Off Topic An interview with Graham Lee..

It's a place of hope.

Those who spend time in Jack Berry House will talk about the kindness, love and warmth that abound within its now decade-old walls. For regular visitors, it offers comfort and community, recovery and rehabilitation. It is a place where the kettle is never less than hot to the touch, a house by name but a home by nature. It is a place that brings so much to so many. To almost all it brings hope.

True to the laws of supply and demand, hope is at its most valuable when seemingly hardest to find. For Graham Lee, it continues to be a priceless commodity and has been ever since his life, and the lives of those around him, were changed in a Newcastle fall 19 months ago.

The cruel twist of fate has left the former star rider paralysed from the neck down and searching for a reason to believe his tomorrows might be easier than his todays. Jack Berry House and the Injured Jockeys Fund cannot promise him that, nor can they yet wave a magic wand, but they have been the most special of friends to Lee, his wife Becky and their two children. That has been true ever since a rider who scaled lofty peaks over jumps and on the Flat was first rushed to hospital. It is indisputably true now on an afternoon filled with laughter, celebration and thanks.

Ten years have passed since the IJF's patron, the Princess Royal, formally opened an establishment that still looks as fresh and new as on the June day in 2015 when Berry's dream became a reality.

Wander around and you cannot fail to be impressed by the exceptionally lavish gym, an outdoor rehab area, hydrotherapy pool, ice bath, cryotherapy machine, pilates room and respite accommodation. The £3 million centre – a sister to the IJF's Oaksey House in Lambourn, Peter O'Sullevan House in Newmarket and a south-west hub in Taunton – offers so much more besides, not least incredible members of staff who deliver specialist treatment for physical and neurological injuries. To jockeys past and present, plus others in the wider racing family, it has become a vital resource, one more than worthy of the tenth birthday party being staged on a rainy afternoon in North Yorkshire.

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Jack Berry House was filled with people for the centre's tenth anniversary party
At 1pm, the mingling guests are awaiting the arrival of intrepid fundraising cyclists who at 9am began the near-50 mile journey from Berry's house near Bedale to the even bigger house he helped to build in Malton. Among those enjoying the happy atmosphere are Graham and Becky Lee, their son Robbie and Spinal Research chair Tara Howell, who 11 years ago was left paralysed from the chest down after falling from her horse in Helmsley, a few miles from where Jack Berry House was then under construction.

"This is an amazing place run by amazing people," says Lee, who visits the centre every week or fortnight, maintaining his link to the sport in which he completed the unique achievement of riding to victory in the Grand National at Aintree and the Gold Cup at Royal Ascot.

"Racing can be a very lonely place," he continues. "As a jockey, you're permanently hungry, you're doing loads of miles and you have to deal with defeat every day. Racing can be tough but when you get something like what happened to me, it comes together like no other sport. I've been humbled by the support and love I've received. I've been blown away by it, to be honest."

There is complete sincerity in his sentiments, yet the same is true when he paints a brutally stark picture of what has become his daily existence in the time since he was unseated when leaving Newcastle's starting stalls.

"Don't get me wrong, I know there are people worse off than me, but with my injury, every day is groundhog day," says Lee.

"You think, how am I going to get through today? You see no light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how small the tunnel is, you don't see a glimmer, but then Becks found something on Facebook the other day about an operation you can have in China. After Jack read about it, he said, 'It looks like we're going to China, then'. I wouldn't think it will happen but it's a glimmer of light, a little bit of hope."

Given the limitations being endured by a once active sportsman, hope is an irresistible drug.

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Graham Lee, pictured winning the Grand National aboard Amberleigh HouseCredit: John Grossick (racingpost.com/photos)
"I was a very moderate rider who was told, 'You can't and you won't,' but yet I did," says Lee. "I had lots of broken bones and plenty of head injuries along the way but my body always overcame the obstacles. It always healed. This ain't healing.

"That makes me angry at my body, which is probably very unfair because my body is okay, it's just the spinal cord that is broken. I'm angry because in the past my body collapsed but then came back. At the minute, there is no coming back.

"When you're a jockey, you always dream of getting on that one horse who will take you to the next level. My situation is the same. I'm hoping and I'm dreaming. That's what keeps us going. I'm just hoping that somewhere, some day, there will be that glimmer of light."

Howell's hope is that treatment might at some point be available to people like her, Lee and the countless others she fights for in her voluntary role with Spinal Research.

