Born to Perform (15 page)

It was six weeks to the Olympic Games in Sydney – what option had she? The Olympic Games only come around every four years. Time waits for nobody, and there was no way the date could be changed. I rang various people in the UK Athletics and British Olympic Association and tried to convince the authorities to give Kelly a special chance. She deserved that. Rules are there for a reason, but they can be bent. Kelly penned a letter to UK Athletics where she outlined that she was slowly getting back to form through training and treatment and asked to be given a chance to be included in the Olympic team.

As it turned out, Kelly Holmes was given a late selection for the Olympic Games in Sydney 2000. It was one of my most memorable moments in sport to witness Kelly, who had struggled so much, fighting her way onto the Great Britain Olympic team, and then, with true Olympic spirit, running to achieve a bronze medal in the 800-metre final.

It was a true argument for never underestimating someone's drive, talent and determination. A few months before the Olympic Games, UK Athletics refused to pay Kelly's medical expenses, stating to me that she was a bottomless pit, costing the system way too much money, and she would be best off retiring. Satisfaction does not come any better than working with someone through adversity, and being part of their achievement by assisting them to overcome injury and go on to win a medal in the Olympic Games.

Even more satisfying is the appreciation that can follow, such as a hand-written letter from an athlete who you have put your heart and soul into helping. The following letter from Kelly Holmes is a special one, and it is framed and displayed in my clinic at the University of Limerick's Sports Arena:

Dear Gerard,

There are few people in this world that I would thank for everything they have done to make me the athlete I am and the one I strive to be. But I thank you for all the time, care and attention you've given to enable me to continue to pursue my goals and dreams.

Without you I may not be running anymore. So everything I achieve from now is because of you.

You have given me hope when I've been at my lowest and belief when I am back running, and that is the most important thing you could ever give an athlete.

I am not the first person to give you thanks and I definitely won't be the last, but Gerard you deserve all the praise you get, so from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you,

Always,

Kelly Holmes

Four years later, at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, Kelly Holmes proved once again that “Excellence is perseverance in disguise.” She won the 800 metres and the 1,500 metres to become double Olympic champion.

In September 2005 Kelly Holmes was back with me in Limerick. The upcoming Commonwealth Games was her target and she was in with me for a two-week tune-up.

During her visit, I introduced Kelly to my good friend Tim O'Brien. Tim operated his own successful PR business across from my clinic in Patrick Street, and he was a sports fanatic, always promoting Limerick as a great sporting venue. He invented the “Sporting Limerick” logo. He convinced one of Limerick's greatest sons, the multimillionaire JP McManus, to fund the County Board and brand the county GAA jerseys with “Sporting Limerick”, so that, instead of the Limerick hurling and football teams sporting a commercial endorsement on their playing outfits, they have the “Sporting Limerick” logo.

On the final day of her visit, Kelly had a business meeting with Tim and they both adjourned for lunch together. Tim was not feeling well during the lunch, and in fact all he could muster up was the bare energy to sip some soup. The following days he spent in hospital and his family briefed me on the tragic news. The 63-year-old Tim, who had fought and appeared to beat cancer 8 years earlier, was again struck down with the deadly disease and was given just weeks to live.

Kelly Holmes decided to visit me in Limerick again. She planned to visit Tim in hospital during her stay. On October 21, the day that Kelly arrived into Shannon, Tim O'Brien's race had come to an abrupt and untimely end. Kelly Holmes was genuinely shocked and shaken by his death. Tim O'Brien's life was dominated by sport and the promotion of Limerick as a sporting centre of excellence, and he had made a profound impact on the many athletes and sportspeople whose lives he touched. During his short illness, Kelly had sent regular text messages and cards to Tim urging him to “fight to your last moment”.

Tim's death had a huge impact on Kelly, and actually led to her decision to quit athletics. On her visit, I spent time talking through with Kelly all things life and death. I cancelled all my appointments for two full days and Kelly and I spent from morning to night thrashing out the finer points of life.

A couple of weeks after Tim's death, Kelly phoned me and told me she had organised a press conference for the following day. She asked if she could use my name and if I could check with Tim's family if she could talk about the impact Tim had on her decision to quit. The following morning, after a press conference to over sixty journalists, Kelly Holmes, two-time Olympic gold medal winner, contacted me to let me know that she had announced her retirement and that she had told the media that the shock of Tim O'Brien's death had led her to quit while she was on top.

