KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Salvador Perez grew up in a barrio of Valencia, Venezuela, in a humble home with dirt floors. Abandoned by his father and surrounded by despair and crime, who knew where that life might go?

But he was possessed with what might be considered a transcendent inner compass. One set both innately and by his doting and resilient grandmother, Carmen Ramos, and mother, Yilda Diaz.

Yilda exuded a relentless work ethic, including cleaning houses and making Venezuelan pastries to sell, animated by an exuberant spirit.

That was why she sang and danced as she cooked, for instance. And why she almost always indulged her little boy wielding the broomstick and pleading, “Mama, pitch to me!”

So she’d throw him corn kernels and bottle tops to sharpen his hand-eye coordination, and she signed him up for baseball by the time he was 4.

Years later over lunch at his home outside Kansas City, they talked about those sweet days and all that seemed to buoy her boy through such hardship around them.

When “happiness” came up in the conversation, Perez smiled and said he would simply define it as the word “baseball.”

Turns out, though, that baseball wasn’t just a gift to Perez. One that led him to the Royals and a career that once was unfathomable — in part illustrated by the happenstance of a German shepherd breaking away from his handler at a tryout and chasing Perez into the fastest 60-yard dash he ever ran.

Along the way, baseball became his gift to us and, really, to the world.

Or, perhaps more accurately, baseball became the vehicle for his gift to all — a treasure underscored in a brilliant new way Monday when he was named the 2024 Roberto Clemente Award recipient.

Because it’s never been just about how Perez performs but about how he plays the game … and lives his life.

Perez became the first Royal to win what Major League Baseball calls its most prestigious individual player honor, named for the marvelous outfielder whose humanitarian deeds off the field made him one of the most admirable athletes in history.

A news release cited Perez’s “extraordinary efforts to build healthy and active communities in his native Valencia, Venezuela, his baseball home of Kansas City, Mo. and beyond.” And it presented a dazzling list of his efforts that were to be recognized before Game 3 of the World Series on Monday night at Yankee Stadium.

Efforts such as extraordinary food and medical support in Valencia, paying for surgeries for children with cleft lips, support for police officers and bolstering the Carlos Fortuna Foundation in Colombia financially and through visits there — once at “significant personal risk” crossing the border on foot to lend aid during the COVID-19 shutdown.

Efforts like working with Braden’s Hope for Childhood Cancer and partnering with organizations fighting against ALS, particularly Sarah’s Soldiers led by my friend Sarah Nauser — who in 2022 presented Perez with the Lou Gehrig Memorial Award.

And so much more giving and goodwill from the nine-time All-Star and 2015 World Series MVP who at age 34 had one of his best seasons. Along the way, he helped resuscitate the Royals from a 106-loss 2023 into their first postseason berth in nine years.

Those are all wonderful things to know and read about Perez, who considers Kansas City his adoptive home and spoke with me this summer about all he loves here.

But what’s also beautiful is that his generosity of heart and soul behind the scenes is the same way he lives every day for us all to see.

It’s the sort of phenomenon that would almost be necessary to invent if he didn’t really exist.

As former Royal Danny Duffy once put it: “He’s authentic. His happiness, and his love and passion for the game, is authentic. There’s nothing artificial about it, and I think that kind of thing is contagious in a clubhouse, to a fan-base, to an entire city.”

Picture the montage:

The shimmering smile and the Salvy Splash. The booming, jolly voice that always precedes his arrival. That grin as he talked about wearing perfume on his uniform to appeal to home-plate umpires.

His hilarious and endless teasing and videoing of Lorenzo Cain, a dynamic that Perez deemed necessary because there’s too much “serious in the game. … Go out happy and play the game happy.”

Then there’s the magic of the Wiffle ball pop-in a few weeks back, a gesture honored by another august institution, the Musial Awards. And his dedication to his mother.

But as much as we know him for his sheer joy, Perez is more than just a mirth-maker.

He’s an example and a rock, an anchor and a haven. A human hug.

Think of the zealous way he has worked back from injuries — and the absurd way he seems to shrug off immense pain.

And the way he always makes time to speak and pose with fans and families at Kauffman Stadium who are enduring painful times.

How he comforted teammates and Yordano Ventura’s family in Las Terrenas during Ventura’s funeral, where I’ll never forget him consoling Ventura’s mother and giving a eulogy at Ventura’s childhood field.

In an interview with Royals beat writers, Perez spoke of his admiration of Clemente and called this “the second-best award” he’s ever won, other than winning the 2015 World Series.

And he also spoke of his motivation — pointing back to a childhood that made all this seem impossible but also explains why he knows his hard-earned privilege comes with great responsibility.

“I know where I come from,” he said. “Everything starts (with) where I come from. And, when you make it to this level, you have the opportunity to help people.”

Like a beacon of light, one that not only betters his childhood and adoptive homes but also honors each with his deeds and presence.

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