By John Inverdale.
(Daily Telegraph: 18/01/2006)
So how's the January detox going? Given up yet, or still battling on through gritted teeth? If you're wavering about going to the gym today, maybe you won't be by the time you've finished this.
Ali Johnson will be going to the gym today. It's a very special gym - arguably the most remote in the whole country. It's in an old cattle shed high up on the moors near Haltwhistle in Northumberland, a Jonny Wilkinson drop-kick from Hadrian's Wall. He's in there morning, noon and night, trying to rebuild his life.
Less than 18 months ago, Ali was a highly promising prop forward, playing for Tynedale in National Division Three North. He'd had a few games for Newcastle's development team, and there was talk about the link becoming more permanent. Had the dice fallen another way, he could have been lining up alongside Jonny instead of facing the prospect of spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair.
But then a scrum collapsed. He'd spent £80 on a new pair of boots before the match against Fylde, and as he lay in hospital one of the nurses tried to cut them off. "What are you bloody doing?" he shouted. "They cost me a lot of money. I'll be wanting them again."
He won't, of course. But playing rugby once more is just about the only thing Ali Johnson has resigned himself to never doing again. Thanks to an exceptional bunch of guys at Tynedale, more than £200,000 has been raised to help Ali fight the biggest battle of his life.
There are very few areas of the North-East that don't know about his plight. Collection boxes in pubs have been filled to overflowing. Trendy wristbands (and they have to be OK if my 'cool' teenage daughter is prepared to wear one) have been sold by the thousand. As an example of a community rallying round a stricken individual, it's a story that's hard to beat.
I spent last week in Northumberland filming a documentary about Ali, and his belief that by working with an alternative therapist in London, he can one day get back on his feet. He feels abandoned by the NHS, who have offered him very limited physiotherapy, and so one day every week, he's up at six in the morning to begin an 18-hour travel ordeal that involves receiving treatment at a smart surgery in London's West End with the self-styled mind instructor, Hratch Ogali, who claims success with other spinal injury victims and sufferers from motor neurone disease.
The medical profession at large is sceptical about what Ogali preaches - his is the ultimate doctrine of mind over matter - but Ali believes in the philosophy. He's weaned himself off his anti-spasm pills, which made breathing almost impossible, he's got some movement back in his arms and there are positive signs of improvement in his shoulders. And every morning he's in the specially-designed gym, pedalling away on his exercise bike for hours on end, checking how much power is returning to his lower limbs. In the afternoon, he is close to mental and physical exhaustion as he lies on his purpose-built table-bed and tries to force his hand from the horizontal to touch his face. One of his ambitions is to scratch his nose. Think about that.
With the support of carers, friends and a wonderfully tight-knit farming family, his resolution and determination are truly inspiring. You will have your own thoughts about Ogali and his methods, but be in no doubt about what an exceptional young man Ali is.
He was a prop forward. A farmer. He liked his beer. But he has vowed never to have another pint until he stands on his own two feet once again. Which is why, day in day out, he's in the gym, working harder than most of us can conceive. Setting targets of minuscule improvement, which one day he believes will lead to his nirvana.
Ali's is a story about never quitting. Still unsure about going to your gym today?