The Key is his ability to build relationships with everyone he meets
Two days after the Manasquan High (N.J.) baseball team dropped a 6-3 decision to Raritan (N.J.), coach Art Gordon gathered his team in the Big Blue Warriors' locker room.
"What happened?" asked Gordon, a dusty baseball lifer with a notoriously short fuse.
"We lost," the team replied in unison.
Gordon pressed.
"Why?"
"Because Frankie wasn't there."
The boys were pinning the defeat squarely on the slender shoulders of Frankie Kineavy, a wheelchair-bound, nonverbal, 18-year-old senior who was born with cerebral palsy.
Frankie Kineavy and his Manasquan teammates have put together a successful season.
Instead of plodding through the loss with his teammates, Kineavy had spent that Saturday mingling with his fellow accepted students at Villanova University. Kineavy's buddies were only half-joking when they blamed him for the loss. His presence in the dugout is not a token. He is not there to simply tug on a few heartstrings. Yes, he is an inspiration. But he also is a knowledgeable baseball resource and is there to help his beloved school win ballgames.
"He's like the second coach," senior Barry Jost said. "If anybody is messing up, he's right there to tell them about it."
Senior Pat McWade was eager to jump in.
"He just doesn't yell as loud."
Like any other member of the team, Kineavy is not immune to some locker room chop busting. And he's quick to give it right back using a makeshift keyboard on his motorized wheelchair. On one side of the board is a printout listing commonly used words like "who," "what," "where," "when" and "why." On the other is the alphabet and numbers. He points to the words and letters he wants to use, spelling out his thoughts. It takes a few minutes to catch Kineavy's style, but those thoughts regularly lead to a room full of genuine laughter.
Kineavy has worked his way into the hearts of the entire community.
The endless trash-talking started, Kineavy said, "When they found out I was just physically handicapped."
Bestowed with this untraditional gift of gab, Kineavy has become the face of Manasquan athletics. He started as an assistant coach on the basketball team and then expanded the role to include baseball and football. In December, a regional newspaper ran a front-page picture of the Big Blue Warriors celebrating their Central Jersey, Group II state football championship. The frame was full of flexing jocks, raising helmets high over broad, padded shoulders. Smack in the middle of the revelry was a skinny Kineavy, grinning along with his teammates.
In all three sports, Kineavy's role consists of analyzing game film and scouting upcoming opponents. He routinely asks the coaches for more responsibility.
"At first I thought, you know, we'll have him around, make him feel good," Gordon said. "No. Uh-huh. It's not a feel-good story. I don't know what we'll do without him."
"It's not just the sports," Kineavy said of his attachment to the school. "It's everything."
The key to Kineavy's ascension to Manasquan royalty is his ability to develop relationships with everybody he meets. At first, people aren't sure how to react to a teenager who can't walk or talk. Kineavy said meeting people for the first time is his biggest challenge. But when they take the time to stop and read what he has to say, they're hooked.
"He inspires us and his classmates because of everything he does," said Sean McCarthy, Manasquan's dean of students. "We hope to use his life to show other kids that if they work hard, aim high and never give up, you can accomplish anything."
He has excelled in every aspect of high school life. He has a date for the prom and approaches graduation armed with a solid A average. Once he was asked whether he took normal classes. "No," he said, "I take honors classes." Two months before he graduates, Kineavy has a hard time picking out a favorite Manasquan memory.
"Do I have to pick one?" he said. "Or can I say something that I do every day, like just going into the cafeteria?"
On his 18th birthday, the catering staff decorated that cafeteria with balloons and the entire school sang "Happy Birthday." No corner of the building remains untouched by Kineavy's friendship. One day, his father dropped him off at school. Instead of heading into the building for class, he wheeled toward the maintenance department to say hi to the guys who voluntarily fix his chair.
"I've never seen him in a bad mood," his father said. "People look forward to seeing him. He makes people feel better."
"I think Frankie has developed lifelong friendships with people," McCarthy said. "We see the way Frankie changed teachers and students. He showed people what it's like to be handicapped. He can't walk and talk, but his brain is better than ours."
By Ned Winner for more on the story go to espn.com