Two hours before taking the field for the game that would give his team the division title, the Angels' best hitter is sitting on the floor in a tiny room behind home plate at Angel Stadium, a Bible in his lap.
Vladimir Guerrero may fear no pitcher, but he's a little nervous about God.
"I comfort myself with the Bible," Guerrero says. "It's like having my family there."
In that case, Guerrero is truly blessed on this morning because he has both: the good book and members of his extended family, namely the handful of Spanish-speaking teammates he gathers every Sunday for a short chapel service led by broadcaster Jose Mota.
Today's reading comes from Galatians 2:20, in which Paul talks about commitment and example. So Mota asks the players to name the person whose example they've followed in life.
Guerrero breaks into a wide smile. It's as if Mota has thrown a batting practice fastball right in his wheelhouse.
"My mother," he says.
So there you have it: The man many American League pitchers dread most is, at heart, a God-fearing, Bible-toting mama's boy.
Starting today, he might have to be a little bit more than that if the Angels are to go deep into the postseason. When last seen in the playoffs, Guerrero was going one for 20 with one run batted in in a one-sided 2005 AL Championship Series loss to the eventual World Series champion Chicago White Sox. A similar series against the Boston Red Sox could have equally disappointing consequences for the Angels.
Guerrero, however, has faith that won't happen.
"That's passed," he says of 2005. "This is another year. You have to try to deal with whatever God puts in front of you and see what we can do with this playoff."
The scouting report on Guerrero says don't throw him a strike. And don't throw him a ball either. He hits those even harder.
"There's no way to pitch him," says Seattle's Jarrod Washburn, a former teammate. "He can hit any pitch out of the park. Off-speed, fastball in off the plate, away off the plate, down, up.
"He's a freak."
But while that's the book on Guerrero, the book for him is the one he says he's never without.
"I take my Bible everywhere I go," he says.
That's a habit he picked up from his mother Altagracia Alvino, a solid, dark-haired woman who has known mostly struggle in her nearly 60 years on Earth. She is warm and gracious at most times, but her eyes, accented by wire-rim glasses, are serious, suggesting she is not a person to be trifled with.
