# Vladimir Guerrero Jr. Reveals Heart-Wrenching Ordeal: “I Almost Lost My Daughters – And My Swing Forever”
In the quiet glow of a Toronto hotel suite, far from the roaring crowds of Rogers Centre, Vladimir Guerrero Jr. sat across from Sports Illustrated’s veteran reporter, his broad shoulders slumped under an invisible weight.
The Toronto Blue Jays’ superstar first baseman, fresh off a grueling World Series run that saw his team fall just short to the Los Angeles Dodgers in seven heart-pounding games, wiped away tears that traced familiar paths down his cheeks.
It was December 2, 2025 – just weeks after the Jays clinched their first American League pennant since 1993, a triumph fueled by Guerrero’s ALCS MVP heroics, including three postseason homers and a .397 batting average that etched his name deeper into Blue Jays lore.
But on this chilly evening, the man known as Vladdy wasn’t talking about his .333 World Series clip or the $500 million extension that binds him to Toronto through 2039. No, this was raw, unfiltered vulnerability – a two-hour confession about the six-month nightmare that nearly shattered his world.
“I almost lost my two daughters, Vlaimel and Vlaishel,” Guerrero said, his voice cracking like a fastball hitting a catcher’s mitt. “There were nights I held them in the hospital, praying to God it wasn’t real. And through it all, I thought I’d never swing a bat again.
Not like before.” The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the electric energy of October’s playoffs, where Guerrero’s grand slam in Game 2 of the ALDS against the Yankees – the first in Blue Jays postseason history – had fans chanting his name from Vancouver to the Dominican Republic.
Yet here, in the off-season hush, the 26-year-old phenom peeled back the armor, revealing a battle waged in secrecy, far from the diamond’s glare.
It started innocently enough, back in April 2025, just days after Guerrero inked that landmark 14-year deal – a $500 million pact with $325 million in signing bonuses, no deferrals, and no opt-outs, signaling Toronto’s unyielding commitment to their homegrown slugger.
The Jays, mired in last place the prior year with just 74 wins, were desperate for stability.
Guerrero, born in Montreal to Hall of Famer Vladimir Guerrero Sr., had long been their beacon – a .292 hitter with 23 homers and 84 RBIs in the regular season, earning his fifth All-Star nod and a 13th-place MVP finish.
But as the ink dried on the contract, life threw a curveball no amount of batting practice could prepare him for.
Vlaimel, Guerrero’s bright-eyed 8-year-old eldest, born on August 1, 2017, had always been his anchor. Photos from that summer capture them in the backyard of their Toronto home, crafting friendship bracelets under the watchful eye of Guerrero’s wife, Nathalie.
The couple, who met online in 2018 and wed in a private 2023 ceremony, built a life around quiet joys: Nathalie’s work with the Vladimir Guerrero Jr.
Foundation, aiding families in the Dominican Republic, the U.S., and Canada; lazy afternoons where Vlaimel, with her mischievous smile mirroring her father’s, practiced English phrases to help Vladdy polish his own fluency.
“Every time I come home from the ballpark, no matter what – even if I go 0-for-4 – when I see her, my day changes,” Guerrero had told MLB.com in August, beaming as Vlaimel led him through vocabulary drills.
Then came Vlaishel, the spirited 7-year-old bundle of energy born a year later, who turned playoff watch parties into impromptu dance floors. Nathalie often shared glimpses on Instagram – spaghetti-smeared grins at family dinners, Vlaishel posing with the Cleveland Guardians mascot during a Jays road trip.
These were the moments that grounded Guerrero amid the pressure of a rebuilding franchise, a city starved for glory since the back-to-back titles of 1992 and 1993.
But in late April, as the Jays surged to an AL East lead, the calls started. First from Nathalie: Vlaimel wasn’t eating, her energy sapped. Doctors in Toronto diagnosed a rare autoimmune flare-up, triggered by a viral infection – a storm ravaging her tiny immune system.
