Officials at Beaver Meadow Golf Course wisely transformed their driving range into a parking lot Saturday, creating 300 spots.

The life of Ryan McGonigle – who died from a heart attack on July 24 at age 47 – was to be celebrated, and insiders knew that extra space would be needed to accommodate the crowd.

They knew the size of Ryan’s universe, his giant family, his giant pool of friends, his giant stable of baseball players whom he coached through their teens.

In this case, first cousin Kirk McGonigle and Ryan’s brother, Scott McGonigle, said the same thing, at different times and in different places.

“This is hard to put into words, but you’ll see what he meant to people from the amount that will be here today,” said Kirk. “This will be the biggest thing I’ve ever been to. I already know that.”

Added Scott, “It’ll be the biggest I’ve ever seen. I’m guessing around 700. Maybe 1,000 show up.”

The celebration of Ryan’s life already had drawn 250, maybe 300 people by the official starting time, 2 p.m., at Beaver Meadow. Things were just getting started. The event was scheduled to last until 5 p.m.

Dozens of individuals could be seen emerging from the makeshift parking lot and filing into and under a huge white tent. There were sliders to eat and photos to admire. Photos of Ryan and his lifelong partner, Chrissy Morrissey. Photos of his six sons, his brother, his parents, his ballplayers.

They stood under the tent on a hot afternoon, or they stood outside near the clubhouse and putting green. Scott mentioned the manner in which Ryan greeted everyone, with a firm handshake, eye contact and a smile.

“He was bigger than life,” said Scott, 50. “When you met Ryan, he had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. Once you got swallowed up in Ryan’s vortex, it was really hard to leave.”

Ryan and Scott grew up fighting. Nothing too serious, mind you. They were three years apart in age and star athletes while growing up and into Concord High School, the perfect formula for brotherly horseplay.

“I pounded on him all the time, and I never gave an inch to him,” Scott said. “If he was going to beat me, he had to earn it.”

They played baseball in their backyard, basketball out front. “It was just our competitive nature,” Scott said. “We played three sports.”

That was at Concord High, where the McGonigle family emerged as one of the first families of Concord sports.

Scott played quarterback in high school. So did an uncle in the family and Ryan’s son, 20-year-old, Ronan McGonigle, who was given the job only after his stepbrother, Trevor Smith, got hurt.

Ryan was also a great high school pitcher. One of the best in the state 30 years ago. Kirk mentioned the time in 1993, when his first cousin was scheduled to pitch for Post 21 in the American Legion state championship game.

There was a problem, though: Ryan couldn’t pitch for Post 21 that day because, as an all-star quarterback, he had to play in the annual Shrine Maple Sugar Bowl football game against Vermont.

Kirk was on that Post 21 squad. “I gave him (stuff) until the day he died,” Kirk said. “We 100% would have won. He was one of the best pitchers in the state, a fierce competitor, and he wanted the ball every game. He hated to lose more than he liked to win.”

Kirk called Ryan his best friend. The two played together for Merrrill’s Radiator in Little League 35 years ago and they coached together in Babe Ruth, leading Concord’s Senior Babe Ruth All-Star team to the World Series in 2018.

Ryan, in fact, did plenty of youth baseball coaching, using a no-nonsense style that held players accountable for dumb mistakes.

“He loved the kids enough to take interest in their lives outside of baseball,” Scott said. “So when he had to step on them, they knew it was from a place of love. He was able to get the most out of his players, put them in the right position. That’s why he was so successful, and that’s why so many kids will be here today to support him.”

One was Ryan Kastle, who played for Ryan in the 2018 Babe Ruth World Series and several other youth teams while growing up.

He described a coach who felt like he was part of the community. He felt the tough love.

It didn’t bother him one bit.

“He had the perfect balance between a mentor, a coach, a brother and a friend,” Kastle said. “If you did something wrong he was not going to let it slide. But if you wanted tough love and then a shoulder to cry on, he was your guy.”

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