"This area has been chronically underfunded for years because people think injuries are incurable," says Howell. "We want to get across to people that solutions are out there. Scientists are pretty sure they understand how to restore quite a lot of function but there isn't the money to translate that from the lab to people like us because the approval process is incredibly expensive."

There is anger in Howell's voice and in Lee's reaction to her words. It is an anger that fuels her.

"You need a sense of purpose to move forward – and you have to look forward because you can't change what happened," she says, riffing on a theme that is constant to those affected by serious injury. Recovery is as much about the mind as it is the body. Evidence of that comes from Duran Fentiman, who last September suffered double fractures of the tibia and fibula in his left leg when unseated on the way to the start of a race at Pontefract.

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Duran Fentiman: "Before this place, the injury I had might have finished my career"
"Even though I'm a professional sportsman, I'm just someone who is good at riding horses," says Fentiman, his voice just audible over the happy hum of chatting friends. "I used to feel intimidated by the gym and I became embarrassed if people saw me running in the street. The team here made me realise that so long as I'm getting stronger and fitter, that's all that matters. After that, I started to enjoy coming here and getting a routine in my life that hadn't been there.

"I haven't exactly come back with a bang but I can spin things in a positive way and stay motivated. Without these guys, I would have been sulking and moping. I know I'm fit and that when the opportunities come I'll be ready to take them.

"Before this place the injury I had might have finished my career. The people here gave me my hunger back but they didn't do it by forcing me. I've answered my own questions. If you want help, it's here and I've taken it."

Across the room, Fentiman's good friend Barry McHugh tells a similar story when reflecting on his recent comeback from a 20-month injury-enforced absence, during which he underwent a full left hip replacement.

"If it wasn't for the IJF, I would have packed up," says McHugh. "I was in agony because of my hip and every door seemed closed to me. Then the IJF got involved and everything changed. They literally gave me back my career.

"I had a full hip operation in February, which was thanks to the IJF, and I then started coming here only five days after the surgery. The surgeon told me it would be three months before I could do normal everyday things but thanks to the people here, I was riding out after six weeks.

"It's all down to Jack Berry House and the IJF. There is a community here. The physios are also your friends. We are so lucky to have this place."

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Mark Johnston and Richard Fahey are interviewed by John Francome after completing their charity bike ride
Good reasons for that gratitude come thick and fast when IJF chief executive Lisa Hancock delivers a short speech, in which the party's many guests are told that since its birth the centre has provided more than 51,000 face-to-face appointments, 30,000 of them for licensed professional jockeys or longer-term beneficiaries. None of that would have been possible without the IJF and extraordinary people like Berry, the founding father and Hall of Fame inductee who at the age of 87 still makes weekly trips across the moors to visit the house that bears his name.

Not long after the speeches, applause rings out for those who resolved to make the same journey by bike. Among the courageous pedallers are Mark Johnston and a slimmed-down Richard Fahey, who raised a hugely impressive £17,000 and then climbed a lot of hills in elastane shorts. Both trainers have the mickey taken out of them by John Francome, whose fellow former champion jockey Brian Hughes has little time to spare, having somehow managed to fit in 50 miles in cleats on a day when he also has to ride in the last race at Uttoxeter.

"That was horrendous," says Hughes. "It's because of Jack that we have this place and I was visiting Graham when Jack said to me that as I've got a bike I should do this bike ride. He bullied me into it, and I'm glad I did it, but I won't be doing it again. The next time Jack has a good idea, I'm not listening."

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Brian Hughes is congratulated by Jack Berry after cycling almost 50 miles from Berry's home near Bedale to Jack Berry House in Malton
The reality, of course, is that he will listen because when Berry makes a suggestion, people tend to say yes. A fine example of that is trainer Jo Foster, who was encouraged – nay, instructed – by her good friend to make use of Jack Berry House when attempting to recover from the "hellhole" she found herself in after breaking her back in a riding fall.

"If it hadn't been for Jack, I would never have come here – and if I hadn't done that, I might not be here today," says Foster, who had already raised £20,000 for the IJF before her accident.

"I was in such a bad, dark place. I felt like I was in prison and couldn't see a way out. It was too much to bear. Then Jack and my parents brought me here two months after my accident. All of a sudden it was as though a weight had been lifted.

