, Vladimir Guerrero will be inducted into the Angels Hall of Fame. It comes as no surprise, but serves as an excellent opportunity for me to think back to the days when he led the team to many wins — five division titles in six years — and won over the hearts of all Angels fans.

He earned his place in Anaheim. And soon, I’m sure, he’ll earn his place in Cooperstown. Maybe the first player to be enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum while wearing the haloed A?

I wouldn’t doubt it.

Featured Image: Kirby Lee / Getty Images Sport