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NEW YORK —  The helicopter doors molded Jose Trevino’s hands.

At Corpus Christi’s Army Depot, where his dad worked as a helicopter electrician for the Air Force, he’d bring his tennis ball and throw it against the sides of the aircraft for hours beneath the Texas sun. He can still hear the ball plunking the metal doors as his shoes skidded across the concrete hangar chasing grounders. He’d shuffle side-to-side as fast as he could while working on transferring the ball as quickly as he could from his hands to the helicopter.

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There were two things Bugé, Jose’s dad, loved most: baseball and family — everything else was secondary. One of the main lessons Bugé imparted to his son was whatever he dreamed for his life, it could become a reality through hard work and discipline. That meant throwing a tennis ball against a helicopter wasn’t just a fun game, it was a chance to better himself and get that much closer to reaching his goals. Jose dreamed of becoming a major leaguer so Bugé did everything he could to pass down to his son a work ethic from working 32 years in the military.

When he wasn’t at work, Bugé was at a ball field. It was the place that made him happiest. He was a volunteer baseball coach for 35 years, an umpire and the dad who drove other kids to practices and games when their parents couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom the possibility of anyone missing a chance to be at the park.

“He cared for other people, man,” Trevino said. “Like he really, really cared for other people. He cared so much about people. If you were struggling, you could call him. If you needed physical help, you could call him. You needed to get back on your feet? He was your man. There are people to this day who tell me my dad helped them out with this or that. I still remember my dad taking us to practice sometimes in our Suburban with seven dudes and my mom. He took care of all the kids.”

Inside Busch Stadium’s visitors’ clubhouse earlier this season, Trevino sat at his locker as tears streamed down his cheeks. Nine years later, it hasn’t gotten any easier; it will never be easy. It pains him to know his dad didn’t get to see his son graduate from helicopter doors to perfectly manicured major-league fields.

“Mostly though, he was my hero,” Trevino said. “He loved to coach. He loved his family. He loved his kids. He was goofy. He was a funny man. So funny. He was hilarious. He would make jokes of anybody and everybody. If you were in the room, he would probably make a joke about you sooner or later. He was a good person. He was a good dude. He was special.”

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Trevino felt so empty after his dad died that quitting the game he loved seemed like the easiest decision he’d ever have to make. The hours he invested into baseball seemed worthless now because his primary source of motivation was gone.

Without Steve Castillo, Trevino’s high school coach, he might have washed out. But the coach reminded his player of how much his father would’ve wanted him to keep playing. There was no better way to honor his dad than by going to the ballpark, even though he had no idea how he could carry on.

Now in his first season with the Yankees, the 29-year-old Trevino has become a beloved player inside and outside of the clubhouse, while emerging as an All-Star catcher for a team that is once again headed back to the postseason.

“I think it’s his workman-like attitude,” Gerrit Cole said about his favorite part of working with Trevino. “He’s from South Texas on the border. I feel like if he wasn’t playing baseball, he’d be running a farm or something and being an actual Texas ranger or a cowboy. He’s someone you just don’t want to mess around with. It’s like his house is tidy, his land is secure. That’s what I think of Trevi.”

When relayed Cole’s response, Trevino couldn’t help but laugh because he didn’t know how the Yankees ace nailed what he would be doing if he wasn’t a professional baseball player. Trevino said he’d be a Texas ranger because it’s a job that requires empathy and devotion to his chosen craft, two characteristics that embody his dad.

But it’s where he is now, as a valuable player on Bugé’s favorite team in pursuit of its first World Series title since 2009, that is the best daily testament to the path his dad laid for him.

Bugé’s spirit lives within Trevino. While his father wasn’t physically present for his major-league debut, Trevino needed a way to feel connected, to feel like he was a part of the best moment of his life. A reminder of that connection is now locked inside a safe in a home in Corpus Christi. It has come to represent a promise between a high school coach who has become so much more to a player who became his first major leaguer.

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It is a promise that will connect father and son for eternity.

