All That Matters, by Sir Chris Hoy review: 'courage in the face of adversity'

So there he was, a very fit, energetic man, now condemned to die at what, by today's standards, is a ridiculously early age. At first, naturally, Hoy wept a lot, but this book is admirably free from self-pity. He doesn't ask "why me?" The roulette wheel of life has stuck at a bad number, and that's how it is.

An urgent question, though, was what he and his wife Sarra should tell their two young children, and when. It would be a hard question in any family, but it was an urgent one in theirs.

Because Hoy is a public figure, one of the most famous of British Olympians, there was always the possibility that someone would leak the news to the press, and that Callum and his younger sister Chloe would learn of it at school. So Chris and Sarra decided to tell the kids early, even before Chris had started on a course of chemotherapy.

Callum already knew a little of what this would mean. He asked if Daddy would lose all his hair. There isn't actually much, Chris says. Nevertheless, because this idea worries Callum, Chris for the first two rounds of treatment wore the excruciatingly painful frozen cap; an act of love. His chemotherapy sounds like the horrors of Hell; it needs to be a very high dose because the tumours have spread throughout his body.

Frankly, reading his account of his treatment had me thinking there might be much to be said for the old officer-and -gentleman response - a bottle of brandy and a loaded pistol would be preferable. But Hoy says "no" to death, "yes" to life and what can best be made of it still.

The news near the end of the book that Sarra is has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis adds to the family's horrors. They keep going of course. Life is to be lived, not surrendered. 

It's a grim but inspiring story. Hoy would, I think, be the first to say that he and his family have been more fortunate that many. They have a supportive wider family. Chris draws on the example set by an uncle who survived the horrors of a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp and made a good life for himself afterwards, as so many who survived such horrors remarkably did. He also has knowledgeable friends from his Olympic cycling days, people who know what it is to push the body to its limits. But in the end, the example and encouragement of others can go only so far. It is Hoy who is being tested, along with Sarra and the children.

Not all of the book is about his cancer. Hoy also describes how he dealt with the problem that faces all successful athletes and sportspeople: what do you do when you come to the end of a career to which you have given so much, which has also offered such rewards, and you are scarcely in sight of middle-age? Unlike many, he has made a success of what follows. He found new, exciting challenges in motor-racing that offered the challenge and thrills of the velodrome. He made a career in business, too, devising and promoting his own brands of cycling-related gear, and also proved to be a good communicator on TV. He authored a couple of books. So everything seemed set fair, till there was that pain in his shoulder and his discovery of what that meant.

Much of this is the sort of thing you look for in the memoirs of any retired sports star, interesting if you have followed the star's career or have a particular interest in their sport. Here, however, all this is given depth and a deeper meaning by the knowledge of the bad card Hoy drew in the lottery of life. Much is distressing to read, yet this is also a story of courage in the face of adversity, of how you can look disaster in the face and still carry on. It is also about love - married love, parental love, and the love of friends. It is sad but not in any way depressing.

All That Matters, by Sir Chris Hoy, Hodder & Stoughton, £22