José Ramírez has spent years making himself impossible to overlook in Cleveland. The seven-time All-Star is again at the center of the Guardians’ October push, even with the spotlight lately fixed on the defensive mistake that helped the Rays take Game 2 of the ALCS.
Game 3 is set for Thursday at Progressive Field, and Cleveland will turn to the player who has already carried a heavy share of the club’s postseason load. Ramírez shook off an injury-hit regular season and a difficult start to the Division Series against the White Sox, then changed the temperature of the Guardians’ run.
Quick facts
- Ramírez has gone 5-for-12 with five runs, seven RBIs, two home runs, a double and a triple across his last three postseason games.
- He signed with Cleveland for $50,000 in 2009 after scouts saw him unexpectedly at a showcase.
- At 34, he is three regular-season homers from joining Alex Rodriguez as the only infielders with 300 homers, 400 doubles, 300 steals and 1,000 RBIs.
- His career total stands at 60.3 bWAR, while his seven-year peak is 44.7 bWAR.
- He helped finance the $2.7 million José Ramírez Field in Cleveland and restored the field where he learned the game in Baní, Dominican Republic.
In the Game 5 clincher of the ALDS, Ramírez reached down and drove a curveball that was nearly in the dirt for a defining homer. He followed with a three-hit performance in Cleveland’s Game 1 ALCS victory. Chase DeLauter summed up the effect simply, calling Ramírez “the G.O.A.T.” and saying his energy lifts the whole clubhouse.
There is no mystery about his standing inside the room. Around Cleveland, he is José, not “J-Ram,” a nickname he dislikes. “Hosey” is acceptable, but the man wearing No. 11 has become recognizable enough that he hardly needs a label.
His Hall of Fame résumé is already substantial. Ramírez has been an American League MVP finalist four times, and his statistical profile is closing in on rare company among third basemen, shortstops and second basemen. Postseason success had been the missing piece in the broader conversation; this October has supplied fresh evidence of his biggest-game value.
Still, the appeal goes beyond the totals. At 5-foot-8, Ramírez plays with the old-school look of a player who is forever forcing the defense to make another decision. Dirty pants, loose helmets and aggressive turns around the bases are part of the package, but so is the detail behind it.
In the ninth inning of Game 1, Ramírez stole third before Jo Adell sent a ground ball through the left side. Ramírez had anticipated the sequence: Kevin Kelly’s changeup, Adell’s likely rollover grounder, and the chance to pull third baseman Junior Caminero toward the bag. The opening appeared where Ramírez expected it, and he scored.
That kind of preparation explains why one bad hop on the Tropicana Field turf in Game 2 should not be mistaken for a lapse in instincts. Ramírez will move away from the on-deck area to study a pitcher’s release. He hunts advantages with leads, stolen bases and pressure throws, then urges younger Guardians to notice the same openings.
“When these guys really focus and pay attention to the game, we score a lot of runs,” Ramírez has said. On a roster stocked with younger players and built with financial restraint, that instruction carries weight.
Ramírez’s road began in Baní, where he crossed the Río Baní from a rural home without running water to play on a rough dirt field. He used an undersized glove and played Vitilla with caps from water jugs serving as baseballs. A clinic run by former AL MVP Miguel Tejada, where equipment and food were distributed, became an important childhood memory.
He was undersized and often younger than the players around him, taking part in rugged adult leagues as a 13-year-old. At one point, a machete hanging behind home plate served as a threatening reminder of the stakes in those games. Scouts did not arrive expecting to see Ramírez; he was frequently the extra player at workouts.
Then Cleveland scouting director John Mirabelli and scout Ramon Peña saw him fill in at a 2009 showcase and pile up hits. Peña pressed the case, and the organization signed him for $50,000. Chris Antonetti has noted that Ramírez was not a highly celebrated prospect and did not receive extra chances because of a large signing bonus.
That chance created a lasting bond. Before the 2022 season, with the Guardians considering a trade before his final two years of control, Ramírez pushed to remain in Cleveland. He told his agent he would prefer $150 million with the Guardians to $200 million elsewhere because he valued his life and security in the city.
His current deal runs through his age-39 season. “Cleveland is everything to me,” Ramírez has said, pointing to the organization’s belief in him when few others were willing to offer an opportunity.
That loyalty has traveled beyond the ballpark. Alongside Cleveland Guardians Charities, Ramírez funded José Ramírez Field, which serves Lincoln-West High School and the city’s Nike RBI program. The road nearby now bears his name, José Ramírez Way.
He has also helped grow MLB’s Fun At-Bat program in the area and supported the complete renovation of the difficult field in Baní where he first played. Ramírez credits his late grandmother, Santa Ramírez, for teaching him to share what he has earned. “Those kids in the D.R. have no alternative,” he said. “That’s why I feel it’s really important to help.”
For all his edge between the lines, Ramírez takes pride in respecting opponents. The 2023 confrontation with Tim Anderson produced a popular “Down Goes Anderson” slogan in Cleveland, but Ramírez was uncomfortable with the attention from it. He has said he does not want to embarrass anyone or be regarded as a problem, only to play hard and set the right example.
He describes baseball as a disciplined way to learn respect for others. The intensity is real, but it is paired with a lighter clubhouse presence. Ramírez has worn jewelry and belts featuring his own image, teased Shohei Ohtani by declaring himself more handsome, and told Freddie Freeman that Freeman was among the best hitters — behind Ramírez, of course.
He chirps during Mario Kart, taps teammates on the head when he wants their attention and has his own answer for a smashed tablet after a poor at-bat: “Bro, settle down, that iPad can’t hit.” He will take another player’s defensive spot during batting practice and joke about how simple the job looks.
When the in-game reporter asks what pitch he hit for a home run, Ramírez’s response is reliably the same. That mix of game awareness, production, loyalty and humor is why he remains more than Cleveland’s best player. He is the pulse of a club still playing deep into October.