When Trevino was a 1-year-old baby, his life was saved by the coach who would one day teach him the game. So goes the family lore. The connection between the Trevinos and Castillo goes back roughly 40 years, which is why they were camping together at Garner State Park in Texas. While no one was watching, Trevino managed to rummage through a bag of white powdered donuts that he put into his mouth. Castillo was napping in a nearby tent when he was suddenly woken up by the screeching sound of Trevino’s mother, Patsy, screaming at the sight of her choking baby.

“I took him away from his mom, turned him over, slapped him on his back,” Castillo recalled, “and a whole bunch of white donuts came out.”

From then on, Castillo remained in Trevino’s life and developed a close friendship with Bugé. Bugé got that nickname growing up because he loved dancing, even though Trevino jokes that his dad, Joe, was an awful dancer. Bugé danced anyway because he loved making people smile, and if he had to bust a move to make someone laugh, that’s what he’d do.

Dancing might not have been Bugé’s expertise but baseball was. Because baseball was Buge’s life, it was Trevino’s life, too. Two years after the traumatic donuts experience, Trevino’s baseball journey with Castillo began.

Castillo ran baseball camps every summer at Moody High School, where he was head coach, in Corpus Christi. The Trevino family knew of Castillo’s coaching pedigree because Buge’s brother was Castillo’s shortstop in the early 1980s. At 3 years old, Trevino was able to hold a bat and throw a baseball. That’s when his parents took him to Castillo’s camp. The camp was supposed to be for ages 7-and-up and Castillo was concerned that this tiny toddler would hurt himself, but his mom and dad insisted. He could throw, catch, hit and, most importantly, pay attention.

“I thought he would be running all over the place, but he was one of the best ones,” Castillo laughs. “The following year, he played T-ball and he brought me a baseball card of himself and I told him he needed to sign it. I have about seven baseball cards of his that he would bring every year. He would bring the cards to me every year at camp without fail.”

Castillo left Moody to start the baseball program at a new Catholic high school, John Paul II. The school was 50 miles from where the Trevinos lived. It didn’t matter. When Castillo began hosting free clinics at the new school, Trevino and his dad were there. Bugé had decided that no one other than Castillo would coach his son.

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It didn’t take long for Trevino to prove how serious he was about someday making the major leagues. Castillo is a proponent of weightlifting, so every morning at 6:30 a.m., before the first school bell rang, the baseball team was required to be in the gym to pump iron. For the Trevinos, who lived 50 miles away, that meant a daily 5 a.m. wake-up call. It was the only way for Trevino to make it to lifting and for Bugé would make it to work on time. Both made that commitment with zero complaints.

Trevino became the Barry Bonds of Texas high school baseball. He was so feared, Castillo said, that he was once intentionally walked nine times in a row. In another instance, the coach said Trevino was walked intentionally with the bases loaded. To combat his slugger getting walked, Castillo tried batting Trevino lead off; he was intentionally walked to start the game.

Trevino ended his high school career as one of the most decorated prep players in Texas history. He left John Paul II holding these records:

• Home runs in a career (53)
• Home runs in a season (25)
• RBI in a career (262)
• RBI in a season (85)
• Base hits in a career (229)
• Doubles in a career (61)
• Runs scored in a career (207)

But scouts focused more on Trevino’s undersized stature rather than his success. He was short, his legs were tiny, he was slow and no one seemed imaginative enough to sign Trevino with a plan to try him at a different position. Though he played shortstop, he didn’t project as one long-term. His odds of sticking at second base also seemed long.

Castillo’s son, David, who had reached Triple-A with the Oakland A’s as a catcher, was the first person in Trevino’s circle to think that his future might be behind the plate. Though Trevino had no formal training as a catcher, it was noticeable that there was something there when he caught a few games in high school.

“Jose would catch a ball and his hand stayed right there or he would move balls to the strike zone,” Steve Castillo said. “He looked natural.”

Trevino’s hands, the ones molded on those helicopter doors, were strong. Perhaps they could one day be used to frame 100 mph fastballs.

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In 2012, with scouts uninterested in giving him a shot, Trevino signed as an infielder with Oral Roberts, a private evangelical school in Tulsa, Okla. As a freshman, he started at third base and led the team in average (.317), hits (78), RBIs (57), doubles (18) and triples (three). That production offered a glimpse of the promise Trevino would show for the rest of his collegiate career.

