Vladimir Guerrero Jr. revisited the uncanny meeting where Juan Soto’s destiny turned on a single sentence and a timeworn bat that felt almost prophetic.NL

Vladimir Guerrero Jr. just brought up an old anecdote that still gives fans goosebumps every time they hear it: the moment when young Juan Soto first met his “destined man”. Just one sentence, one look, and an old wooden bat in Guerrero’s hand completely changed the trajectory of Soto’s career, as if fate had arranged it before both of them stepped into the Major League.

In the sweltering heat of a Dominican Republic afternoon in 2014, under the watchful eyes of Washington Nationals scouts, a scene unfolded that would etch itself into baseball lore. Three teenagers—Juan Soto, Vladimir Guerrero Jr., and Fernando Tatis Jr.—all no older than 16, gathered for what was supposed to be a routine tryout at the Nationals’ Dominican academy. The air hummed with the crack of bats and the distant calls of vendors hawking cold drinks outside the chain-link fence. Little did anyone know, this dusty field was about to become the birthplace of a generation’s worth of dominance in Major League Baseball.

Soto, then a lanky kid with a quiet intensity, had traveled from his hometown of Santo Domingo with dreams bigger than his frame. Tatis, equally promising with his electric athleticism, had joined him, the two friends buzzing with the nervous energy of prospects on the cusp. But it was Guerrero, just a year older and already carrying the weight of his legendary father’s name, who turned the day into something unforgettable. Handed an old wooden bat—cracked and worn from countless swings in backyard lots—the young Guerrero stepped into the cage for what scouts intended as a standard 30-minute batting practice session.

What followed was nothing short of mesmerizing. Guerrero unleashed a barrage of swings that sent baseballs soaring like missiles, some clearing the outfield fences by what Soto later estimated at 500 feet. The sound alone was otherworldly: a deep, resonant “boom” that echoed across the field, turning heads and silencing conversations. Soto and Tatis, relegated to shagging flies in the outfield, could only stand transfixed, their gloves forgotten at their sides. “We were just watching balls going out on the field. Boom! Boom! Boom! We were impressed,” Soto recounted years later in a viral clip shared by MLB on X, his voice still laced with awe.

The scouts, hardened veterans who’d seen their share of raw talent, were equally spellbound. After Guerrero’s session, they barely glanced at Soto and Tatis. The two budding stars got just a handful of swings each before the verdict came down: “You guys can go. Let’s talk to Vladdy.” It was a dismissal that stung in the moment but one that Soto now laughs about, recognizing it as the clearest sign of Guerrero’s preternatural gift. The Nationals, enamored, pushed hard to sign Guerrero that summer. Though he ultimately inked a deal with the Toronto Blue Jays in 2015 for $3.9 million—the largest international signing bonus at the time—the tryout had already planted seeds of inspiration in Soto’s mind.

That old wooden bat, unremarkable in its simplicity, became the symbol of destiny’s quiet hand. In Guerrero’s grip, it wasn’t just lumber; it was a wand that conjured power from thin air, a relic from the Dominican’s baseball underbelly where kids hone their craft on makeshift diamonds amid sugarcane fields and potholed streets. For Soto, watching Guerrero wield it was a revelation. “He was hitting balls all over the field,” Soto said, mimicking the explosive contact with wide-eyed exaggeration. “I thought, ‘This guy is different. He’s the one.’” In that instant, a big brother figure emerged—not through lectures or drills, but through sheer, undeniable prowess. Guerrero’s deep voice, steady and reassuring, might have offered a word of encouragement afterward, but it was the look in his eyes—focused, unyielding—that Soto carried forward. Confusion mixed with admiration washed over the younger boy, a cocktail of emotions that fueled his own relentless drive.

This wasn’t mere childhood reminiscence; it was the raw proof that baseball’s legends aren’t forged in the glare of stadium lights but hammered out in the humid obscurity of places like Santo Domingo. Guerrero, who hadn’t yet donned a Blue Jays uniform, accidentally stepped into the role of mentor, igniting a fire in Soto that would propel him to the majors at just 19. By 2018, Soto was the National League Rookie of the Year, slashing .292/.401/.517 and helping the Nationals to a World Series title in 2019. His plate discipline—otherworldly even then—evolved into a superpower, drawing walks like a magnet and launching home runs with surgical precision. And through it all, that tryout lingered as a touchstone, a reminder of the “destined man” who’d shown him what elite truly meant.

Fast-forward to 2025, and the anecdote resurfaced not from Guerrero himself, but from Soto, now a cornerstone of the New York Mets after signing a record-shattering 15-year, $765 million contract. In the clip, filmed amid the Mets’ preparations for a pivotal offseason, Soto’s laughter punctuates the tale, but his tone betrays the enduring reverence. Fans on social media erupted, dubbing it the “Avengers origin story” of MLB—a convergence of three Dominican dynamos whose paths have intertwined ever since. Tatis, now the face of the San Diego Padres with his $340 million extension, has shared similar tales of Guerrero’s youthful exploits, recounting how the slugger once crushed balls so far they seemed to mock gravity itself.

Guerrero Jr., for his part, has lived up to the hype. In 2025, he anchored the Blue Jays’ lineup with a .292 average, 23 homers, and 84 RBIs, earning his third All-MLB First Team nod alongside Soto. His defense at first base gleams with the same effortless power that defined that 2014 tryout, and off the field, he’s channeled his roots into the VG 27 Foundation, hosting charity home run derbies that echo the dusty fields of his youth. Together, these three have redefined Dominican excellence in the majors, combining for over 1,000 home runs, countless All-Star appearances, and a flair that captivates a global audience. Soto’s walk-off hits for the Yankees, Tatis’s highlight-reel plays, Guerrero’s moonshot blasts—they all trace back to that shared afternoon, where an old bat bridged boys to icons.

Every retelling stirs the same magic, like a slow-motion reel of crackling bats and wide-eyed wonder. It’s a story that humbles even the cynics, proving greatness often sprouts from the unlikeliest soil: a single sentence from a scout, a lingering gaze across a sun-baked diamond, and the thunderous report of wood on leather. In baseball’s grand tapestry, moments like these aren’t accidents; they’re engravings from the gods of the game, ensuring that two decades from now, kids in the Dominican will still whisper about the day young Soto met his destined man. And with each goosebump-inducing recount, the legend grows, reminding us why we fell in love with the sport in the first place.