After suffering tragic death, former Star-Telegram sportswriter leaves gifts
Carlos Mendez was the person who would say little, which in a crowded conversation made his humor stop everyone.
When it came to the joys of parenting young teenage boys, he’d only shake his head and say, “It’s the smells.” Or on the subject of navigating his relationship with his spouse, he said, “It’s the ability to make up her mind.”
Both comments were said with a straight dead pan delivery, and maybe the slightest of smirks. Maybe.
Mendez was a former longtime sportswriter of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, who in his career with the company covered high schools, the Dallas Cowboys, Texas Rangers, TCU and NASCAR.
This was a sweet, decent and funny man who didn’t feel the need to smack you over the head with his humor. Or anything else that he did. He was thoroughly unimpressed with status, but rather he appreciated, and embodied, decency.
Tragically, this man is gone. On Oct. 27, Mendez went for a run in the morning near his home in Arlington and was hit by an SUV. He died on Nov. 7. The Arlington police report said this was just as it sounds: a horrible accident.
His was a life well lived that ended way too damn soon.
Whatever Carlos did professionally he easily eclipsed by what he did personally. Carlos was fiercely dedicated to his wife, their children, and his loved ones. Everything else admirably came behind those commitments. He knew what mattered.
Mendez, 58, is survived by his wife, Cindy, and their daughter, Crystal, and sons, Samuel and Luke.
Consistent with the man’s character, Mendez was an organ donor. According to friends, his generosity immediately helped save six lives. His wife wrote on her Facebook account he “will save up to 70 more through tissue donation. He died a hero.”
Carlos was an old-school throwback not to 1955 but rather 1885. Carlos could have won the Nobel Prize, and there’s a great chance he would have told no one. In the era of the look-at-me social media, Carlos was the “Don’t look at me. Look at my friend, and what they just did.”
It’s what made him so good at telling high school sports stories.
“Carlos covered the Cowboys with Clarence Hill and me for several years. During football season, we were together as much as we were with our families, so the three of us became almost like a family of our own,” said former Star-Telegram NFL reporter Charean Williams, who now writes for ProFootballTalk.com. Hill now works for All City DLLS.
“Carlos was quiet, which is unusual for a sportswriter, with a dry sense of humor and always with a smile on his face. I don’t know if I ever saw him in a bad mood. Just a joy to be around, a shining light for everyone he came in contact with. He was loved by and will be missed by so many.”
Born and raised in San Angelo, Carlos graduated from Angelo State University.
Like so many who start in sports journalism in high school, he had found the career he wanted. Money be damned.
He started his career out of college with the San Angelo Standard-Times, where he worked with current Associated Press reporter Schuyler Dixon.
At San Angelo, Carlos was named one of Top 10 Sports Feature Writers in the United States. He then moved to San Antonio where he worked as a copy editor for the San Antonio Express-News.
After a year in San Antonio, his former boss there, the late Celeste Williams, hired him as a sports reporter at the Star-Telegram where he worked for nearly the next 20 years. He spent the last seven years working as a researcher and writer for Panini America.
He was a solid, reliable professional who was an outstanding person.
He was a great dad and family man who made the people he loved and cared about his priority. A traveler, he took his sons on a mission trips, and routinely volunteered to chaperone youth group excursions.
He and his spouse loved hosting youth group meetings in their home. Carlos led a book club, where he made it his habit to lead conversations about life.
Later in life, Carlos became dedicated to taking care of his health, and took up running. He introduced friends to the sport, and he completed a variety of races, from 5Ks, 10Ks, and one half-marathon.
The funny part about Carlos is unless someone told you about any of it, or you saw it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t know a word of it.
The people close to him — wife, kids, family, friends — they would have known. To Carlos, they were the ones who mattered, because he was always true to his priorities.
This story was originally published November 12, 2025 at 5:00 AM.
