November 6, 2026

Recently I traveled to Cozumel for three days of diving with Ascuba Ventures, our local dive shop in Corpus Christi. I packed several shirts with the Hooks logo on them. After a couple of days of seeing my Hooks gear, someone asked, “Do you work for the Hooks?”

That question opened up a conversation at the table about the Hooks, my being a season-ticket holder, and my writing about the 2026 baseball season. I enthused with surprising energy about the joy of baseball in general and the Corpus Christi Hooks in particular.

That moment brought home to me how much I enjoyed the season despite the inglorious ending.

I started writing about the season with the belief that the Hooks would hold up the Texas League Championship trophy. That belief caused me to watch games with way more time invested than in previous years. Every series, whether won or lost, I spent time reflecting on what the players did well and what they needed to do to improve enough to become champions.

Usually, those players who stood out did so based on the strengths they had and the flaws they needed to correct. The hitter who needed to improve his defense. The fielder who needed to improve his offense. Where could players improve individually? How could the team get better throughout the lineup?

And players did improve, but, in the end, the Hooks failed to make the playoffs. The hope of winning the Texas League championship died on Saturday night, August 29, in Amarillo. The Hooks held a 7-3 lead in the 9^th inning and lost 9-8 in the 10^th. Amarillo would ultimately be the team to power its way to the league championship instead of the Hooks.

From that loss on, I had less reason to keep writing and keep showing up at games. They weren’t going to win anything, so why bother? That happens in sports. People stop showing up when nothing seems to be on the line for their team. The whole effort seemed to be one big waste of time.

Does a trophy validate a team or a season and its lack of one devalue the effort and those involved? The eventual moment when a team wins its first World Series or holds up its first Lombardi trophy is a highlight in a fan’s life. I’ve experienced that feeling of joyous relief as a long-suffering fan of a team. It is a splendid moment.

I have friends from Wisconsin who experienced that when the Milwaukee Brewers won their first World Series championship in October. One friend can finally put on her Brewer jersey in celebration. She refused to wear it for fear of jinxing her team.

Here’s the thing, though. I’ve been in the stadium during a World Series game. It was loud. It was raucous. It was electric. But I realized in that moment it was also just another game.

So why did that conversation in Cozumel suddenly bring a burst of pure joy in recalling this past season?

I can’t get past the people involved who made the summer of 2026 a genuine pleasure to experience firsthand.

Let me start with the 2026 end of season accolades.

Jason Schiavone won the Astros’ Minor League Player of the Year. Jason hit 32 homeruns and stole 32 bases over three levels of Minor League Baseball in 2026. He and Willie Royster, Charlotte O’s in 1981, are the only two catchers in minor league history to join the 30-30 club. No catcher has done it in the Majors. Perhaps Jason will be the first.

I recognized he was something special from his first time behind the plate at Whataburger Field. In the first inning he threw a runner out at 2^nd. In the second inning he threw a runner out at 2^nd. His ability to throw out baserunners amazed me and probably surprised the base stealers as well.

I had no idea who Jason was when he arrived in Corpus Christi, but I sure did by the time the Astros promoted him to Triple-A Sugar Land in early September.

The Astros list of their MiLB Players of the Year was full of players who had played a substantial part of the 2026 season in Corpus Christi, with one exception. As previously mentioned, Jason was the Minor League Player of the Year. Bryce Mayer was named the Minor League Pitcher of the Year. Max Holy was named Defender of the Year. The Astros Standard Award went to Yamal Encarnacion. Anthony Huezo, who played only one series in a Hooks’ uniform, was named Baserunner of the Year.

With the exception of Anthony Huezo, I saw the award winners play in many games and had no reservations in supporting that list wholeheartedly. Bryce Mayer pitched so well toward the end of the season, giving up a single run in six starts, that his promotion to Triple-A was well earned but left a hole in our starting rotation that never was filled.

Max Holy proved solid as the Corpus Christi shortstop game in and game out. He dazzled with his glove and arm strength on the field. When he started hitting towering homeruns at the end of the season, he opened eyes to his offensive possibilities as well. He extended at bats and got on base often enough to warrant a promotion, but I’m glad he ended his season with the Hooks.

Yamal Encarnacion was the fire starter for the team. He’s the only guy I’ve seen steal home, and he did it twice in one series. He tied for the Texas League stolen base lead with 48 despite playing his last game on August 7. He was out for the remainder of the season, and the fire in the heart of the team seemed to smolder from that point on. I think the most common lament among the texting brain trust throughout August was, “Boy, we sure do miss Yamal.”

I made new friends and strengthened old friendships. Some of those played the game like Alejandro Torres, Joseph Sullivan Jr., Amilcar Chirinos, Chase Call, Trevor Austin, and more. Others watched them play—fans, coaches, and family members.

Meeting Jim Cologna in Springfield led to nightly texting debates as he, my wife Ellen, and I celebrated and commiserated all season long. That in itself was worth the price of admission.

I also enjoyed where I went to watch baseball in 2026. Whataburger Field is my baseball home, but San Antonio, Springfield, Wichita and Midland all added to the blessings of being a baseball fan. Wichita was the first and only time I’ve watched an entire away series, and it marked my first time to stay in the same hotel with the team. Ellen made those trips with me, which was perhaps the greatest gift of all.

I thought for a time that a season without a championship trophy made the effort to write about the team practically worthless, but I was wrong. That random conversation at a dinner table in Cozumel exposed the truth of how I felt. I grieved the losses, celebrated the wins, marveled at great plays, and, in the end, loved the whole experience.

Thank you for joining me on this writing journey. I look forward to more adventures together. May God bless!