"He's like my son," Uribe said. "A lot of the guys, they'll say, 'Oh, look at him. He's your son. You're like a dad and his son.' It's good."
CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Jose Ramirez occupies the black, leather chair at his locker. He points at a nearby teammate and yells the words over and over.
"El Pavo. El Pavo. El Pavo."
Ramirez learned about the nickname minutes earlier. It didn't take long for him to start spreading the word.
Juan Uribe's belongings reside in a locker only a couple of spots from Ramirez's dwelling. It's about as far apart as the two have been since Uribe joined the Indians in spring training.
Uribe strolled into the Indians' clubhouse on this particular Sunday morning, as he always does, wearing sunglasses, a bright plaid dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, tight jeans and unblemished white loafers, with an unlit cigar dangling from his mouth and with an earbud attached to his right ear.
As Uribe settled in to his corner locker, Ramirez pointed at his teammate -- the one he calls "papa" and the one who calls him "hijo" -- and shouted the newly discovered moniker.
"El Pavo. El Pavo."
The Turkey. The Turkey.
In the Dominican, Uribe said -- from where both he and Ramirez hail -- it's common to attain a nickname for one's appearance or one's style of walking. Ramirez's teammates routinely mimic his walk, a proud, brash strut, in which he bounces from left foot to right foot.
Uribe earned his nickname in a similar fashion.
"Look at that body," Carlos Santana says, gazing at his teammate's build.
All Uribe can do is laugh. He has been poking fun at major-league teammates for 16 years, a long-time clubhouse ringleader. He can take a joke, especially one delivered by the player many Indians refer to as "Mini Me," a nickname Ramirez received because "he's too short," Santana said.
"He's like my son," Uribe said through team translator Anna Bolton. "A lot of the guys, they'll say, 'Oh, look at him. He's your son. You're like a dad and his son.' It's good."
Ramirez returns the favor.
"I always mess around with him and call him Dad," he said, via Bolton. "I respect him a lot."
Juan Uribe's build and walking style earned him the nickname, 'El Pavo,' or 'The Turkey.'Tony Dejak/AP
Uribe broke into the big leagues with Colorado in 2001, when Ramirez was 8. The Indians -- his seventh team -- signed Uribe in February to give third baseman Giovanny Urshela more time to progress at Triple-A. Uribe hasn't exactly tormented opposing pitchers; he owns a .232/.296/.324 slash line, with two home runs and 13 RBI in 159 plate appearances.
He has, however, provided what manager Terry Francona termed "a very calming influence."
"He's always smiling," Francona said. "He goes, 'Hey, play me when you want. Just tell me where to go.' He's been there and done it many times. I know that when he talks, they listen. Everybody enjoys him. I mean, how could you not?"
What about when Uribe walks into the manager's office and snags one of Francona's cigars? Francona welcomed the veteran infielder to take one, but his arsenal quickly dwindled to four cigars.
"He's made [almost] $60 million [in his career]," Francona quipped. "Buy your own cigars. But no, he'll come in and say something in broken English, [something] funny. When you're always smiling, it's a nice way to go through life."
Uribe needs the cigar to complete his wardrobe. It offers another element when he walks into the clubhouse and yells, "What's up, baby?"
"There are days that he dresses better," Ramirez said. "There are days that I dress better."
Cleveland Indians' Jose Ramirez, lower-center, and Juan Uribe, upper center, are greeted in the dugout after Uribe scored Ramirez with a sacrifice fly in the fourth inning of a baseball game against the Seattle Mariners, Monday, June 6, 2016, in Seattle.Ted S. Warren/AP
Uribe heads to his locker, sits in his chair and waves a thick wad of cash next to his ear. He hasn't noticed that Santana moved his No. 4 uniform to Ramirez's locker.
"A lot of people would like to be here, playing in the major leagues," Uribe said. "I have this opportunity to be here that so many others want. I should be happy."
The Indians are happy with the influence Uribe has had on Ramirez, who has provided constant production in the lineup. The 23-year-old boasts a .315/.384/.461 slash line, with 15 doubles. He has walked as many times as he has struck out (17) and he has filled in for Michael Brantley in left field, despite a lack of experience at the position.
"I'm really proud of Jose," Uribe said. "I told him in spring training that he has a chance to play every single day. I told him, 'You have a lot of talent and now that you're young, take advantage of this moment and work hard.' He has the chance to make money and be a ballplayer. Show the coaches and manager that you have a hunger to play."
There's nothing like fatherly advice.
"He has so much experience and he wants to transmit that to the younger players," Ramirez said.
Of course, Uribe supplements his wisdom to his "son" with some humor. He mocks Ramirez's confident, swagger-filled stride, as he spreads his shoulders wide and walks toward his locker. He also laughs about Ramirez's frequent helmet losses. Ramirez's helmet has slipped off of his head on the basepaths on 13 occasions this season.
"I always laugh every time his helmet falls off," Uribe said. "It's because of all of the hair that he has, that it falls off. The same thing used to happen to Hanley Ramirez [when we were] on the Dodgers. Every time he would swing, his helmet would fall off and I would say, 'Come on, how can this happen?' That would never happen to me."
Uribe especially enjoyed Ramirez's demonstration in Houston last month, as his helmet slipped off of his head, struck his foot and then landed on his back as he slid into second base.
"I was laughing really hard at that," Uribe said.
Many times, it's Ramirez laughing at "El Pavo."
"They look like father and son," Santana said. "Uribe is good to have around. He gives the team good energy."
Jose Ramirez and the flying helmet trick