It also came during the most difficult year of his life — one that nearly derailed everything.

The day before Trevino’s first game at Oral Roberts, on the road at Baylor in Waco, Texas — Bugé was at John Paul II’s scrimmage watching baseball, as he always would.

Though he lived almost an hour away from the school, he was committed to helping the baseball program. When Castillo needed to build new fences and dugouts, Bugé was there to help. When the school’s summer team needed a coach, Bugé stepped in. It was his way of repaying Castillo for all the baseball wisdom he passed down to his son.

After the scrimmage, Bugé spoke with Castillo. He was overjoyed that Jose was starting as a freshman, and he would soon begin his five-hour drive to Waco because there was no way he was missing his son’s first college game. He made sure to thank Castillo for everything he’d done. It would be their final conversation,

“The next phone call I get,” Castillo said, “he’s in the hospital.”

Bugé made it to his son’s first college game. But while waiting for a storm to pass during the second game, he suffered a heart attack in the parking lot. He fell into a coma.

“He was in the hospital for a couple of weeks and then they brought him to Corpus (Christi),” Castillo. “When I went to visit him, I would put my hand on his foot and push it to see if he would react because he was in a coma. He would move when I told him about Jose.”

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Though there had been initial optimism that Bugé would walk out of the hospital, hope dwindled over time. For nearly two years he remained in a coma. On Oct. 20, 2013, Joe “Bugé” Trevino died. He was 60.

The first few weeks after Bugé suffered his heart attack were the worst for Trevino. Every day, he’d come up with a plan to leave school. Maybe he would purposely fail his classes so he could get expelled. Or maybe he would pack his belongings and drive home without telling his coaches or teammates that he was leaving and never coming back. He wanted to be anywhere but Oral Roberts because it was associated with the worst pain he’d ever experienced.

It wasn’t until he broke down to his mom and told her how he wanted to give up that he found a new perspective.

“It took a conversation with my mom to be like, don’t do this,” Trevino said. “Don’t do what you’re about to do. She told me I needed to stay because I had worked so hard my entire life and everything I ever wanted was right in front of me and you just want to quit? She told me that the reason I would be quitting was a good reason and they wouldn’t hold it against me if that’s what I did want to (do), but the reason I wanted to quit would be the same reason I would have to keep going in my life. That changed my mind.”

After talking with his mom, Jose heard his dad’s voice in his head too. He thought back to when he wanted to quit his middle school cross country team. He’d joined only because running cross country exempted football players from conditioning tests. But he grew tired of the constant running and told his dad that he was going to quit. Bugé didn’t let that fly.

“All of these things were going through my head and then I heard my dad say, ‘Whenever we start something, we do not quit, we finish it,’” Trevino said. “‘You committed to this and you’re not quitting, I’m sorry.’”

Through all the noise and all the emotions, it was his father’s voice that ultimately kept Trevino on course.

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“I knew baseball was what I wanted to do with my life right then and there,” he said. “When he died, the only thought I had was, ‘OK. You’re going to be a big leaguer. Let’s go.’”

Trevino did not give up baseball. Instead, while turning himself into a player that the scouts could no longer dismiss, he emerged as a team leader.

“I came in and he made me feel right at home,” said Blue Jays closer Jordan Romano, who played a season with Trevino at Oral Roberts after transferring from junior college. “I always thought he was going to be a good player and I think everyone on our team thought it, too.”

After choosing to stay at Oral Roberts, Trevino found even more motivation to reach the major leagues. Castillo had coached 952 games in his career with 717 wins. He watched 10 of his players get drafted and signed, including his own son, who was selected in the seventh round by Oakland in 2003. None of them had made it to The Show. Trevino resolved to be the first.

In 2014, Trevino’s home state Texas Rangers chose him in the sixth round. He was sent to instructional league where he was told that he would eventually transition to catcher. By his first spring training, he was already making an impression.

“We would always do drills in spring training with around 30 catchers, whether it was a throwing competition, a blocking competition, a pop-up competition,” said Chris Briones, who was the Rangers’ catching coordinator at the time. “Out of 30 guys we had in camp, we knew it was always going to get down to two people: Jose versus somebody else. Jose would do whatever he had to do to win.”

