How a Suburban White Kid Came to Work at Vlad Guerrero's Dominican Academy

Near the end of last year, several photos and videos of Vladimir Guerrero's 15-year-old son Vlad Jr. began to appear on the internet.

The photos were picked up by several prominent baseball websites, whose write-ups marveled at the fact that Guerrero—who has not played since 2011 and only officially retired last year—not only had a son of that age, but had a son who appeared to be a tremendous prospect. In fact, Vlad Jr. looked like an exact copy of his father. He was big and broad and took long, powerful hacks at the plate.

The videos hit every nostalgic nerve of baseball fans who missed the wild-swinging Guerrero, a cult hero for the reckless way in which he played the game. Vlad would swing at everything and hit everything—and who couldn't admire, and even, envy someone with that philosophy? If only we were all so bold as to spend our lives swinging at every pitch. Vlad did that and mounted a career worthy of, at the very least, Hall of Fame consideration.

And now, here were videos—highly trafficked videos—showing that another Vlad existed. There was hope. Where did this glimmer of hope come from?

The majority of photos and videos were posted on Twitter by someone named Matt Hall, who in his bio said he worked for the Guerrero Baseball Academy. From the looks of it, Hall was a white American kid in his 20s, more or less the last person you'd expect to be working for the Guerrero family in the Dominican Republic. Club representatives were equally confused, trying to figure out who exactly was this kid posting these videos. Where had he come from?

Like many teenaged boys, Matthew Marotta wanted a career in baseball. But early in his awkward adolescence, he realized that a professional baseball career was probably not going to happen. Still, Marotta was undeterred. At age 14, he devised a way to get into the commercial side of the game, turning his autograph collecting hobby into a business. He collected baseball cards and memorabilia and then tried to get signatures at Nationals Park, which was close to his Virginia home.

He soon found this to be a mostly empty endeavor. Most players wouldn't sign. But Marotta got aggressive. He would show up at the visiting team's hotel and then wait near the lobby and ask players to sign. Most did. Marotta enjoyed the brief interactions. Some players were nice. Some weren't. But he was fascinated to be among these famous people even for just a second. It was a world that intrigued him.

Soon, Marotta had accumulated an extensive collection, more items than he really knew what to do with. So he decided to sell some on eBay. To his initial surprise, these items sold quickly and for a high price.

The more successful he became, the more Marotta wanted to expand his business. Soon, he was making enough money from these autographs that he was able to offer players hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars in exchange for signing as many as 50 or 100 items. To Marotta's surprise, players took the cash, signed the items, and even sort of befriended him.

One of those friendly players was Torii Hunter. In the summer of 2008, Marotta had Hunter sign several items and was also able to wrangle some tickets for a Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim game against the Washington Nationals.

Marotta sat in the family section for the game. Nearby, nearly 30 people dressed in Vladimir Guerrero Angels jerseys loudly cheered each time Guerrero came to the plate. During the game, Marotta, who had brought along a bunch of items to get signed, approached the Guerrero family and introduced himself. He took out several of the Guerrero items he had brought and gave them to one of Guerrero's cousins.

Marotta explained that Vlad was one of the toughest gets in the autograph game. Since Guerrero wasn't likely to sign anything for him, the family might as well have the items.

One of Guerrero's cousins asked him: "You want to meet him tonight?"

Sure, Marotta responded. After the game, Marotta went back to the hotel, and ended up in Guerrero's room where about 25 people were hanging out, drinking beers, and playing dominoes.

"I was the only white guy there," Marotta recalled.

Shortly afterward, Guerrero came into the room and shook everyone's hands—including Marotta's.

"We didn't talk much," said Marotta.

That night Guerrero treated everyone in the room like they were family. Marotta couldn't believe his luck. He was living a dream. And when the night ended, Marotta's luck got even better. One of Guerrero's cousins gave Marotta his number and told him to keep in touch.

Marotta did. Over the course of the next several years a most unlikely friendship developed between Marotta, the white kid from suburban Virginia, and the Guerrero family, who had become fond of the boy who had offered them memorabilia and had asked for nothing in return.

