CHICAGO — So much of baseball is about marching in lockstep. The league office controls how players dress on the field from their hats to their socks. Some teams ban facial hair. Warm-up routines, training regimens, pitch deliveries and swing mechanics usually follow tried-and-true methods. It all can be very familiar, comfortable and predictable.

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And then there is Felipe Vázquez.

The Pirates closer was known as Felipe Rivero until March 26, when he legally changed his surname. He kept that a secret until Tuesday, when the back of his grey road jersey read “Vázquez” for the first time. His nickname — Nightmare, a warning for sorts or ninth-inning batters — remains the same.

Vázquez was hurling triple-digit fastballs back before every other bullpen guy, even the middle relievers, started throwing 100 mph. Will he work multiple innings? Sure. Close out both games of a doubleheader? Of course.

His walkout music is “Aguanile,” which is a nod to the Afro-Cuban religion Santería that Vázquez practices and includes a chant to Oggun, an ancient god of war. Hearing it blare from the public address system was a bit of culture shock to the folks at PNC Park, who were accustomed to old-school FM radio standbys such as “Thunderstruck,” “Sweet Emotion” and “Big Bull Rider.”

He sports a two-tone hairstyle, with the bushy top of his head dyed a dark gold. His arms and neck are tattooed. And Vázquez owns one of the easiest, warmest smiles in the clubhouse.

“That’s just the way I am,” Vázquez said. “I’m a fun guy and I like to joke around. I don’t get mad that easy. I’m a happy person, a free spirit. Like (pitching coach) Ray (Searage) always tells me, I’m just a big kid playing baseball.”

Vázquez changed his surname to match that of his half-sister, Prescilla Vázquez Cosme. It’s something they’ve been considering doing for years.

“My sister decided it was time. If she says something, I just get it done and that’s the way it is,” he said. “Her last name is Vázquez and mine was Rivero, so before we didn’t seem like (siblings), Now, we do.”

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The brother and sister have different fathers. Their mother lives in their native Venezuela, along with “six or seven” other siblings, Vázquez said. (Chat with Vázquez for a while, and you’ll quickly learn that while he’s easy to talk to, he is not always keen on providing exact details.)

Neither Vázquez nor his sister have seen their mother in several years. The political unrest in Venezuela and Vázquez’s success in America — he signed a four-year, $22 million contract extension in January — makes it too risky for them to return home.

“I don’t post pictures (on social media) of me with her, so no one knows who my mom is,” Vázquez said. “I’m working on getting her a visa, so she can be here this year.”

During the offseason, Vázquez lives with his sister, her husband and their four children in central Florida. She works as a realtor and also helps manage her brother’s baseball career.

“Everyone has that little person who tells you, ‘Do this. Don’t do that. This will be better for you.’ For me, that’s my sister,” Vázquez said. “She always tells me stuff at the right time.”

Vázquez and his sister call each other dozens of times a day. She’s an early riser, so Vázquez is never surprised when his cell phone buzzes at 4 a.m. 

“In the States, it’s just me and her. That’s why we are so close,” he said. “We do everything together. We got to (the ballpark) and leave together. Actually, sometimes, we’ll sleep together. She has her husband, but some days he’s not home.”

Last season, Vázquez fired his agent and switched to Scott Boras. When his sister soured on Boras, Vazquez quickly dumped him and hired Francis Marquez of Magnus Sports.

“She kept saying, ‘I don’t like (Boras).’ And I said, ‘Well, what do you want?’ ” Vázquez said. “This guy (Marquez) that she knows … I called them and they were at my house the next day. My sister was pretty happy.”

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It was Vázquez’s sister who gave Marquez the go-ahead for the contract extension. Some agents and industry insiders shake their heads at the deal, believing Vázquez left money on the table by signing a long-term agreement in the first of his four years of arbitration eligibility. Vazquez isn’t bothered by the doubters.

“My sister is my real agent,” Vázquez said with a laugh. “Sometimes when I wake up, I’ll see her on the phone and say, ‘Who are you talking to?’ and she says, ‘My agent.’ I say, ‘He’s my agent, not yours.’ She’s the one who makes the decisions. I’m happy with that. She’s older than me. She knows everything.”

The siblings co-own a ranch and a candle shop in Florida. She also is helping Vázquez set up a charitable foundation that will collect baby supplies to ship to Venezuela.

Over the winter, Vázquez asked his Twitter followers to contribute diapers, wipes and other items. Most of the donations came from people in Pittsburgh, he said.

“I posted it on Monday. But Thursday, I was getting boxes in the mail,” Vázquez said. “I was like, ‘What is going on?’ The guy who works at the store called and said, ‘You got a big box today.’ I went to the store, and I saw it was three boxes.”

The impromptu gesture netted Vázquez four large boxes full of items and several hundred dollars in donations. A friend flew the supplies to Venezuela, where he sneaked them past government officials, who Vázquez said are confiscating most of the supplies sent from the outside world.

“I don’t know how (the friend) got it there,” Vázquez said, this time being coy for a good reason. “As long as it’s going to the kids, I don’t mind.”

The foundation Vázquez hopes to establish will enable him to gather more gear and for additional clandestine flights to Venezuela. He also would like to set up some sort of personal donation, perhaps a dollar amount for each save he registers this summer, but hasn’t finalized the details.

Meanwhile, the transition to Vázquez’s new identity has begun. A few of the fellas in the bullpen started calling him Vázquez during the last homestand. Manager Clint Hurdle has always called him simply Felipe in the clubhouse.

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“I always use last names on the bullpen phone, so we might have a hiccup or two along the way,” Hurdle said.

But what about the 20,000 custom-made Felipe Rivero bobbleheads the Pirates plan to give away before the Sept. 8 game against the Miami Marlins?

“They’ve got plenty of time to fix them,” Vázquez said, grinning. “Just put ‘Nightmare’ on there instead.”

(Top photo credit: Rick Osentoski/USA Today)