Recovering via Boxing and Biking

Following the accident, John Famechon was admitted into intensive care

Source: Microsoft Copilot / Microsoft

John Famechon suffered an incapacitating brain injury in August 1991. In October 1992, John was advised he would remain incapacitated. On December 18, 1993, a new and novel complex brain-based multi-movement therapy began. By March 1994, John was walking; he had run, bounced on a mini-trampoline; and was “boxing and biking.”

The “boxing and biking” continued. I focused on what I was doing, and John, of course, focused on what he was doing. As I looked at John, it appeared to me that he had entered into what seemed to me to be another world of focus, intensity, and commitment. It was clear to me that I was engaging in an almost surreal world. I was involved in sparring with the former featherweight champion of the world.

My role in this boxing and biking activity was to continuously throw punches at John while he sat upright, self-balanced, and pedalled on his exercise bike. The only commands that took place were when I called out “fast” or “slow.” This meant that while I directed punches at John, he had to continue his defensive boxing movements.

Another connecting complexity was added. I would also call out “forward” or “backward.” This meant John was now required to change from pedalling forward to backward and/or backward to forward (plus, contiguous with this). John had to continue with his defensive boxing skills against the punches I was continually directing at him, which (as was agreed from the start) could be fast, slow, or unpredictable.

John classically defends and parries with his right

Source: Photograph Graham Hartley

Plus, there was also no time limit on the pedalling actions or the overall time limit of the activity. The only time limit this boxing and biking had was when I called to stop.

In all of what we were doing, I monitored John carefully. I could always see when there were times John was getting tired or confused (especially when we reached the complexity of the multi-movement “event horizon”). However, John never called a halt at any time. As such, when I did call a stop to the activity, John would smile and cheekily say: “Looks like you can’t hack it.” (Meaning, it was me who was unable to deal with the effort). To which I would reply: “You’re right, John, I can’t hack it.”

This process of John never requesting a stop to any activity (no matter how complex or challenging the endeavour) provides significant affirmative insight into John’s powerful and indomitable mental, emotional, and physical determination, as well as his extraordinary willpower, fighting spirit, and unrelenting perseverance and resilience.

It is also worth noting (and forever repeating) that from the very first time I met John and Glenys (on December 11, 1993), John’s unexpected, extraordinary, powerful wit, insights, and profound irony were present and in action. This continued on December 18, 1993, when this new and novel physical therapy began. This progressed to the point that, some 16 weeks later, John was now not only engaging in this “boxing and biking” activity, but John also initiated a whole new level of highly sophisticated intellectual wit, irony and mental sparring.

More defensive and classy "poetry in motion" by The Champ.

Source: Photograph Graham Hartley

I vividly remember this one notable situation that became a delightfully discombobulating occurrence. Regarding the complex multi-movement program itself, the “boxing and biking” had only occurred a few times before this specific day. During this now “vivid boxing and biking occasion,” instead of calling a halt to the boxing and biking that was taking place (and had continued without stopping for more than 30 minutes), I specifically asked John if it was okay to stop so we could rest.

This call by me to ask John to stop (before what took place next, on this boxing and biking “vivid day”), had developed into what might be referred to as one of “regular shared joyful banter.” However, on this occasion, John was not only “boxing and biking;” he now extended his supreme world-class boxing and fighting skills to where he mentally and verbally (with profound delightful irony) created this sophisticated conversational confusion.

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And so it began: I asked John if it was okay to stop so that “we could rest.” To this, John immediately replied: “What do you mean we? I’m doing all of the work.” To which I said, “That’s right, John, that’s true, you’re doing all of the work, I was just…” (and before I could continue), John said: “Why are you interrupting me and still gabbing on? [i.e., continually talking]. Let’s get on with it!”

John never missed a moment (not at this time, nor any time before, and most certainly not after this) of bringing complex and sophisticated irony along with his superb, unique “mental and ironic verbal championship ringcraft.” On this particular occasion, the “boxing and biking” had turned into this delightful conversational “fighting and biking” activity.

And so, I tried to continue: “Well, John, what I was also about to say was that I could see you had been working hard for about half an hour, and perhaps it was time we had a rest.

“So, why didn’t you say that?”

“Well, John …” and before I could answer, John continued with his fast and sharp verbal sparring, which was keeping me intellectually and conversationally confounded and off balance.

John was smiling and delightfully continued: “There you go again, always saying ‘well John, well, John,’ and, may I add politely, you never stop talking. So, let’s get on with what we are supposed to be doing!”

I looked at John and began laughing again. I knew there was now only one response. I had to be direct and to the point: “Yes, of course, you are right.”

With this, John responded with a cheeky smile and a twinkle in his eye, saying, “Good response.”

Then there was silence. John did not say anything else. With this silence, I was again caught off guard. I waited a moment, and before I could speak and say the words: “Okay, let’s go,”

John, with another big smile on his face, interceded and said: “There you go, caught out again. Are you ever slow? You had your chance. You gotta be fast on your feet in the fight game.”

Ambrose Palmer in conversation with John Famechon.

Source: Boxing(dot)com - Ragnar Purje PhD Thesis (CQU).

John’s eyes sparkled; he was alert and grinned from ear to ear. He looked and waited, which again made me laugh. John was still smiling as I laughed.

Remembering that it was only some months ago that John was incapacitated (looking as if he had been poured into his chair), his chin on his chest, no muscular tone, and barely able to speak. And here he was, verbally sparring and with great irony and intellectual sophistication, John was verbally “pummelling me from pillar to post.”

So it was, and here we were. John had me laughing. He was watching me like a circling hawk. I looked at John, still laughing and said: “Okay, John, it’s time to start.” There was no response; John was still looking. I waited a moment. Nothing was said. There was only silence. John was grinning. “Yes indeed,” I thought. “Winners are grinners.” This was another great victory for John. Added to this victory (without another word being said), John started pedalling. We were on our way again. The Champ was in charge. Or, as John’s trainer and manager, Ambrose Palmer, would always say, The Champeen!