CLEVELAND, Ohio -- He's trotting along on the infield dirt, completing that adrenaline-aided lap that has become more and more familiar.

The 24,000 or so standing in front of their green seats are chanting his first name, with a drawn-out cadence that can stick in one's head for hours.

Jose Ramirez can peer up and spot the Goodyear blimp. He can scan the camera bay and find an ESPN logo. He can gaze at the Indians' dugout and catch his teammates preparing to shower him with praise for yet another critical contribution at the plate.

Local T-shirt companies can't produce merchandise bearing his face (or his hair on a shades-sporting baseball) at a rapid enough pace. His first name serves as the title of a new blend of coffee. His last name can be found near the top of a plethora of statistical leaderboards.

Ramirez is the talk of the town.

It's not the first time for that sort of buzz. As a kid, Ramirez often hogged the spotlight on the diamond in his hometown of Bani in the Dominican Republic. His teammates and opponents thought he was older than indicated because he excelled at such a high level, even when playing with a broomstick and a water bottle cap.

Ramirez ultimately quit school at 14 to pursue his major-league dreams. Now, he's ready to represent the Indians, the Dominican Republic, his family and his fans as the American League's starting third baseman in the All-Star Game.

He has envisioned the moment his name is called and he jogs onto the field at Marlins Park.

"It's going to be something beautiful," he said.

'He's unbelievable to watch'

Some days, Ramirez dons a red T-shirt that depicts his likeness and the phrase, "Yes way, Jose." Other days, he'll wear a navy shirt that features a figure similar to the "Mini Jose" baseball his teammates crafted earlier this season. It displays a baseball with sunglasses and thick, blonde hair.

His teammates occasionally wear the shirts. Fans wear the shirts. The guy is everywhere.

A couple of years ago, Ramirez was relatively anonymous aside from his role as the placeholder at shortstop for Francisco Lindor. Now, he's an All-Star, and not just because of Tribe fans' furious dash to the digital ballot box on the final day of voting.

The 24-year-old boasts a .332/.388/.601 slash line at the break, with 17 home runs -- six more than he socked in 152 games last season. On Sunday night, he yanked a 97-mph fastball from All-Star hurler Michael Fulmer into the right-field seats for a crowd-awakening two-run blast before a national TV audience.

Ramirez fared well with the lumber last year, too, but this is a different level. He ranks tied for third in the AL in WAR (4.0), second in batting average, fourth in on-base percentage, third in slugging percentage and first in extra-base hits.

"It's surprising when he doesn't put a good at-bat together," said bench coach Brad Mills.

Consider his last 40 games, an unparalleled hitting clinic. In that stretch, Ramirez has compiled a .405/.450/.753 slash line, with more multi-hit games (22) than strikeouts (15). He has totaled 64 hits in all, half of them for extra bases.

"He's doing it all right now," said catcher Roberto Perez. "When he makes an out, it's hard contact. He's unbelievable to watch."

When the Indians held a commanding lead against the Padres last week, Mills wanted to rest Ramirez and Edwin Encarnacion for a few innings. Ramirez pleaded to remain in the game.

"He just wants to continue, not only just to play, but to have a chance maybe to get another at-bat and do something else with it," Mills said. "That's nice to see."

'They love me a lot'

Ramirez's parents and brother will join him in Miami for the All-Star festivities this week. He hasn't seen them since the beginning of the season, when they traveled to Cleveland to watch him.

Then, he was an infielder with a freshly signed contract extension, a guy hoping to prove his collection of timely hits in 2016 was no fluke. Now, that five-year, $26 million deal could not look like a bigger bargain for the Indians. Not when Ramirez has carried the Indians' offense on his stocky frame in such profound fashion.

It hasn't gone unnoticed, of course. Ramirez is swimming in adoration from fans, who no longer see him as the fill-in at shortstop or left field or second or third base. Instead, he's the diminutive hitting machine with the signature strut and the ever-airborne helmet.

"I know they love me a lot and I love them, too," Ramirez said. "They treat me a lot better now."

They shouted his name on Sunday night after he turned his usual tricks. There he was again, thriving in the spotlight, delivering in the most crucial moments.

The scene nearly mirrored the one he painted in his mind years ago. He never could have envisioned the T-shirts or the coffee endorsement or the sharp increase in interview requests, but he could picture himself flourishing on the field.

"I always thought about myself playing at a high level and performing well," Ramirez said, "but I always, always dreamed about the most important thing: winning the World Series."