‘If there’s no isolation, there’s no depression’
Matt Hampson hopes his ‘Get Busy Living’ project can empower those with life-changing injuries
There is no such thing as a lost cause for Matt Hampson. Never mind incidental worries, fleeting furrows in the brow, like the seeming gravity of England’s sequence of five defeats in six matches, or the dire straits Leicester Tigers found themselves in when having to sack Matt O’connor after one match.
Such setbacks are routine, even trivial affairs of their time. Tigers know that better than any, for Hampson is one of their own, felled by a collapsed scrum 13 years ago, his spinal cord severed. The then 20-year-old spent 18 months in hospital, down but far from out. Even though he still requires a ventilator to breathe, and was gravely ill last December with a bout of pancreatitis and pneumonia, resisting sleep for 10 days for fear that he might never again wake, Hampson is a life force who puts so many other concerns and anxieties into perspective.
“Get Busy Living” is his mantra. Today, Hampson will be front-ofhouse as his “dream” project, the Get Busy Living Centre in rural Leicestershire, is opened by Mike Tindall, patron of the Matt Hampson Foundation which was set up in 2011 to provide a rallying point for all those similarly affected by life-changing injuries.
The foundation is privately funded, reliant on benefactors. The money is being put to good use. The conversion of a disused aircraft hangar has taken two years to complete, from corrugated iron ruin to state-ofthe-art two-storey complex with high-end kitchen and living space as well as a joint able-bodied and disabled gymnasium.
It is a glass-fronted, welcoming space, accessible and user-friendly with big screen chill-out areas set alongside the FU (F----- Up Beyond Recognition) Bar, a self-ironic reference to Second World War military slang.
Hampson willed himself through his severe illness at the turn of the year “as I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing this place” come to fruition. Its aim is to help others “get living and to share experiences”, as he puts it.
“If you let the wheelchair or the accident define you, you’re knackered,” says Hampson. “It can feel like a bereavement when you first come out of hospital. I had no real purpose in life. That’s why we all need other people. If there is no isolation, there is no depression. The centre inspires me every day.”
For Hampson and his plight, read many others. On Saturday, Leicester and Northampton play at Twickenham in aid of Saints centre Rob Horne, who suffered full paralysis of his right arm during the self-same fixture in April.
Injury is a constant spectre in the game. Concussion continues to be a major source of worry. So, too, the blight of stress. The pressure to perform places significant psychological burdens on players.
All of these issues find their most resonant expression in Hampson, a character who could be resentful at what the sport he loves has done to him.
Instead, the highly regarded prop – his injury occurred during a training session at Franklin’s Gardens with England Under-21s – has brought the same zeal and never-say-die attitude to his life as once he brought to his rugby.
Some 60 or so people have already benefited from visiting the site ahead of its official first day. There has to be a sifting process of beneficiaries and the prime targets are those who have been severely injured through sport. No one though, in theory, is denied access as they look to rebuild their lives.
Hampson needs a 10-strong care team working around the clock to keep him alive. It takes three to four hours each morning just to get him ready for the day.
What he wants to help provide above anything else is a sense of normality from an abnormal situation. “My life isn’t bad, it’s just different,” says Hampson. “Some disabled people think the world owes them something. Well, you’ve got to get on with it. Who wants to be around a miserable git?
“We have difficult days but so does everyone. We try to empower people. Three guys have actually taken their first steps in our gym. Others just come to talk. There is no miracle cure – yet. And there’s no point hanging around miserably waiting for one. Hope is a massively powerful thing.”
Hampson’s body may restrict him but his persona refuses to be shackled. The Get Busy Living Centre is testimony to that, a monument to self-belief, to a sense of camaraderie and the notion of team that no handicap can crush.