All the British and international media ran headline stories:

The double Olympic gold medallist Kelly Holmes announced her retirement in London today, stating: “Tim O'Brien's death shook me to pieces. One minute I was having lunch with Tim and he was passionate about sport and now he is dead. It was an eye opener. I have achieved everything in my sporting life and hopefully have a healthy and fulfilling life ahead of me and Tim O'Brien had his life, but suddenly had it taken away from him. It really upset me. Tim caused me to rethink my whole approach to life. His death is the catalyst for my decision to hang up my spikes and retire.”

Over the years I have spent many imaginary hours cycling with Laurent Fignon. The two-time Tour de France winner was born exactly six months before me, in 1960, and I had the pleasure to meet him on various occasions. When his best friend and team mate Pascal Jules died in a car accident, Laurent Fignon went into shock and stated: “For years and years I thought of him every day, and I still think of him regularly. But since his funeral I've been unable to visit his grave. I simply don't have the strength. I can't do it. The way life ends is unique in itself, like the end of a little world. Death at 26 years of age is a notion that I find unbearable.”

I also found it unbearable to hear the news that Laurent Fignon, one of cycling's truly great champions, succumbed to pancreatic cancer, and died on August 31, 2010, aged just 50. His death and the death of other friends is the catalyst that spurs me to put on my cycling gear and go out into the bleakest of weather, to turn the pedals, not just those of the bike but the pedals of life, while I still have the health and strength to explore my physical self and feel truly alive.

But I'm fortunate, too, in that I get so many reminders from other people equally driven to succeed and get as much as possible out of life. One of those people is Seán Óg Ó hAilpín, who must personify what the GAA is all about. He also personifies brotherly love and the fellowship of sport. He is one of my true friends, but only for an accident that could have taken his life, we would probably never have met.

In June 2001, Seán Óg was driving along in his car when there was a sudden bang – he was involved in a car crash. He lay in a hospital bed, realising that he was a very lucky man to be alive. His right leg had been operated on; his knee cap had been shattered. The orthopaedic surgeon explained that he may never play contact sports again and Seán Óg respectfully nodded his head. He had already won All-Irelands and had many awards, so he reckoned he had achieved a lot.

Then a specialist in Dublin referred him to me. He arrived into the clinic on two crutches, with a knee the size of a balloon and that he couldn't flex even ten degrees. After that visit, Jimmy McEvoy, the faithful backroom member of the Cork hurling squad, drove Seán Óg up to my clinic twice weekly for weeks on end. The doctors knew Seán Óg was an accomplished hurler, but they had no yardstick of his drive. His drive and hunger to overcome his injury went way above doing everything in his power to resolve it. He did everything I asked of him and way more.

Seán Óg, ever the perfectionist, chiselled himself into such shape that, when he was fully rehabilitated, he was as fine an athlete as any Olympian I ever worked with. Seán Óg was a duel player at the time of his accident, playing both football and hurling at the highest level. His kicking leg for football was his right leg, the injured leg. I explained to Seán Óg the concept of “want all, lose all”. He could not have everything. Something had to go. Seán Óg, ever the respectful gentleman, nodded his head and commented: “I know what you are going to say – football must go.”

I didn't have to explain myself or say another word. From that moment, hurling was his mission. Some sportspeople focus too much on their little niggles and injuries, and rob themselves of their true potential. Not Seán Óg. He said: “Let's drive on.” The effort and work that he put himself through to get back to the top was, to this day, by far the best I have ever witnessed in an amateur sportsman.

On a later occasion, when putting Ronan O'Gara, Seán Óg and Setanta Ó hAilpín through a specially designed conditioning session, Seán Óg buckled the two professional sportsmen and had them wondering what material he was made of. In 2004, when the final whistle was blown on Cork's victory in the All-Ireland hurling final in Croke Park, Seán Óg Ó hAilpín looked up to the Heavens and thanked his Lord and lucky star. The great Kilkenny hurler Henry Shefflin shook his hand in congratulations, and beckoned to swap jerseys. Seán Óg politely replied: “Sorry, Henry, it's being kept for a special man in Limerick.”