The Rangers immediately saw how special his glove was; the biggest question mark in predicting a future in the majors was whether he would hit. The success he had in high school as such a dominant hitter was because he barreled almost anything he was thrown. When he got to the minors, the knock on Trevino was his undisciplined approach at the plate. He would swing at almost anything close to the zone. But what brought Trevino time to figure it out offensively was his defense.

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“It always goes back to Yadier Molina for me,” said Bobby Wilson, the Rangers’ current catching coordinator. “They would tell Yadi that he would play every day and he would figure it out. Yadi was so good defensively that he could figure it out offensively. That’s the approach I take with our catchers and the one I took with Trevi and the catchers we have here now.”

In 2016, Rawlings awarded Trevino the Gold Glove as the top defensive catcher across all of minor league baseball. In 2017, he repeated the feat. All of it led up to the moment in 2018 that Trevino had worked for years to reach.

When Bugé died, Castillo became Trevino’s second dad, a title he still holds dearly to this day. So when Trevino earned his first big league call-up, he knew who to call and what message to relay.

“Guess what, coach? You got your first Major Leaguer.”

“I got teary immediately not because of that but because he wanted to show his dad that their dream had come true,” Castillo said. “He didn’t get a chance to do that.”

The Rangers were enamored with Trevino’s footwork, arm action and leadership ability. It was the latter characteristic which made them believe that if Trevino bought 100 percent into being behind the plate, he had a chance to make it. Years later, it’s clear that they got that buy-in. Trevino is now one of the best defensive catchers in baseball, known for being one of the game’s best pitch framers.

“Everyone likes a good count to pitch in,” Trevino said. “That’s always my goal. I want these guys to have better counts. That’s why I do it. The numbers are what they are, but if I can get my pitchers in a better count to strike someone out or make weak contact, that’s why I do it. I love that.”

In 2021, Trevino ranked fourth in pitch framing; Jonah Heim, the Rangers’ current starting catcher, ranked second. But last offseason, the Rangers found themselves with a logjam at catcher. They had acquired Mitch Garver, expecting him to take over as the starter, which left Trevino and Heim to compete for a spot as the backup. During camp, when Trevino looked like he was going to lose out to Heim, it became clear that the next step would be a trade.

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The Yankees emerged as suitors. New York’s catching situation was in flux after trading Gary Sanchez to Minnesota and it seemed like Trevino could have a shot to earn playing time. Also, Trevino still had a minor-league option, an attractive quality because teams value roster flexibility. Rather than stash Trevino in the minors, the Rangers seized on a chance to add a pair of arms, acquiring righty Albert Abreu and lefty Robby Ahlstrom from the Yankees in exchange for Trevino.

“To be in that room and to get that message that we were trading him — I cried because it hurt me that much,” said Wilson, who called the trade one of the toughest experiences of his young coaching career. “The person I saw every day, the work ethic I saw every day, I know Jose Trevino is a championship player. I’ve seen it.”

Soon, the Yankees would see it too.

Jose Trevino was pointing up and shouting "papi" after his walk-off hit

Today was his father's birthday. His father passed away in 2014 pic.twitter.com/btLE3N4uX1

— Talkin' Yanks (@TalkinYanks) May 25, 2022

When Trevino learned he was getting traded to the Yankees, he couldn’t help but smile. He grew up a Yankees fan because Bugé loved the team too. Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio were his favorite players. And when Trevino was a kid, Bugé always made him watch Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada. Jeter was Trevino’s favorite. (He hoped to name his newborn son after the Hall of Fame shortstop though his fianceé, Marla, wouldn’t go for it.)

Trevino and his dad would envision walk-off hits in the backyard of their Texas home. When Bugé pitched to his son, it was Trevino’s name that the Yankee Stadium crowd chanted in place of Jeter’s. In the big leagues, Trevino brought those fantasies to real life. In his third career game, he delivered a walk-off win for the Rangers on Father’s Day. This season with the Yankees, Trevino delivered a walk-off on Bugé’s birthday, May 24. As the winning run scored, Trevino pointed to the sky and yelled, “Papi! Papi! Papi!”

Father and son also talked about what it would be like to win championships for the Yankees. In their minds, there was no dream that was unreachable.

