A VOID UNFILLED HENDRICKSON'S LIFE AFFECTED BY THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER WHEN HE WAS A BABY.

Byline: TONY JACKSON 

Staff Writer

There is no recollection of the phone call that changed a family's life forever. There are no mental snapshots of a funeral, of a church filled with policemen in dress blues, of a series of stirring eulogies. But mostly, there is no memory of saying goodbye.

For Mark Hendrickson, there isn't even a memory of saying hello.

Hendrickson, the Dodgers left-hander who will start tonight's game at Cincinnati, was just five months old when his father, Officer Thomas Lee Hendrickson of the Washington State Patrol, was killed in the line of duty late in 1974. But the son, now 33 and coming off a solid performance Wednesday night against San Francisco in the midst of all the Barry Bonds hype, can easily tick off every detail of his father's death.

"He had pulled somebody over and was writing a citation," Hendrickson said. "While he was doing that, a teenaged boy that he had had some run-ins with before happened to be driving by with his girlfriend. They went by and saw that it was him. So they turned around, came back, swerved and hit him.

"They were obviously intoxicated. I think the guy only served about 10 years."

Meanwhile, Hendrickson and his older brother Steve, who was 2 1/2 at the time, were sentenced to the rest of their lives without their father, whom Mark estimates was in his early 30s when he was struck down -- younger, probably, than Mark is today.

Through the years, Mark has been able to glean enough details about the man he never knew that he has almost gotten to know him, mostly through stories told by family members.

"I spend a lot of time with my Uncle Vic, my dad's brother, and his family," Hendrickson said. "He has four kids, including three daughters who knew my dad. When it happened, my uncle wasn't the type of person he is now. But he changed when the kid was in the courtroom getting sentenced, because my uncle said he actually felt sorry for the kid."

While Hendrickson and his brother grew up without a father -- their mother never remarried and still lives in the same Mount Vernon, Wash., home where she raised the boys alone -- they weren't without a father figure.

Their grandfather was able to fight through the grief of his son's murder to become heavily involved in the boys' lives, especially when it came to sports, and he helped to ensure that their childhoods were as pleasant as possible.

"If you asked all the kids I played Little League with, my grandfather was probably the grownup they remember most," Hendrickson said. "He became known for (bringing) the Whatchamacallit chocolate bars and the Pepsi after games, and that was the background that got us started. I think he actually had a tryout with the Yankees."

But when Hendrickson was in junior high school, tragedy touched his life again. His grandfather died of natural causes. Shortly thereafter, his grandmother, grief-stricken yet again, committed suicide.

"My uncle told me once that my grandparents never got over my dad's death," Hendrickson said. "I never knew that as a kid. It was tough losing my grandfather, and my grandmother took her own life because she didn't want to live without him. It was a tough thing for us to go through, and it was a tough time in my life for it to happen."

Hendrickson now admits there were times when he was angry at all the misfortune life had stuck him with. But he also says sports gave him an outlet for that anger, a place to channel it, and he channeled it so well that after growing into a strapping adult listed at 6-feet-9 and 240 pounds, he became a basketball star at Washington State University and later one of the few individuals to play in both the NBA -- he logged time with four different teams from 1996-2000 -- and the major leagues.

His brother, meanwhile, chose a career as a juvenile corrections officer, working with troubled kids as a tribute to their late father. The two remain as close as ever, and they were profiled together earlier this summer in the Dodgers' official magazine.

Meanwhile, Mark has become, at least for now, a regular in the Dodgers' starting rotation, more than a year after the club acquired him from Tampa Bay.

That trade was supposed to bolster the team's pitching staff. Hendrickson was an established starter who had reached double figures in wins for the Devil Rays in both 2004 and '05.

Once he got to Los Angeles, though, things initially went sour. Hendrickson was 1-7 in 12 starts for the Dodgers before finally being moved to the bullpen last September. After that, pitching in a role with which he was completely unfamiliar, Hendrickson gave up one earned run in 10 2/3 innings, then pitched 2 2/3 scoreless innings in the playoffs.

"I think my Los Angeles experience has been great," Hendrickson said. "But it was one of those things where I probably wasn't ready for it. Coming from Tampa, this was a different level. After being through it, and going through what I went through last year, I'm a better person because of it, and I enjoy the game a lot more.

"That was my first time in the playoffs, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. You hate to say it, but in Tampa, especially with the division we were in, a lot of times it was just about getting through the season."

Hendrickson now lives in York, Pa., which is where his family lived before his parents and grandparents suddenly picked up and moved all the way across the country to Mount Vernon a few years before Mark was born.

The move would prove to be a fateful one, which might be one reason why his Uncle Vic moved back to Pennsylvania shortly after Thomas Hendrickson's death.

Being back there himself has given Mark a chance to be closer to Vic and learn more about his father. But he still has a deep affection for the town where his life was so touched by tragedy, but where he also grew into the man he is today.

"I loved the state of Washington," Hendrickson said. "I loved growing up there."

Even though he had to grow up there with a gaping void in his life.

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