"This place understood. These people understand. They're uplifting, optimistic and positive. The place is great but it's the people who make the difference."

Foster then heads out to have her picture taken with a group of those fabulous folk. Alongside Berry, there is centre manager Jo Russell, physiotherapists and rehabilitators Sophie Phillips, Danny Hague and Catherine Leeson, liaison officers Bev Robinson and Karen Sharpe, and housekeeper Sue Dalton.

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Jack Berry, trainer Jo Foster (fourth from left) and members of the Jack Berry House team, (from left to right) Bev Robinson, Karen Sharpe, Sophie Phillips, Catherine Leeson, Danny Hague, Sue Dalton and Jo Russell
"Sue even washes the jockeys' underpants, for heaven's sake," says Foster, who has previously spoken of how joining one of the IJF's European holidays brought her peace of mind. Among those booked in for this winter's group vacation in Tenerife are the Lees.

"We can't wait," says Becky Lee before laughing and looking at her husband, whose stony facial description indicates he could probably wait an awfully long time.

"It is my worst feckin' nightmare," he says, emphasising each word. "Jeez, I'm only going for Becks," he adds, then making clear that is more than good enough reason.

"It isn't just the injured person who gets taken down, it's everyone around them," points out Howell, prompting more words of praise from Lee.

"I am the luckiest man in the world to have the most amazing wife," he says. "Excuse my language but she is my f***ing rock. In Amy and Robbie, I've got two amazing children who are happy, healthy and make me feel incredibly proud and fortunate. Yes, I have to get Becks to scratch my nose or itch my ear, and I probably do her head in, but I'm so lucky to have her."

Beyond his immediate family, Lee has an army of close friends who have been inexhaustible and unwavering in offering help. Many within that band are people he rode against over jumps and on the Flat. Lee now feels able to watch some of them at work, having abandoned his interest in racing for a long time. Even now, though, he has no desire to remind himself of his own glory days as a jockey.

"I was lucky to have a very good career but, at the end of the day, it means nothing," says Lee. "People say to me, 'Wow, you won the Grand National, you won the Gold Cup.' So what? It means nothing. I would give up every winner I ever rode to walk out of this room. If the TV was switched on and I saw Amberleigh House winning the Grand National or Trip To Paris winning the Gold Cup, it would be like watching a totally different person, even though I know it was me.

"I'll be forever thankful for what racing has given us as a family, but at the minute I can't forgive racing for what it has taken away from me. Maybe that's because it's still raw."

Yet if that seems bleak and black – both of which are entirely understandable – Lee's face positively beamed when the Good Racing Company, which manages charity syndicates affiliated to Lee and the late rugby league legend Rob Burrow, recently reunited him with Trip To Paris.

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Graham Lee was recently reunited with his Gold Cup-winning mount Trip To Paris at an event organised by the Good Racing Company
"I didn't think a horse would make me smile again but he did," says Lee. "Racehorses are incredible animals. If you form a connection with the right horse, they would die for you. It would be wrong of me to fall out with all of them because one horse changed my life."

A few feet away, people are starting to head home, including Sue Hide, the Malton-based widow of Derby-winning jockey Edward Hide.

"If I'm having a dull day, I come here, go in the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee," Hide says. "I come here and I have company; it's homely. You come here and everyone gives you a hug. I know we're northern, and so we're a bit different, but that's still lovely."

Hide, who is northern and lovely, starts every week at Jack Berry House, attending a Monday morning mobility class, three of whose regulars are aged 90.

"I'm 87, so I'm one of the young ones," explains Hide. Like everyone else in the room, she has been delighted to see Lee, who learns from Howell that they are connected by trainer Rebecca Menzies. It was Menzies who discovered Howell in a dip in a field five hours after she fell from her horse, Victor. It was also Menzies who drove Lee's car back from Newcastle, maintaining a connection that began two decades earlier when both worked for trainer Ferdy Murphy.

"They were good days, the best days. It was the happiest I ever was in my riding career," says Lee, recalling a period that was precious because it was shared with some of his closest friends. In his now wholly different situation, those friends remain dear to him. Across the last 19 months, their number has grown.

"The only positive thing to come from this injury is I've met some of the most amazing people on this planet, people I wouldn't have met if this hadn't happened to me," says Lee. "It has shown me that in this world there are many more good people than bad people."

This party, and this house, has been blessed with some of the very best.