Seán Óg had faced his demons. He and his team were All-Ireland champions once again, and he was awarded with the Hurler of the Year award and named Cork captain for the following year. As a true measure of the man he is, weeks after the All-Ireland, Seán Óg drove to Limerick and presented me with the jersey he wore in the All-Ireland final, with the message across it; “Gerard, thanks for the belief. Seán Óg Ó hAilpín, Hurler of the Year 2004.” He was spot-on: belief is paramount to success.

When Seán Óg's younger brother Setanta Ó hAilpín broke onto the Cork senior hurling scene, the GAA world knew it had a new star in the making. Surely he was wasted on the indigenous amateur game of Irish hurling? That summer season of Sundays in 2003, he was sensational on the field along with being the heart throb of every young lady in the country.

When he visited my clinic for tune-ups, I marvelled at his physical capabilities and had no option but to encourage him to spread his wings and fly away to follow his dream of becoming a professional athlete. He signed up with Carlton Football Club in Melbourne, Australia and, as a rookie, he adapted straightaway to being a full-time professional athlete.

So much hope, so much promise and expectation, along with the demands of having to perform every time he togged out and a conflict with his Melbourne club manager, threw him into despair and he touched the darkness of depression. He was full of anger and frustration, lashing out at everyone and anyone. I had to bite my lip and listen to him venting his anger several times on long-distance phone calls. I just listened; I was the ear he needed to cope with his turmoil. Sometimes just listening and giving a few practical tips is all that is required.

Months later, when Setanta had settled and found his form again, he came to visit me in Limerick. He grabbed me – or rather bear-hugged me – almost squashing me breathless. I've captured the moment in my mind and it's worth a thousand words. Then he presented me with his navy Carlton football jersey, signed with a silver pen with the message:

To Ger,

“Short term pain for long-term gain.”

Your phone calls changed my life. Thanks so much for the great work you have done for me. I won't forget it. You taught me that those who work hard reap the rewards. Thanks for showing me this.

Setanta Ó hAilpín

#17, Carlton Football Club,

Melbourne, Australia

19

The Rewards of Perseverance – Ronan O'Gara, Séamus Moynihan, Henry Shefflin and John Tennyson

In March of 2005 Ronan O'Gara came knocking at my door. He looked like a man in dire straits. He had injured his right knee playing for Munster against the Gwent Dragons in a Celtic League match at Rodney Parade in Wales. Straightaway, it looked bad: he was carried off the pitch, unable to walk. The Lions Tour that summer looked like it would have to do without him. The feather in his cap of being selected for the Lions Tour would go too, along with the handsome pay cheque.

O'Gara sought the professional expertise of Mr Ray Moran, the specialist knee surgeon in Dublin. The worst was confirmed: he had a grade two tear of the medial collateral ligament, but, worse again, the anterior cruciate ligament was also partially torn. Surgery looked to be the only solution and Mr Moran talked through the prognosis with Ronan. With surgery there was no chance of his making the Lions Tour, then seven weeks away. So Ronan signed a consent form which gave the surgeon license to do whatever repair work he deemed necessary, once he was on the operating table.

Then, the morning of the surgery, Ronan threw Mr Moran a curveball. The Dublin-based physio Alan Kelly had suggested O'Gara consult with me before having surgery in an attempt to get the leg treated and healthy for the Lions Tour, and that he deal with any necessary surgery afterwards. Mr Moran is a good friend of mine, and he contacted me directly to see if I could commit to ensure the necessary result.

O'Gara wrote about his treatment in his autobiography:
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For me, the decision to work with Ger was straightforward. I needed massively intensive, one-on-one attention and he was the best in the business. He was my only chance of making the Lions Tour. […] I was in Ger's clinic five days a week, six hours a day and sometimes we'd do a Saturday session as well. I used to stay with Quinny [Alan Quinlan] in Limerick for three nights during the week and do the 120-mile round journey from Cork on the other days.

The regime was murder. The hardest thing I ever had to do in my career… It was like he took me apart and built me back up again. I went to him with an injured right knee and he identified about five other areas of serious weakness in my physical make-up. My left knee, he said, was weak and unstable. That was my good knee.

There were days in his clinic when I broke down. My body couldn't take it. My mind was making demands that my body couldn't meet. I went through every emotion from hope to despair and back. You spend so much time trying to push through the pain barrier that it wrecks your head and drains your body. One of Ger's partners is a Kerryman Ger Keane and he was incredibly positive. When things were getting on top of me he kept me going. […]

Before I left Ger's clinic he had me doing one-legged hops, jumping off small tables and all kinds of exercises. I knew it was all right. I felt like a new man.

