The suddenness was shocking.

Liam Scholl should have been with his Brunswick High baseball teammates at a team dinner on April 17, laughing, joking and getting excited about the season opener that was just five days away.

But when a teammate called to ask when he was coming to the restaurant, Liam said his father was on the floor and not breathing. Michael Scholl, the generous man known for cheering on every Brunswick player, died in the family’s Brunswick home.

Conor Fell had always been a loving and protective big brother to his younger sister, Erin. This year, they’d grown even closer, sharing drives to York High where Conor was a senior and Erin a freshman.

They played together on York’s unified basketball team. Erin was the team’s defensive demon and unofficial halftime dance leader. Conor was one of the partners — teammates who assist athletes with disabilities during play. On Sunday, March 30, Erin, age 15, didn’t wake up. She had died in her sleep, all signs pointing to an epileptic seizure.

“It was hard. It just felt so quiet in the house. Lonely,” Conor Fell said. “Especially going back to school. It just felt weird to be there without her. And not driving her to school, or seeing her in the hallways.”

Both Scholl, Brunswick’s ace pitcher, and Fell, the Wildcats’ starting third baseman, have found solace on the baseball diamond. There, they can play and react to the game, surrounded by teammates, friends and trusted coaches. It’s a safe space to talk about how they’re feeling. More often, they just welcome the opportunity to do something other than think about what they’ve lost.

When Scholl came to baseball practice the day after his father died, “nobody really said anything to me but I knew that everybody was there for me,” he said. “I think they know that it’s tough for me and this is a place where I can kind of … be distracted and kind of get away from it.”

Fell felt comfortable returning to school after he was allowed to join his teammates for baseball practice. Weeks into the season, he said he still felt more at ease playing his sport.

“At school, it’s just the feeling of everyone looking at you, being under a spotlight,” Fell said. “But with baseball, I don’t feel that way. We’re all just friends. I just know they’re there for me. Even if they don’t say it, I know they are.”

Conor Fell warms up with his York High baseball teammates before a May 17 game against Greely. The Wildcats are wearing pink warmup jerseys in memory of Fell’s younger sister Erin, who died in March. Brianna Soukup/Press Herald

It makes sense that sports can help a teenager cope after the death of a parent or sibling, said Sara Asch, the director of outreach and education at the Center for Grieving Children in Portland. Being part of a team helps athletes by providing a distraction as well as social interaction within a supportive community.

“I think it’s that comradeship. Knowing their teammates. And being in an environment where there is a community that performs in routines and safety and acceptance,” Asch said. “And I think teammates are also used to supporting someone when they’re down. They’ve been there when someone has had a terrible inning of pitching. They’re used to that. It doesn’t come across as false.”

LOSS AFFECTS THE WHOLE TEAM

In Brunswick, many of Liam Scholl’s teammates were close with his father.

“We’ve all just been trying to support Liam as best as we can, but more so for our sake than his. Because we all need it, too,” said Brunswick outfielder Cam Beal, one of six tight-knit seniors on the team. “I know it helps out Liam to have us around, but it’s not just for him.”

In York, Conor Fell’s teammates often ate lunch with Erin Fell, a vibrant personality who loved giving hugs and butterflies. She looked at the world from a vantage point of “pure joy and happiness,” said Conor and Erin’s father, Michael Fell. Erin had what her parents termed “broad special needs.”

The baseball team, as well as teachers and other students, wear pink T-shirts with “Erin” and her unified No. 8 on the back. Across the front is “Wildcats” with butterflies dotting the letter “i.”

“They would take time out of their day and play with her. So these were kids who spent a lot of time with her,” Michael Fell said. “It was hard for them. They had to go through their own grieving.”

Conor Fell, center, huddles up with his York High baseball teammates before a May 17 game against Greely at York High. Brianna Soukup/Press Herald

Last winter, Windham High’s boys basketball players openly spoke about how they were inspired by Pat Moody and wanted to honor his life after he died of cancer on Nov. 10, 2024. Preseason practice started eight days later. His son, A.J. Moody, a starting junior guard, said playing the sport “is kind of a release.” He also knew it helped being with teammates, because they, too, were hurting.

While there were hard days, it was at a basketball practice that he could still hear his father’s voice, Moody said.

“Just stepping on a basketball court, I still hear it. Just feeling that presence. My whole team does,” he said. “They’re all here for me, they all love me, they all loved my dad.”

SUDDEN OR SLOW, DEATH TAKES A TOLL

Tanner Anctil knew his dad Scott Anctil was dying. It had been three years of failing health since Scott, a well-known ice hockey official and youth coach in the Lewiston area, had been diagnosed with a rare disease called frontotemporal dementia.

“That last year, it went downhill pretty quick. He wasn’t able to talk. Couldn’t walk on his own,” Tanner, now 19, recalled.

When Scott died in February 2021, Tanner was completing his sophomore hockey season at Lewiston High. This was the COVID-19-disrupted season without any playoffs and a limited number of games. One contest that would be special was the annual rivalry game with Edward Little of Auburn.

Scott died the night before.

“So that next morning, my mom, my sister and my grampy — my dad’s dad — we had a conversation and felt he would have wanted me to play, and I was going to hockey to get my mind free,” Tanner said.

Looking back, Tanner is “100%” positive it helped him play in that game and to have the support of his teammates, particularly twin brothers Cooper and Daxton St. Hilaire.

“The whole team came and surprised me at the house. Everyone gave me a hug and they picked me up and we went to the game together. That was something really special for me,” Tanner said.

Being with teammates in a difficult time was simply easier. Words didn’t need to be shared. “Everyone knew what was going on,” he said.

TREASURED NORMALCY

Just feeling normal. Even if for a couple of hours.

Fell and Scholl said the in-season routine of practices, games, bus trips and team dinners provides relief.

“Being around the baseball team, especially because we’re all friends — we’re all very tight — it felt like some sort of normality in my life, which was nice,” said Fell, who also played ice hockey. “I think it would be a lot harder if I didn’t have any of my sports going on right now. It’s definitely good to get out of the house. Get my mind off stuff.”

Brunswick baseball coach Matt Aceto said he made sure to let Scholl and his teammates know that baseball was secondary. It was OK, he said, for the players to take some time off, but he quickly discovered they wanted to be together on a baseball diamond.

Brunswick pitcher Liam Scholl credited his teammates and coaches for helping him grieve the loss of his father this spring. Russ Dillingham/Sun Journal

Scholl, who intends to play baseball next year at Salve Regina University in Newport, Rhode Island, has been remarkably effective as a pitcher (6-0 with 52 strikeouts through 35 1/3 innings as of May 21) and hitter.

“I think he is so uber-locked in and focused on what he has to do and what he wants to do, that it’s an escape,” Aceto said. “It’s a break for him. It allows him to be a 17-year-old kid who’s not dealing with the loss of his father and the disruption of his family.

“It allows him to play a game with a ball, a stick, a piece of leather and some dirt, and he’s embracing it. He’s embracing having fun, which I know at times is a hard thing to say, but you still deserve to have fun. You still deserve to smile and laugh, even in the face of such a loss. I mean, in some ways it’s the best way to get through it.”

FOR GRIEF SUPPORT

If you are looking for support and to be in a community that understands what it’s like to grieve, the Center for Grieving Children is located in Portland and Sanford. Call 775-5216 or send an email via their website cgcmaine.org/services.

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