I've just returned from Phoenix, where I learned — once again — that first impressions usually aren't worth the brain cells it takes to make them.
On the shuttle from the airport I sat next to a wiry fellow with a wiry beard who was studying Spanish language verbs: to lend, to borrow, to avoid, to get around. I sized him up as a salesman looking to swindle illegal immigrants.
Turns out he was a Presbyterian minister headed to Mexico to help out at an orphanage there.
Not long after I saw a young woman in torn and tattered hillbilly overalls who I assumed was a tramp.
She was a college student performing locally as a clown.
But the biggest wake-up call came at the ballpark.
One reason I went to Phoenix was to write stories about spring training. So I eventually ended up in the clubhouse of the Los Angeles Angels, standing a few feet away from one of the great power hitters of the modern era, Vladimir Guerrero.
You seldom see interviews with Guerrero. He doesn't promote products. He doesn't do ESPN. He's a shadowy figure in dreadlocks with the frosty demeanor of a gladiator. Even his name — Guerrero — is ominous. It means "warrior."
I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a minute or two. He seemed aloof and alert, like a jungle cat. Then, on impulse, I turned to him and — in my finest Spanish — said, "Can we talk?"
He motioned to me to sit down.
I told him my Dominican friends said he was the Big Cheese, the Head Honcho of the Dominican Republic. I wanted him to feel important. But his answer disarmed me.
"No, que va," he said in a soft, shy voice. It meant, "What in the world gave you that idea?"
That's when I decided to focus on his life instead of his batting average.
He told me he'd wanted to be a baseball player since age 5. He wanted to be like his older brother. He told me about the small town where he grew up, where people hope only for "good health and a good job."
I asked if he felt a responsibility to the youngsters in Santo Domingo.
"Very much," he said. "Those of us here in the United States do whatever we can. We look for ways to lift the Dominican people."
Did he ever visit that old home town? All the time, he said.
"I take back baseballs, gloves and shoes for the kids," he said. "I try to encourage them."
Since that interview, I've learned that the Dominican Republic celebrated him with a national holiday. He has been honored by the Make-A-Wish Foundation for granting wishes to terminally ill children. He gave $50,000 to the victims of Hurricane Katrina and is deeply involved in helping Latino children with cancer. Each year he buys 127 tickets to Angels home games for disadvantaged kids.
So much for my first impression — that "shadowy figure in dreadlocks."
I must say, I've never been a fan of sluggers. I'm partial to the scrappers — the little guys who hit singles. In my book, the long-ball is overrated. But today, on my office bookcase, there's a photo of a slugger: Vladimir Guerrero — the big-hearted warrior.
E-mail: jerjohn@desnews.com