O'Gara, in fact, started in the Celtic Cup Final against Llanelli seven weeks after his injury occurred. He was already back to his best:

The match went like a dream. We [Munster] won. I scored 17 points, including an early try, and got the Man of the Match award. I felt fresh, strong and sharper than I had felt in about three years. […] After all the additional work that Ger had done I had about an extra 5 metres on my pass off either hand… I was pretty euphoric in a television interview afterwards and I didn't hold back in my praise of Ger… Until you have experienced a serious injury you have no idea how lonely and challenging it can be. I was over that now.

With some injuries, time heals and the doctor sends the bill; others need a lot of work and commitment. As a physical therapist, the challenge is always there to expedite injury time, to help athletes cope through their crisis – but the task is also to educate them and give them hope, and facilitate the healing process in both mind and body.

In July 2005, Kerry football manager Jack O'Connor sent Séamus Moynihan to me in an effort to have him healthy for the All-Ireland semi-final and, hopefully, the final that September. Jack O'Connor knew that if he ever needed a man to go to war with, Séamus Moynihan would be on the top of his list. Since making his intercounty debut with Kerry in 1992, fourteen seasons earlier, Séamus had become a living legend in the world of Gaelic football. Séamus could play at wing-back, centre-back or full-back and perform to such a high level in each that you'd think whatever position you saw him play in on a particular day was his best. He had a style and panache that were uniquely his and those dashing incisive runs from half-back through opposing defences worked magic when he was healthy and on form.

My best effort to rid Séamus of his back and hip injury was good enough that Jack and his selectors named Séamus on the starting team for the All-Ireland. But on the day of the final the great player was not firing on all cylinders and he was later substituted. Head held low, he walked into the tunnel under the Croke Park stands. The pangs of disappointment and frustration brought him to tears. Not tears of self-pity, but tears for failing to deliver. He had let himself and his people down. This was completely new territory for him. In his lengthy career with Kerry there had been lean years, years when Kerry saw no silverware coming home – but to be taken off for underperforming in an All-Ireland final in Croke Park, against great rivals Tyrone, was too hard to stomach; perhaps harder still because the men from across the border won the final.

Séamus ploughed on into the winter season, playing with his local club Glenflesk, but the injury nearly sent him demented and he confided in his long-time friend Fr Kevin O'Sullivan that he would hang up his intercounty boots and slip out of playing for his county, hoping that it would go unnoticed.

Fr Kevin knew that if Séamus were to retire on an injury, in defeat, then he would come to regret it years later. He urged Séamus to come to me. On the first week of November 2005, my colleague Ger Keane and I met with Séamus in my clinic in Limerick and put together a rehabilitation and performance strategy for a six-month individualised programme. This was designed to get Séamus healthy for the following championship year. It involved visits to the clinic every two weeks for three hours of intensive physio and intensive rehabilitation sessions, and a home exercise programme of 90 minutes every day, along with cycling and pool work to build endurance and cardiovascular fitness. The long, hard grind and slow progress of the winter began to yield results in the spring, and when the summer arrived Séamus Moynihan had a new-found spring in his step. Not only was he more flexible, but his core was the strongest it had ever been.

At 34 years of age he had found a new gear and he was injury free for the first season in several years. Séamus was Man of the Match in several games that summer, and he played one of the best games of his career in the 2006 All-Ireland final when Kerry won easily against an underperforming Mayo. Ger Keane and I sat in Croke Park that day, joyous that we had contributed to seeing Séamus Moynihan play his last intercounty match and end his career at the very top. To see him hold the Sam Maguire cup, which he and his Kerry team mates won, brought tears to our eyes.

On the Wednesday after the final, we shared a special evening in Séamus' house, along with his wife Noreen and newborn son Jamie. This great player, respecting that every sportsperson has his day, announced to us in the privacy of his home that fifteen years in the green and gold jersey of Kerry, serving his county, had been enough. Family and playing for the local club would be his lifeline for the years ahead. Sometimes the hardest decision for an athlete to make is to retire at the top of their game, but Séamus had made the right choice, and had walked away entirely content and with no regrets. That's a privilege few athletes get to enjoy, but he had deserved it.