Each time Guerrero's team played in Baltimore, Marotta would visit with him and his family. When Guerrero signed with the Orioles in 2011, Marotta would often spend several weeks at a time at Guerrero's apartment hanging out. Marotta mostly communicated with Guerrero's cousins, who spoke English and lived in New York. But he'd sometimes interact with Vlad too, although it wasn't easy.

"Vlad thinks he knows English, but he doesn't know much English at all," Marotta said.

By the end of that summer, Marotta had earned a nickname—"Margarita" meaning daisy, the white-petaled flower—and an offer to visit the Guerreros in the Dominican during the winter.

In January 2012, Marotta travelled to Nizao, Dominican Republic and spent several weeks in Guerrero's hometown. He was astonished by what he saw. Many of the houses were in ruins. Hardly anyone had electricity. But Guerrero still lived just a few feet from the home where he grew up.

"You could see how important his people and his family were to him," said Marotta. "He's just a normal guy."

During that stay, Marotta befriended Guerrero's older brother Wilton, a former major leaguer, who had been training kids at the family's home, including Guerrero's son Vladimir Jr. and a couple other players, Gregory Guerrero and Edison Valdez, who appeared to be prospects.

Marotta took an interest in the training, and Wilton invited him to return to the Dominican some day to help out with the prospects.

By the summer of 2014, Vlad Jr. and the two other kids had become top prospects. Dozens of teams were interested in signing them. Soon afterward, Marotta—who had graduated that May from Virginia Commonwealth University with a degree in strategic advertising, communications, and a minor in business—was on a plane headed for Nizao. He was picked up at the airport by one of Guerrero's friends, who did not speak English.

At that point, Marotta spoke little to no Spanish. He was dropped off at the house and he wondered whether he had made the right decision. But just like he had done with his memorabilia business, Marotta committed to making it work. He spent the first couple of months trying to learn Spanish.

"There wasn't a second where I wasn't listening to music, watching TV, reading the dictionary or talking to people," he said.

His duties at the academy consisted mostly of picking up after practice, cleaning baseballs, and performing other odd jobs. He did whatever the Guerreros asked.

"He was a person who wanted to learn Spanish, wanted to learn about our culture and our baseball culture," Wilton Guerrero said in Spanish. "Doors have opened up for him because he's been so willing to learn."

Marotta then started a blog and Twitter account. To keep some anonymity, he used the alias "Matthew Hall."

"It was mostly for my friends to see what I was doing, but then it got big," he said. "We thought we could get more attention for our guys. We used it as a platform. We had Vladdy Jr. so we could bring attention to everyone."

His first video of Vladdy Jr. got 250,000 views in just a couple days. Many more scouts contacted the academy. Unexpectedly, Marotta had created a phenomenon.

"He gave us a great push so that the whole world knew about us," Wilton Guerrero said.

Marotta, 22, recently arrived home to Virginia from his nearly eight-month stay in Nizao. By the time he left, his role had evolved from those early days. While he sometimes still cleaned baseballs or helped out around the Guerrero house, he had also become a liaison for the Guerrero family and team scouts.

And after practice, he taught the academy's players English and told them what to expect if they ended up playing in the United States. He showed them a U.S. map so he could point out where some of these teams actually played. He taught them about contracts. He taught them how to invest their money.

Marotta had become an important part of the academy.

He had returned home with a valuable cultural experience, but also with a possible career. The Guerreros have talked to him about working with them as an agent, who would negotiate contracts for the prospects.

"We want him to work for us in Santo Domingo and in the U.S.," Wilton Guerrero said.

Marotta had never really grown up wanting to be an agent, and he certainly never imagined he'd ever be spending time in Latin America, but now he is intrigued by both prospects. After all, he always wanted a career in the game. Marotta realizes he could use his experiences in the Dominican to vault him ahead of all the other young agent types, and he could rely on the Guerrero name to get him access to places unavailable to others.

If you are thinking it seems improbable that a simple gesture by an awkward teenager has spawned a career in baseball, well, that's exactly how Marotta sees it, too. He never imagined he'd be hanging out in Vladimir Guerrero's luxury box, or getting to meet Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez at Camden Yards, or that he'd be attending Pedro Martinez's Hall of Fame induction party.

"Everyone thinks it's crazy," Marotta said. "This has opened all the doors to my future."