DERRY — After the sixth or seventh visitor stopped by his bed in the Intensive Care Unit at Parkland Medical Center, Kevin Lynch started to get frustrated.

The visitors — attending interns, nurses and EMTs — all said the same thing: "You're a lucky man."

"When my doctor came in to see me, I asked him, 'Why is everybody saying I'm a lucky man?'" recalled Lynch, 49, of Andover.

His doctor simply responded, "Because you are."

A few hours earlier, Lynch had suffered a major heart attack from a complete blockage of the left anterior descending artery, the same blockage that took the life of NBC political commentator Tim Russert in June of last year. It's a type of heart attack so often fatal that it is referred to as "the widow maker."

"If this happened to 100 people, 95 would not have survived," said Chuck Hemeon, director of emergency medical services for the Derry Fire Department. "Mr. Lynch is a very lucky man."

Lucky that four trained medical professionals happened to be on hand when he suffered his heart attack on Sunday, Oct. 4.

That afternoon, Lynch was doing what he always does on Sundays in the fall — coaching football.

His team, the Andover Warriors 8th grade travel team, was locked in a 12-12 tie with their rivals, the Derry Wolverines, in the fourth quarter at Donald Ball Field in Derry.

But something wasn't right with Lynch.

"I started sweating profusely. It was more than normal," recalled Lynch. "But it was a really hot and humid day, about 70 degrees. And it was a close game. So I just figured it wasn't anything out of the ordinary."

He remembers complaining about a pain running up and down his chest, and then feeling numbness in his fingers.

Lynch's assistant coach, Gavin Evans, was about 15 yards away talking to a few of his players on defense at the time.

"Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kevin go down, face first," Evans said. "I thought he had fallen. I went over to see what was up. He was breathing with clenched teeth, and his eyes were rolled all the way back. He looked and sounded like he had a seizure."

For the love of the game

When it comes to football, Lynch likes to take luck out of the equation.

"You have to put a lot of time into football," Lynch said. "It's all about preparation, for coaches and players. That's one of the things I love about it."

Lynch started coaching youth football 15 years ago, before his two sons, Conor and Gavin, started playing. Then he coached both of his boys, now 22 and 20 years old, and decided he didn't want to give it up when they went on to high school.

"I love the sport so much, especially the camaraderie and team concept," he said. "Plus, I think it's important to get kids ready for the next level of football, in high school. It's nice to play a small role in making that happen."

Lynch's teams have a history of success. They've made the playoffs every year under his tutelage and won the championship in 2007.

But for all the preparation he puts into coaching football, there was nothing he could do to prepare for what happened on that October afternoon.

That's where luck came into play. Because if it weren't for the quick actions of four people in attendance at that Andover-Derry game, Lynch might not be here today. Three were parents — Dr. Dennis Begos of Andover and Newton Hull and Tracy Lannan of Derry. The fourth was Michael Specian, the on-duty emergency medical technician (EMT).

Begos' son, Stephen, was playing in the next game at 4:30 p.m. Begos was sitting in his car listening to the Patriots-Ravens game while Lynch's team played.

"The Patriots game was close (27-21). There were about two minutes remaining and (the Ravens) were on their last drive," said Begos, who is a surgeon at Winchester Hospital. "But I just shut it off and went over to the field and decided to watch the end of the first game. So I grabbed a chair and watched. I don't know why I didn't stay in the car to listen to the finish."

Specian, a Windham firefighter, works as an EMT in Derry on his off days. Per Derry Wolverines' rules, an EMT is hired to work all games.

"The game was going real well," Specian said. "There were no injuries to speak of. It was a nice day."

Tracy Lannan, who spent 16 years in the emergency room at Parkland Medical Center before moving to the oncology unit, was sitting in the bleachers with one of her friends awaiting the second game. Her son, Daniel, was warming up with his team.

"I was just there talking with my girlfriend," Lannan said. "It was like any other game."

Newton Hull has worked as a nurse for 14 years. On this day, he was on the Wolverines' sideline, charting plays for the coaches. His son, Michael, is a lineman for the Derry team.

A true team effort

Hull was writing notes on his clipboard when Wolverines assistant coach Pete Mazzola grabbed his shoulder said "Go!"

"I looked across (the field) and could see someone was down. I wasn't sure who it was," Hull said. "As I ran across, I could tell it was serious because he was lifeless."

Begos was the first to arrive. He was sitting about 20 feet away, behind the bench area.

