The GCL season came and went and Travis never got the call to the next level. He finished the year slashing .381/.440/.457 with the one homer and five steals.
His exit meeting didn't leave much to evaluate. They said that they thought he played well and that he would need to stay in shape over the offseason and come into camp ready to go. Regardless if they told him that or not, Travis would be ready.
His plan was to go back to Houston and workout and hit as often as possible. Making the minimal wages that minor leaguers make, he would give lessons to high schoolers and younger kids to help make ends meet. $60 for an hour and $30 for a half hour. It wasn't much, but it helped. He'd also live with Mom and Dad. Saving on rent never hurt either, especially considering that there would probably be seven or eight dudes crammed into a three bedroom apartment once the season rolled back around. It was the ugly reality of minor league ball, a reality that was just really starting to enter the public eye.
It was an ugly reality that Travis was willing to put up with. In a weird way, he liked it. Yeah, they really had to grind, but he loved being with his teammates and he loved the camaraderie. They all respected the work that one another put in, and it was a grind everyone was in together.