A few weeks later, ever the gentleman, Séamus presented me with his Kerry jersey and Adidas boots that he wore in the All-Ireland final, with the written message:

Ger,

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was a miracle! Thanks for making 2006 so special.

Séamus Moynihan

On January 19, 2007, I was invited to a celebration of the football career of Séamus Moynihan, held at the Great Southern Hotel in Killarney and organised by his own club, Glenflesk. Over 600 people attended the dinner function, and Mícheál O'Muircheartaigh, Ogie Moran and I were asked to speak a few words of wisdom and insight about Seamus.

Aside from acknowledging that Séamus epitomised what is best about Gaelic football, I mentioned that the occasion epitomised the importance of the local hero, and the power of the local club and the parish.

It is obvious to me that international sports stars who are household names may make their name, fame and fortune on the sports grounds and tracks around the world, and they are respected for their achievements, but the GAA club player, the inter-county player, is connected to his local club and the sporting heritage and prowess of his county, and is ultimately connected to his own people, young and old. In Séamus Moynihan's case, the celebration of his football career was presented by his people, reflecting their local pride and that his success was their success. An accolade is much more powerful when celebrated by one's very own community of family, friends and neighbours, and extended parish and sporting community.

In August 2010, Kilkenny hurling manager Brian Cody contacted me. Along with his backroom medical staff, he put it to me to take their two star players, both with acute cruciate ligament injuries, for treatment. This was just four weeks before the All-Ireland final where Kilkenny were shooting for the historic five-in-a-row. Henry Shefflin and John Tennyson had both succumbed to the dreaded injury just weeks before the biggest day of their lives, the day when the “drive for five” could reward them with a historical victory. For Shefflin it was actually the second time he'd sustained the injury, as he tore the cruciate in his other knee in 2007.

The odds of recovering in time were stacked against them, but they had the belief, and also the dedication, commitment, drive, work ethic and ability to endure pain. Eleven days before the All-Ireland final, Shefflin and Tennyson both turned up in Nowlan Park for training. Team players were shocked to see them and those watching from the stand reacted like they'd seen Lazarus rise from the dead. Around 8,000 people flooded into Nowlan Park to witness the spectacle. Mobile camera phones were flashing galore. Fans were on their phones, texting and phoning their friends and family with the news. The miracle of all miracles had occurred. Shefflin was on fire, jumping into the air for the high balls and driving them into the back of the net. Likewise, Tennyson was defending as good as new. Kilkenny would be sure of the victory now. The GAA media went into overdrive.

What made their comeback against the odds happen was their belief, along with all the other necessary components of success. However, it rained heavily on the day of the final and the pitch at Croke Park had turned slippery. The fact that it hadn't rained in over three weeks added to the perils of the surface. Henry Shefflin got off to a fierce start, playing faster than ever. Then he jumped for a high ball and, on landing, badly twisted his leg. With that, his day was done. He hobbled off the pitch in agony, damaging cartilage in his knee. He had lasted until fourteen minutes into the game. Tennyson played on for the full 70 minutes; his knee held up. But it just wasn't to be Kilkenny's day. They had come up against a Tipperary team that peaked brilliantly on the day, with Larry Corbett scoring three magnificent goals to help ensure Tipperary were All-Ireland hurling champions once again. It had been a nine-year wait since their previous win in 2001, another lesson perhaps that, in sport, it can be a feast or a famine. But the lesson that day for Shefflin was that luck is always a factor too, and one we have no control over.

But setbacks come and go; talent and genius remain. Nine months after that All-Ireland defeat, Henry Shefflin was back to his brilliant best, scoring 1-9 in the Leinster final against Dublin. Some people had wondered if Shefflin would ever be the same player again, and if he had been wise to play in the All-Ireland final in 2010 – that perhaps he did himself some permanent damage. His performance in that Leinster final was the answer. Shefflin was as electrifying as ever, as Kilkenny won their seventh Leinster title in succession and Shefflin himself collected his twelfth Leinster medal. There wasn't even a minor hint of the knee injury that cut short his season in 2010.

In 2011 Shefflin reached the peak of his sporting career when he won his eighth All-Ireland Championship medal, a record that he shares with the most eminent hurlers in the history of the game, including Christy Ring of Cork and John Doyle of Tipperary. Persistence and determination had once again paid off.