"I was there literally 10 minutes when I saw Kevin collapse," Begos said. "Even though I'm a doctor, I'm the last guy on the field if a kid gets hurt. If the coaches ask me to come look at what's going on, I will."

On this day, he didn't wait for the call.

"For some reason, I just ran over there," he said. "I don't know what it was that made me do that."

Specian, the on-duty EMT, took off when he heard the ruckus on the Andover sideline. He ran across the field with Hull. Begos was already there trying to get vital signs, and Lannan followed soon after.

"It was amazing how quickly they were there," said Ellen Lynch, Kevin's wife. "The whole scene was very unreal, very intense. It's not like on TV. It was three or four people that didn't know each other. It was like clockwork."

Begos initially thought Lynch had suffered a seizure. But after a few minutes, he realized it was probably a heart attack.

"He lost his pulse and basically stopped breathing," Begos said. "I'm thinking, 'Man, this is the real thing.' I've done CPR in the hospital before. It's rare a person survives. It's usually a last ditch kind of thing."

Begos began doing compressions to Lynch's chest, and Lynch started breathing a little and moving his extremities. But it was only temporary, and a minute later, Lynch lost his pulse again.

When paramedics arrived at the scene, Lynch's heart wasn't beating. They applied defibrillator paddles to his chest, shocking his heart back to life.

"When the ambulance arrived, I wasn't so sure how things would turn out," Lannan said. "He wasn't looking so good. But it was amazing once they got the defibrillator to him. "

A breathing tube was inserted in Lynch's throat, but within seconds he was uncomfortable, grabbing the tube and trying to remove it.

"That was a good sign," Begos said, "the fact that he didn't want the tube in his throat."

Lynch was rushed to Parkland Medical Center in Derry, which was only a mile from the field. He went from the emergency room to the Catheterization Lab, where the exact blockage was determined, and then on to surgery.

Less than an hour had passed from the time Lynch collapsed to the start of his surgery, in which a stent was implanted in the main vessel leading to the heart.

"It's amazing how things unrolled for Mr. Lynch," said Hemeon, the Derry EMS director. "He's alive because of the teamwork that happened on the field. Fifty percent of the time there are no bystanders for CPR."

'The luckiest guy in the world'

Lynch has had an enlightening month since his heart attack.

Less than a week after he was discharged from the hospital, he attended a practice to speak to his team.

"I wanted them to see me, that I was OK. Four days earlier they saw me with paddles on my chest," Lynch said. "There were a lot of tears. I asked the kids to raise their hands if they were afraid that day. All of them raised their hands. I did, too."

Lynch has since changed his diet, combing labels at his local supermarket to find healthy foods.

He has spent a lot of time with his two brothers, Bill, of North Andover, and Mike, of Dunstable. He also traveled to Florida for five days last month to see his father, Joe.

Lynch went in for tests on Monday and Tuesday. On Thursday, he was told he is doing well, and he will return for another checkup in about two months.

"Physically, I feel good," he said. "But mentally, this has been a lot to soak in. I've needed to clear my head."

He has also found himself asking a lot of questions, questions that might not have answers.

"What if I have the heart attack on the bus? What if I have the heart attack on my couch at home watching the Patriots game?" Lynch asked. "I'm dead. That's hard to come to grips with."

The four people who played a role in keeping Lynch alive all say they will never forget that day.

"Kevin is alive, bar none, because of the teamwork that happened on the field," Specian said. "Without the nurses and the surgeon, more than likely the outcome could have been different."

Lannan said what took place on the field, with people she had never met before, couldn't have been more professional.

"Nobody knew anybody, which was the amazing part, but everybody knew the severity," she said. "Suggestions were made as a team. It was really impressive. Even the people that were there that had no medical knowledge were ready to help, too.

"One woman ran down to the concessions stand to see if there was a defibrillator around. Another volunteered to have cars moved so the ambulance could get in easily. The way everybody pitched in ... it was cool."

Hull has worked on many patients over his nearly two-decade career as an EMT and nurse. This one tugged at his heart strings.

"Normally, I don't get emotional," he said. "But this was different. I went to the game as a dad, and next thing you know we're helping save someone's life. It was an amazing experience."

Lynch said his life has changed forever.

He used to be proud of the fact that his teams had made the playoffs every year he coached.

"You know what?" he said. "That doesn't matter anymore."

Lynch said he will tell anyone who will listen, especially those with a family history of heart disease like him, "to get checked and eat right."

"I feel like a walking public service announcement," he said. "But I'm OK with that. I am alive and feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

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