Bel Air, North Harford softball remember longtime coach Guy Santoro, who died at 52: ‘He could have made a fruit fly feel seen’
Bel Air and North Harford's softball teams, along with the Forest Hill Heat program, honored longtime coach Guy Santoro before Tuesday's game.
Take the stroll down the grass back to North Harford’s softball field behind its school building where scarlet red overpowered both the Hawks’ green and yellow, and visiting Bel Air blue. A closer inspection revealed both teams sporting purple pins tied to their caps and jerseys.
In color and in spirit, this was an afternoon for coalescence.
Tuesday’s “Fill the Field” game between the Bel Air and North Harford softball teams, while still a seven-inning affair decided 6-3 in Bel Air’s favor, was more a celebration of longtime Forest Hill Heat coach Anthony “Guy” Santoro’s life and legacy –– the reason so many of the girls proudly don hats and jerseys on that field in the first place.
Santoro was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in late November. He died shortly after on Dec. 10 at age 52. During his viewing, his wife Holly had to be sent to the hospital for an aneurysm, requiring emergency brain surgery that evening. She’s now home, doing better, but the tragedy ushered in an outpouring of support for the Santoro family, including daughters Carmen and Alyssa, who both played for North Harford.
A GoFundMe flooded with over $50,000 worth of donations within its first few days. It’s now over $82,000.
The sea of red around the field bonded two school communities with deep ties to the Heat. And purple is the representative color for pancreatic cancer, the third leading cause of cancer-related death in the United States.
A pregame eulogy began with the distribution of informational packets about pancreatic cancer and Santoro’s joy-filled life, designed by North Harford outfielder and captain Mackenzie Dunaway. “He was a bright, shining light,” she wrote, “the personification of fun, and someone who made this world so much better.
“It’s amazing to see everyone that he touched in the same room,” said Bel Air catcher and captain Amelia Mason about Santoro’s funeral service when everyone showed up in red Heat gear. The same sentiment applied to his memorial game.
Dunaway and Mason took the lead in presenting the Santoro family with flowers.
Hawks assistant coach Christine Mullin then shared the origin story of the event: spawned from conversations with area umpires. “That truly says something about a coach,” Mullin said, “when an umpire of all people wants to honor you.”
The morning of the originally scheduled game in early April (which rescheduled because of rain), a few of Santoro’s players past and present gathered around a kitchen table as if it were a campfire, exchanging stories and sharing laughs. One after another, they eulogized the man who, in many ways, defined their softball lives. The man who, a few admitted, was the main reason they stuck with the sport.
Riley Mason took a moment to gather the haze of emotions recounting her own experience with Santoro. He taught her how to love herself, she beamed. How to treat other young women; how to go to bat for your friends. The affable Santoro set the example, himself always wearing a smile. Sometimes complemented by proud tears.
“I was really embarrassing when I was younger,” Mason said, met by a chorus of laughs around the table. She used to build sandcastles in the outfield. She dumped sand on her head. The cliche novice who picked clovers in the outfield? That was her.
“He was always cheering for me,” Mason said. “Like, ‘Get that dirt, girl!’ He was really supportive of every kid no matter what.”
Mason’s sister Josie’s best Santoro memories are of opening day for their Forest Hill rec team. It’s tradition to wear some sort of theme. Santoro never haphazardly met the standards –– he always went above and beyond.
Josie’s favorite was the Dublin Darlings, when all the coaches wore kilts and Santoro got a professional bagpiper to play at the field. Other opening day shenanigans for their teams included ‘Home Run DMC,’ ‘Base Invaders,’ ‘The Grand Slamericans,’ ‘Deadliest Catchers’ and ‘Bubblegum Ballers.’
Bel Air assistant coach Greg Wissert, who spoke after Mullin on Tuesday, denoted Santoro “the only person on the planet that could convince you to dress up as Uncle Sam or a leprechaun … or a pineapple under the sea.”
“The thing I learned most is just to love hard and love strong,” Josie said. “Never let anyone feel unseen. I think that was what he did the best. He could have made a fruit fly feel seen. He really just knew how to make everyone feel special and loved.”
Alexa Bowden shared that sentiment. She was the youngest player on her Heat team, playing up with her older sister, Claire.
“He made me a part of the team, even though I technically wasn’t on the team,” Alexa said. “I still practiced with them. He treated me equally compared to all the other players.
Santoro was Claire’s first travel coach when she started playing at 9 years old. Claire was petrified. With a coach like Santoro, that didn’t last long. He made her feel welcome. Like the girls were one big friend group, fortunate to lean on one another through their kind-hearted leader.
Kenzie Ellinghaus was blunt. Back then, softball wasn’t her forte. “One year, I would get hit with the ball every time I went up to bat,” she said. Ellinghaus blossomed from the shy one of the group to, because of Santoro, pulled out of her comfort zone forming an unbreakable relationship with each of her teammates; many of whom played together from 4 years old up through early high school.
“So many people in the community love Coach Guy,” Ellinghaus said. “I just feel like being kind to everybody is better because of him.”
Reagan Kaplan didn’t hesitate to double down that Santoro taught her simply to love herself. Her smile widened with a simple assertion: “He made everyone feel like they were on top of the world.”
In Kaplan’s final Forest Hill softball game she belted a triple into the woods. Her lasting memory was pulling up at third base met by Santoro, airborne with excitement, telling her how proud he was and how excited he was for her.
“You could have 500 girls sitting here telling the exact same stories,” Melissa Mason chimed in, mom to Amelia, Riley and Josie. “Because every single one of them got that from Guy.”
That was the kind of supporting figure he was.
When these girls were all 4 years old at the end of the season receiving small plastic trophies, Santoro’s mushiness took center stage. This team could barely get through a game with that age group; they played for snacks. But Santoro still sobbed, he was so proud.
If he were there for Tuesday’s memorial game to see the impact he had on so many young softball players — them sharing hugs and uplifting one another — he’d probably still be sobbing. Particularly when current players and alumni encircled the pitcher’s mound for a shared Heat cheer.
Mullin closed citing a famous quote from legendary ESPN anchor Stuart Scott: “When you die, that does not mean you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live.”
“Clearly, Guy was a winner,” Mullin said, “apparent by the turnout here today.”