Step by step: Andy Murray (right) has overcome extraordinary obstacles in his boxing career

Hidden away in the attic of house number eight on the Árd na Gréine estate in Cavan are a cobweb-covered pair of crutches and a rusted-over wheelchair. Andy Murray had long put them out of his mind, until just after Christmas when a quick visit to his father's turned into an evening of putting away the festive decorations. It was there at the top of a stepladder with a box of baubles under his arm that he caught a glimpse of his past life. And it quickly made him realise just how much he'd achieved.

For two years they were a ball and chain to the present-day Irish and EU lightweight champion. His first boxing coach, Brian McKeown, still remembers him "crawling around the street on his arse and any of the neighbours would tell you he'd be a terror for pulling bandages off his legs". His friends still remember feeling guilty when leaving the safety of the estate and heading out in the countryside where he could never follow. All he remembers is having to get on with a life without properly working legs.

His troubles truly began when he was seven. After an eternity of what were presumed to be severe growing pains, one day his legs collapsed right out from under him. A trip to Cavan Hospital saw him sent further afield to Navan and a few x-rays later he was diagnosed. The doctor told his father he had Perthes Syndrome, a condition caused by a deformity and subsequent weakening of the hip joint. All Murray understood was that he'd be confined to crutches.

"They had the leg tied up to try and make me rest it. They were hoping it would heal itself. But sure the nurse used to come and check up and I'd be down kicking ball. I'd see her car, grab the crutches and go back to the house. But she'd have seen me and would be giving out the whole time. I couldn't sit still and after nearly a year they gave up and plastered up my leg instead and stuck me in the chair."

It was another year before he was finally allowed to move naturally but it was many more before Murray realised how fortunate he'd actually been. When a kid from down the road got Perthes a few years back, Murray went to visit but didn't find what he'd expected. Instead of someone who'd get over the condition and go on to live a normal life just like he had, the child was left with one leg shorter than the other and a permanent limp.

"I was lucky. Everyone has a story and that is mine. I got on with it. But I remember when I first got out of the wheelchair, my Dad was a bit wary of me playing sport so soon so I had to keep the boxing quiet. The odd time my leg got tired because it took a few years to build the strength back up. But it felt good enough to me."

McKeown recalls Murray's first visit to his fledgling club. "He was a tall lad of 11 and came into the gym and he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder and a leg dragging behind him. A very angry young man. He wouldn't have been a kid who'd have turned your head in terms of boxing ability but he was very disciplined and that's got him where he is today."

The journey from there to here… Murray was warned by his doctor that if he boxed he'd be a cripple by 20 yet ignored the advice and lost his first ever contest. He quickly got over it though and went through the bulk of his teens unbeaten. The limitations of Cavan boxing club didn't limit him. McKeown made the most of the locality and had his fighters training "on the streets, in the fields and anywhere we could get a bit of space" while his prize-fighter went on and won three Irish senior titles as an amateur in 2002, '03 and '04.

"At the beginning, because of the legs, I had to work that bit harder just to get fit. So I put my success down to hard work. There is a bit of talent there but that wouldn't have come if I didn't work and my legs forced me to make the most of what I had. My one regret was not making the Olympics. I had my chance in 2004 but my style never suited, I had tough draws and I remember missing out in the last qualifier in Azerbaijan and being stuck there. It was like jail. When I got home I had no plans to wait another four years and I said I'd see how the pro game went."

Initially not well. Despite his weighty reputation, he found his new manager Mickey Helliet treating him like a journeyman. Having moved to St Alban's, some of his fights were on dinner shows, some were Sunday afternoon bouts, all were few and far between. With a pay-day of more than £1,000 never coming, he quickly found himself writing home for money. Moments like that made him realised this path wasn't for him.

"I was promised other stuff too. Training camps in America. Sponsors. Yet I was scraping along. I was losing lots of money. He [Helliet] was ringing me up offering me stupid fights with no notice. I was worried my time was ticking away. It seemed to be for nothing because I was going nowhere. At least if I was at home I'd have been a lot more comfortable. And when my daughter was born in 2007, that made me realise I needed to earn some money."

The story goes that while in England, Murray was offered the chance to fight Amir Khan at two weeks' notice. Little wonder then that he was glad to get home and no longer be seen as meat for the animals. Having signed for Brian Peters he's taken his professional record out to 17-0 and should he get past Oisín Fagan next Saturday night, a European challenge should be waiting within the year. Not that life back here hasn't seen him take some knocks.

Back in September he was due to be the main support on Bernard Dunne's world title defence at a packed Point Depot. It was his gateway into the big time but an awkward punch in training resulted in a shard of pain darting down his neck. "I went for the x-ray and the nurse said I'd broken my collar bone and wouldn't be fighting. I should have been devastated but I recognised the nurse and she recognised me."

Turns out it was the same nurse that plastered up the legs of a lame and limping Cavan boy all those years ago. And having come through all that, nothing was going to stand in his way.

emackenna@tribune.ie