“She was my fighter, always scheming some joke,” Guerrero recalled, his dark eyes distant. “But seeing her hooked to machines, so small… I felt helpless.
Like all the power in my swing meant nothing.” Tests revealed complications; Vlaishel soon followed with similar symptoms, a genetic echo that turned their home into a triage ward. Nathalie, ever the rock, juggled hospital runs with foundation events, her posts shifting from celebratory to cryptic pleas for prayers.
Guerrero kept it locked away. Teammates noticed the shadows under his eyes during that hamstring tweak in August against the Pirates – a minor strain that sidelined him briefly amid a chaotic benches-clearing brawl in Pittsburgh.
“Vladdy’s our heart,” said Bo Bichette, the shortstop who earned second-team All-MLB honors alongside Guerrero’s first-team nod. “We knew something was off, but he said it was family stuff. We respected it.” Manager John Schneider echoed the sentiment: “He’s not just a star; he’s family.
Whatever he was carrying, it made his at-bats fiercer.”
And fierce they were. As the Jays clawed from early uncertainty – a 7-7 start marred by Guerrero’s contract holdout vibes – to 94 wins and a division crown, his bat became a lifeline.
That May surprise for Nathalie, unveiling a sleek new car in a viral video, masked the hospital vigils. Father’s Day cleats honoring his own dad, the 2018 Hall of Famer, hid the fear.
By July, as he unlocked more power in the cages with hitting coach Edwin Encarnación – chasing that elusive “A-swing” for deeper drives – Guerrero’s slugging climbed to .467, a quiet rebellion against despair.
The crisis peaked in June, during a homestand against the Rays. Vlaimel and Vlaishel were airlifted to a specialist in Boston, their conditions critical – fevers spiking, organs straining. Guerrero flew commercial after a doubleheader, arriving disheveled in a hoodie, bat bag slung over his shoulder like a talisman.
“I sat there, holding their hands, and all I could think was, ‘What if I lose them? What am I without this?'” he confessed. Baseball blurred; he missed two games, citing “personal reasons,” while Toronto scraped by on George Springer’s heroics.
Whispers swirled – trade rumors, despite the extension; doubts about his focus. But in the ICU’s fluorescent hum, Guerrero recommitted. “Swinging again? It was the only control I had. I’d visualize the tee drills, the pop of the ball. It kept me sane.”
Nathalie’s strength shone through. The 27-year-old, born in Canada with Dominican roots, channeled her pain into advocacy, quietly expanding the foundation’s health initiatives. “She’s my warrior,” Guerrero said, voice softening.
“Without her, I’d have crumbled.” By July’s All-Star break, the girls stabilized – experimental treatments, family prayers, and sheer will turning the tide.
Vlaimel, ever the optimist, left voicemails during the World Series: “Daddy, hit it far! For us!” Vlaishel’s tears of joy after Game 7 of the ALCS, as Guerrero clinched the pennant with a three-run bomb off Seattle’s closer, went viral – a raw snapshot of healing.
Now, with the Jays eyeing a 2026 redemption – whispers of Dylan Cease bolstering the rotation – Guerrero emerges transformed. That August hamstring scare? A footnote to the real fight.
His English flows smoother, laced with gratitude; he’s mentoring prospects like his brother Pablo, a Rangers farmhand echoing the family legacy. “Toronto’s home,” he insists, echoing the “Home is Here” campaign he voiced. “The fans, the city – they carried us when I couldn’t.”
As the interview wrapped, Guerrero pulled out his phone, showing a recent photo: Vlaimel and Vlaishel, rosy-cheeked at a holiday tree lighting, friendship bracelets dangling from tiny wrists. “They’re my why,” he said, smiling through fresh tears. “And the bat? It’s back.
Stronger.” For a league stunned by his silence, this revelation isn’t just a story – it’s a testament. In baseball’s relentless grind, where $500 million deals meet midnight doubts, Vladimir Guerrero Jr. reminds us: true power isn’t in the homer. It’s in the heart that swings through the storm.
