DIGNITY

“DO PEOPLE REALLY STILL REMEMBER me?” Danny Wallace wonders. Among a growing generation who believe that modern football was invented in 1992 when the Premier League began, the prevailing answer might very well be “no”. More discerning fans will recall a winger who played in the old first division for Southampton at the age of 16, scored on his England debut and, with brothers Rodney and Ray, formed the only trio of siblings in the modern era to play together in the top flight.

What is more, he was an integral part of the team, which lifted the 1990 FA Cup — Sir Alex Ferguson’s crucial first trophy at Manchester United. I ponder all this before telling him: “Yes. A lot of people still remember you Danny.” His eyes well up and a smile crosses his face. “You don’t know how much that means,” he says.

The past 12 years have been tough for Danny Wallace. In 1992 he was 28, but could only look on as many of his Old Trafford team-mates received wealth beyond their dreams after the injection of cash into the Premiership from BSkyB. Injuries were blamed as Wallace faded from view. He didn’t know it, but his body had begun a battle against multiple sclerosis.

“The injuries started down one side of my body,” he recalls. “Then my back started seizing up and I was getting pins and needles. I wasn’t just an injury-prone player — I knew something else was wrong.” Diagnosis did not come until 1995.

“I wasn’t that upset at having MS, but I was devastated at the thought my football career was over. I was 31 and had always imagined playing until I was 35 or 36. I played football from the age of eight and it took a lot of time to accept I would never play again.”

Years of depression and denial followed.Now 40, Wallace walks with the aid of a cane, although there are occasions when he can be confined to his bed for three or four days at a time.

“My walking became so bad that I was falling over cracks in the pavements,” he said. “I avoided going out because I wanted people to remember me how I used to be. I ended up staring at the four walls every day. I didn’t tell people what was wrong. I didn’t want sympathy. Then I decided, that’s it, I’ve got to get out. I had to get my mind working.”

He is now happy to talk about how multiple sclerosis has changed his life and he is making plans. “I have been helping campaigns to highlight the access in football grounds for disabled people,” he says. “There are grounds that are well equipped and other grounds where the access is pretty disgusting. I want to do my bit to help them and also the MS Society. Getting out and speaking to other people about their disabilities really helps me too. I know this will stay with me for the rest of my life, but I now feel like I’m beating it.”

While the drinking and bedroom antics of numerous players has come to dominate the image of professional footballers, it is reassuring to meet someone who is facing personal adversity with dignity and humility.

Playing football was the easy bit. For the rest of his life, he is facing up to a battle of a different kind. Gordon Strachan remarked after the testimonial: “There is a physical and a mental bravery and he is still showing the mental bravery which is the hardest one.” For Danny Wallace, raw courage remains a potent weapon.