Now, that dream has never been closer to reality.

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The Yankees are headed to the postseason and Trevino will play a role. He has delivered the kind of production that the Yankees couldn’t have envisioned.

Trevino’s proficiency as a pitch framer has not been a surprise. This year, he has saved 15 runs with his pitch framing, per Statcast (through Sept. 30), the best mark in the league by three runs. He also has the highest strike rate in baseball at 53.8 percent. However, Trevino’s bat became a nice bonus for the Yankees in the first half, when he slugged seven homers with an OPS of .714. That offense is part of the reason that Trevino wound up on the American League All-Star team for the first time in his career.

“As I said leading into the All-Star game, he should’ve been an All-Star based on his offense and that’s secondary to what he brings to the team defensively,” manager Aaron Boone said. “I don’t think I could’ve anticipated this, the amount of big hits he has, hitting for power and being a presence down at the bottom of our lineup. We feel good whenever he comes to the plate in a big spot.”

When Trevino was named an All-Star, one of the first people he reached out to was Wilson. He sent a thank you note for believing in him, for pushing him, for elevating him. Wilson texted back, “You are a Major League All-Star. You deserve everything you got.”

“I honestly love Jose,” said Wilson, who choked up when he discussed the bond he’s built with Trevino. “He’s been a blessing to my life.”

Indeed, Trevino hasn’t forgotten those who have helped him along the way. Briones is currently an assistant for the Beloit Sky Carp, an A-ball affiliate for the Marlins. Several times throughout the season, Trevino has FaceTimed Briones’ catchers to offer advice and feedback after watching film of each player. The first time Trevino talked with them, he spent 30 minutes breaking down their technique. He also offered Briones’ catchers the opportunity to work out with him this offseason.

“The fact that he wants to help someone who is potentially coming to try to get his job one day is unique,” Briones said. “But he’s also the kind of guy who would be like, ‘Try to come take my job.’”

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Trevino told himself when he made his major-league debut that he would never let a day go by where he would let anyone outwork him. Doing so would mean letting the work he had done with his father and coach go to waste. With the Yankees, he has honored that legacy.

“To say he was going to become the best catcher in the league for the best team in the league is pretty hard to do though, right?” said Romano, Trevino’s college teammate. “I always knew he was going to be a good player. Did I think he was going to be an All-Star on the best team in the league? I knew he could do it, but it’s pretty rare. He’s surpassed everyone’s expectations with what he’s doing now.”

Shortly after he was drafted, Trevino and Castillo made a promise to one another. When Trevino registered his first big-league hit, Castillo would get the baseball. Four years ago, it happened, with the exchange sealed with a hug between player and coach. It was an emotional moment for Trevino, who knew how much his dad would’ve loved to display that ball proudly and show it off to anyone who entered his home.

But for Castillo, his custody of the baseball is temporary. When Castillo dies, his sons have been instructed to retrieve the baseball from the safe inside his home and place it inside his coffin. This way, Castillo can bring the ball to Bugé, where it belongs.

Castillo saw how deeply affected Trevino was by Bugé’s death. He would sometimes call his coach just to cry. Castillo would frequently remind Trevino that he would always remain by his side, no matter if he was in trouble at 4 a.m. He was always a phone call away. The day Bugé died, Castillo told Trevino that he needed to continue playing baseball because that’s what his dad would’ve wanted, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment.

“A lot of people would’ve just said, ‘To hell with this,”‘ Castillo said through tears. “He didn’t. I always told him, ‘Keep going. Do this for your dad. Do this for your dad. Do this for your dad.'”

Trevino imagines what his dad would think, watching his son play for his favorite team. He wonders what his father would make of the hands formed from the helicopters at the Army Depot, the hands that would turn him into a major leaguer.

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“I think about this every day,” Trevino sobbed. “Maybe he’s proud of me. I know he’s proud of me. Baseball was our life. I think about the tournaments as a kid. I think about the practices. He made practice fun for me, for my friends. I think he would be proud if he could see all of this. I know he is.”

(Top photo of Jose Trevino celebrating a walk-off hit on May 24, his father’s birthday: Brad Penner / USA Today)

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