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Injured hockey player displays his perseverance

A topic recently in teacher Chic Kelly's Malvern Prep theology class was prayer, or specifically: What can we ask of God?

Home from Malvern Prep, Chic Kelly has help from brother Mike and nephew Owen. Fran, his mother, gets him at his job daily. (Ron Tarver / Staff Photographer)
Home from Malvern Prep, Chic Kelly has help from brother Mike and nephew Owen. Fran, his mother, gets him at his job daily. (Ron Tarver / Staff Photographer)Read more

A topic recently in teacher Chic Kelly's Malvern Prep theology class was prayer, or specifically: What can we ask of God?

"If you pray for God to heal you," one student offered, "ask for a 100 percent cure."

Kelly, with striking blue eyes, sandy hair, and a movie-star-chic stubble that he forgot to shave that morning, knocked that idea down.

"Lots of people get sick and lots of people pray and they don't get better," he said. "What are we praying for?"

The answer, Kelly said, is "acceptance, because when we pray for healing, inevitably the answer we receive is mostly 'no.' "

Chic Kelly knows firsthand about acceptance, and wounds that won't heal.

He has learned to accept much in the 23 years since he careened headfirst into the boards during routine drills at a hockey practice at Merrimack College in Massachusetts. A spinal-cord injury left him a quadriplegic, with only some movement in his upper arms.

He's learned to accept living at 41 with his parents in East Norriton. And he's learned to accept arduous daily routines such as two hours spent with a nurse each morning getting washed and dressed for work. He accepts that he needs help for so many of the little things, from logging into a computer to getting to work or to his beloved Phillies games.

But there is one inconvenience the former high school jock still will not accept.

Kelly has been engaged in a long campaign to persuade the NCAA - the college sports authority that insured Merrimack's hockey program when he was injured - to increase his annual nursing payments to $100,000, the amount paid out to athletes injured since 1995.

Despite Kelly's lobbying, the NCAA has not budged from the $30,000 yearly payment guaranteed under the insurance plan in force at the time of his injury.

The NCAA on Friday said it was looking into the case.

For the moment, Kelly's parents, Fran and Charles "Chic" Sr., both 68, must provide most of their son's care themselves.

"My parents aren't going to be able to do this forever," Kelly said.

Kelly wants to be able to lead the active life that he has carved out for himself without being a bother.

"If I had that $70,000, it would allow me to be a lot more independent," he said. "I wouldn't have to rely on my parents, my brothers and sister, my friends. . . . I could live on my own."

Kelly became obsessed with hockey in the era of the Flyers' Stanley Cup-winning teams. He started playing at about 6. When he reached high school age, he persuaded his parents to send him to Malvern Prep because nearby Bishop Kendrick did not have a hockey team.

After high school, he was planning to attend Connecticut's Fairfield University when he learned about an academic scholarship offered by Merrimack.

Choosing Merrimack, Kelly competed against 100 other skaters for the last slots on the hockey team. He led the group in scoring and made the roster. It was the highlight of what would be an all-too-brief collegiate career.

During practice, Kelly was bearing down on goal when he caught the goalie's stick under his skates and slammed headfirst into the boards.

"I went to get up and I was completely numb," he recalled. "I couldn't feel anything except for my face, neck, and shoulders."

Kelly had broken his fourth cervical vertebra. He wound up in the hospital on a respirator for four months.

Two things propelled Kelly forward. One was his glass-half-full perspective on his new life.

"I'm really fortunate," he said, noting it could have been worse. "I have some movement in my arms. I can do some things. I can do a hand bike, use a mouse on a computer, and brush my own teeth."

Also remarkable is the support of his family, which includes two brothers and a sister. Within 11 months of the accident, with his family's help, he was back in college, at St. Joseph's University.

He majored in economics and philosophy. After graduation, he landed what he thought would be a temporary job at Malvern. He has been there since, teaching economics and theology.

While his family provided his support network, times change.

Kelly's siblings are married with children, leaving less time for their brother. His parents say their son's care is getting harder for them.

"We're not getting any younger," said Fran Kelly, who picks her son up at work almost every day, then spends the next five or six hours helping him with everything from exercising to eating to grading papers. "We need a break here."

After Kelly saw a TV feature about Travis Roy, a Boston University hockey player who suffered an almost identical spinal-cord injury in 1995, he learned that the NCAA had more than tripled its nursing-care coverage since his accident. He began petitioning the organization for equal treatment.

"The response is always the same," Kelly said. " 'We can't do anything.' "

He said he thinks the NCAA fears that it might be "opening a Pandora's box" of others demanding more coverage, but he said his research shows that only a handful of people are receiving payments under the older $30,000-a-year plan.

In a statement, the NCAA said it was aware of Kelly's "compelling story" and was looking into his policy.

"The process of working with insurance companies and claims that date back 20 years or more is complex," according to the NCAA. "Regardless, we are working on identifying any and all options."

He has considered a lawsuit but is uncertain if he has a case.

"There's a big difference between legality and morality," he said.

"From a human perspective, you think they'd be empathetic and understanding and looking for the possibility of solutions."

Kelly has mastered the art of what's possible.

After teaching the lesson on prayer at Malvern Prep, his last class of the day, a colleague transferred Kelly's thin frame into a car and disassembled his wheelchair so it fit in the backseat. At home, his mother, who got a break from chauffeuring that day, greeted him in the driveway and reassembled the chair before pulling Kelly out of the car and pushing him into the house for the long night ahead.

One question loomed from earlier: Did Kelly himself ever pray for healing - or just acceptance?

"Obviously everybody hopes for miraculous intervention," he said, "but I wasn't expecting that to happen. It was better to deal with the reality of the situation."

Which is why he will not stop lobbying the NCAA.