When physio John Butler unlocked the door of a modest rented room in Galway in January 2001, he did so without a grand plan, a marketing budget, or the reassurance of a bank manager’s blessing. The rent was low. The equipment was basic. The future was uncertain. What he did have, though he may not have known it at the time, was resilience forged by hardship, hands trained by instinct and experience, and a belief—shared by a few crucial others—that honest work, done properly, would always find its way.
Twenty-five years on, as John Butler Sports Therapy Clinic marks that quarter century in business, the achievement resonates far beyond longevity alone. To start a business is never easy. To start one during Foot and Mouth disease, to survive the aftershocks of 9/11, the global financial crash, and a pandemic that shut the world down—and to do so while navigating profound personal adversity—places his story firmly in the realm of the extraordinary.
For young entrepreneurs, it is a lesson not in smooth upward curves, but in grit. The origin story is disarmingly simple. Butler spotted a building, walked into an auctioneer’s office, and asked a question. The answer—“It’s for rent”—set everything in motion. That first premises at 180 Bohermore became more than a workplace. It became part of a neighbourhood ecosystem that sustained him in those fragile early years.
Local shopkeepers, publicans, families across the road—people who fed him, encouraged him, and trusted him—formed the quiet scaffolding around a new business finding its footing. He began working with local sports teams, many of whom he already knew from the pitch: Boys’ Club rugby, St Michael’s, Mervue United, Liam Mellows, Annaghdown footballers. When those teams began winning county titles, the word spread—not through advertising, but through conversation.
Galway, like Ireland itself, runs on reputation. Butler understood early that word of mouth could build you or break you. He chose to build.
A native of Birr in Offaly, Butler arrived in Galway almost by accident—drawn initially by a day at the races, then by opportunity, and finally by purpose. From a large family with limited financial means, college was never guaranteed. A small loan from his local credit union made specialist education possible. Faith from an early investor—offered not with fanfare, but trust—helped him take his first steps.
Those early experiences shaped a worldview that still defines the clinic today: if you cannot pay, you talk to your debtors; if you struggle, you face it head-on; if someone places faith in you, you honour it. It is a philosophy that has earned Butler respect across the city and the west, not just as a practitioner, but as a person.
John Butler is unapologetically traditional in an era increasingly obsessed with technology. While the clinic has evolved into a state-of-the-art facility at Liosbán—calm, modern, and almost always in motion—its core philosophy remains rooted in hands-on treatment.
Bodies are bodies. Bones are bones. Injuries are injuries.
Scanning may tell you what is wrong, Butler often says, but it will not fix you. That work happens in the treatment room, through touch, trust, patience, and time. Hour-long appointments are non-negotiable. Relationships matter. Healing, he believes, is as much psychological as physical.
That approach has made the clinic a kind of confessional. Over the years, Butler has heard every story imaginable—injury tales, life worries, fears about careers and families. Confidentiality is absolute. Rapport is sacred.
It is also why elite athletes and everyday clients are treated exactly the same.
Whether you are a jockey riding in a Gold Cup, a county footballer under pressure to start on Sunday, or someone simply trying to keep their body moving without pain, the attention does not change. Maintenance, Butler insists, is not a luxury. It is common sense.
In 2012, John Butler’s career took a decisive turn when he became involved in Irish horseracing—a world defined by extreme physical demands, relentless pressure, and razor-thin margins.
Jockeys live in a space where livelihoods depend on weight, balance, and bodily resilience. The pressure placed on them to be race-fit, dwarfs even that of inter-county sport. Butler’s calm authority, practical honesty, and deep understanding of anatomy quickly earned trust.
His association with the crème de la crème of Irish racing followed naturally. Riders talk. Success travels quietly.
Today, endorsements from figures such as Aidan O’Brien, Dr Adrian McGoldrick of the I.H.R.B., and a host of athletes and medical professionals stand as testament to the clinic’s reputation for excellence, discretion, and results.
Himself and Mary too are thankful to the staff they have had over the years; hardworking, loyal and all contributing to the success of the clinic.
A body shaped by the work
Spend time with John Butler and you notice something else: he looks the part. Chiselled, lean, and fit, his physique has been honed not in mirrors but through decades of working on thousands of bodies. He stretches constantly, trains smartly, uses cryotherapy, and respects his own limits. It is not vanity. It is survival.
Manual therapy is physically demanding. Butler learned early that posture, positioning, and self-care were as essential as technique. Automated tables and modern equipment now ease the load, but discipline remains central.
He no longer plays field sports himself—wisely, he says—but understands deeply why others continue long after they “should.” For many clients, sport is not competition; it is connection, sanity, and community.
When life hits back
Just as the clinic began to grow, life delivered its hardest blow.
A few years into the business, Mary was diagnosed with cancer. They had just moved into their own home. The future collapsed overnight. Chemotherapy, consultants, uncertainty—everything changed.
Running a business under those circumstances became secondary to survival. Appointments were missed. Days ended abruptly. Some clients, understandably, moved elsewhere. Bills still had to be paid.
What sustained them was quiet support: understanding clients, community goodwill, and a refusal to surrender.
Against all medical odds, Mary recovered fully. The couple went on to marry, and later welcomed two children, Sean and Amy —defying science once again.
Mary would eventually join the business, becoming the organisational backbone of the clinic. Today, clients often say, “I’ll ring Mary,” knowing that everything beyond the treatment room is also in safe hands.
The business became a family affair. The children grew up alongside it. Himself and Mary too are thankful to the staff they have had over the years; hardworking, loyal and all contributing to the success of the clinic.
Over 25 years, the clinic has weathered that initial impact of the 2001 Foot and Mouth disease, economic collapse, endless battles with banks, and the chaos of Covid-19. Butler recalls protracted legal wrangling during the purchase of the Liosbán premises—two years of stress, confusion, and cost.
Yet standing today, with his name above the door and no rent to pay, the achievement feels profound.
His late father once offered simple advice when Butler hesitated over the purchase at Liosban: “I’ve never seen a bank in a bad location—and there’s two of them there.”
That pragmatism echoes throughout Butler’s career.
Still standing, still hungry.
At 25 years, John Butler Sports Therapy Clinic is not slowing down. Demand has increased. Prehab, maintenance, women’s sport, post-pandemic health issues, and pregnancy-related care now form major parts of the workload.
The greatest challenge? Staffing. Despite high demand and competitive pay, many newly qualified therapists emigrate. It is a problem Butler finds genuinely worrying.
Still, optimism remains. What excites him is improvement—better facilities, better outcomes, better conversations. He remains driven not by accolades, but by progress.
Looking back over photographs from the past 25 years, John Butler admits the emotion hits hard. Pride mixes with gratitude. Survival feels like an achievement in itself.
For young entrepreneurs, his message is blunt but invaluable: forget the five-year plans. Pay your bills. Face problems head-on. Work hard. Be honest. And when someone places faith in you, earn it every day.
After a quarter century of storms, setbacks, triumphs, and quiet victories, John Butler is still on his feet.
And still working.
