Lance Berkman is not a born leader, just like he's not a born baseball player. In the same way he doesn't take over a game with his physical abilities, he doesn't take over a locker room with his vocal chords. When he's at the plate, he picks his spots. When he's in the locker room, he does the same thing.

Toward the end of 2001, in which Berkman was an All-Star in his first year as an everyday player, we sat down at a Tony Roma's in San Francisco for an interview. After asking him about his leadership skills, the conversation started moving to moral character -- what he stood for, what he detested. He'd learned a lot about himself that year. He'd go out, try and bond with the boys, and end up disgusted. "Some guys' moral character isn't worth a dang," he said, not referring to any Astros in particular but instead to an underground culture in the majors.

When he returned to the Astros this spring, Berkman, a devout Christian, decided to try and help. Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell are still the leaders of the team, but Berkman wanted to make his mark as well, even if it was a small one. He started have twice-monthly dinners on the road, an open invitation for teammates. If he sees a player marred in a slump either at the plate or on the street, he invites him.

Berkman will talk about the role God plays in his life, not in an overbearing way but in a it-helped-me, it-can-help-you way. "When you take a stand for high morals, not everyone is going to agree," he says. "That's okay. I just hope they respect it."

The message gets out. I went fishing in the locker room for players who had been helped by Berkman, and I found several. Of course, not one would reveal how Berkman's meetings had helped -- "Much too personal," they'd say -- but people had. One teammate even mentioned that if he ever did something that Berkman might frown upon, he wouldn't want him to ever find out. Knowing what Berkman stands for, he'd be too ashamed to face him. He's the type of guy nobody wants to let down.

When I relayed that message to Berkman, something almost as amazing as his 19 homers happened: He was speechless. "Wow," he said, finally. "I guess … huh. That's really special. That means something to me. A lot. You want to be that guy for your teammates."

Berkman already is.

E-mail Seth Wickersham at seth.wickersham@espnmag.com.