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Sunday, June 17, 2001

By Robert Dvorchak, Post-Gazette Sports Writer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as The Bard phrased it, are part of baseball.

Like being booed in your hometown, or sustaining a sprained knee during a start on the road that keeps you from pitching the first game in PNC Park, or taking a hot smash off your pitching hand that breaks the top bone in the index finger, or being on a team that, as they say in sports, has taken it to another level -- in reverse.

But then there are real-world crises like seeing your father stricken with a viral infection in the brain that sends him into a coma while the doctors tell you, your mom and your four brothers that your father is on his death bed and won't recover.

Terry Mulholland coped with that medical emergency in 1998 -- when his dad beat all the odds and baffled the doctors by pulling through -- which gives him a mountaintop's worth of perspective in coping with this year's trials and tribulations.

"I never expected to see him again," Mulholland said. "To be able to see him in the seats behind homeplate when I pitch is a feeling I have a hard time putting into words."

The story would be rejected as implausible if it were a Hollywood script. But it's too incredible to make up. And of course, it has an otherworldly baseball connection because Terry Mulholland Sr., his son the pitcher and all his boys are Pirates fans and baseball fans.

The older Mulholland labored in a hard hat and steel-toed shoes at Crucible Steel's old mill in Midland while attending night classes at the University of Pittsburgh to earn his degree in mechanical engineering.

"Nothing was handed to my dad. He had to go out and earn it. That's one thing I know I've taken from him," Terry Jr. said. "My dad and my mom provided an opportunity for me to play baseball and follow my dream."

Such a workload meant that dad wasn't around much during the week, and it fell to mom to raise the Mulholland boys. But on weekends, the older Mulholland found time for his sons and cultivated their interests in sports.

Terry Jr. was such a baseball fanatic that his grandparents gave him a transistor radio for his First Communion so he could listen to Bob Prince's radio broadcasts of Pirates games, especially when they were on the coast and the rest of the house was sleeping.

He was good enough in baseball and basketball at Laurel Highlands High School in Uniontown to have his scholastic number retired. He then studied sports medicine at Marietta College in Ohio, helping his school win one Division III championship and getting back to the championship again while earning Division III All-American honors, and no father was ever prouder of a son.

Mulholland made it to the major leagues in 1986, and during a 15-year career, has pitched in two World Series and been on the mound in an All-Star game, and his dad was a fan of every team he played for while he maintained his allegiance to the Pirates.

But in August of 1998, while Mulholland was pitching for the Cubs, his dad was stricken and lapsed into a coma. Although the Cubs were in a pennant race, Mulholland left the team to be at his dad's side for a time. But when it looked like the vigil would be a long one, Mulholland rejoined the Cubs.

It was in the second inning of a Saturday, Aug. 22, game with the Astros that Mulholland got the word in the dugout from his family back in Uniontown that his father wasn't expected to survive the weekend. He was in something akin to the death ward, and it was just a matter of time.

Cubs Manager Jim Riggleman excused the pitcher to take the first flight home, but Mulholland knew his dad would want him to stay to help the team. Then he could catch a flight back home later that night.

As the events played out, Mulholland's services were needed that day by Riggleman and the Cubs. Like he always does when he enters a game, Mulholland checked the scoreboard to make sure of the situation and noticed that the clock read 2:15. He felt a calm come over him when he jogged across the Wrigley Field grass, a sign that he interpreted as meaning his father had passed away.

"I could have sworn that he had died. I just felt it," Mulholland said.

Back in the hospital, the family at the bedside had the nationally televised game on the TV. Just as the pitcher came in from the bullpen to throw his warmup pitches, the elder Mulholland opened his eyes and looked up at the TV set, startling everyone in the room by saying, "Terry's in." It was 2:15.

While the family alerted nurses and doctors, the father watched his son pitch as if nothing had happened.

Back at Wrigley Field, after the game, Mulholland got another phone call that he figured would give him the unwanted news. Instead, his brother Danny asked if he wanted to speak to his dad.

"I never expected to talk to him again. I just couldn't believe he was on the line," Mulholland said.

The senior Mulholland relayed part of the story when he drove to Cincinnati for the second game of the season to watch his son start for the Pirates.

"I'm not supposed to be here. I was supposed to be dead. I can't explain it, and no doctor has been able to explain it either. Each day, for me, is a gift. You learn to never take anything for granted again," the father said.

The recovery wasn't complete. The senior Mulholland can't read and has short-term memory loss. But, retired now, he plays golf with his buddies in Uniontown. And because his son bought six season tickets behind home plate, he comes to PNC Park often to savor the pride of seeing his son pitch for the Pirates in the major leagues.

The seats are in the section where Kevin McClatchy sits. And when the music blares to get the crowd going, McClatchy will turn around and encourage Terry Mulholland Sr. to get up and dance to help start a rally.

"While you're here, you might as well have fun and enjoy it," his son said.

Happy Father's Day? For the Mulhollands, every day is like Father's Day.