The 1am diagnosis in Royal Adelaide Hospital’s Emergency Room hit Ben Williams almost as hard as his motorbike crash 600km away in Flinders Ranges the previous morning.

“Am I going to walk again? How am I going to be able to parent? What’s going to happen to my business?” the player agent to some of the AFL’s biggest superstars told the Herald Sun.

“You’ve got every thought going through your head. That four or five hours were really lonely.”

Williams knew he had busted ribs. He could feel one floating as he was dangerously seated upright in a four-wheel drive for a bumpy one-hour drive to Arkaroola Station.

But a full body scan revealed the 44-year-old sustained life-threatening injuries when he was violently hurled 20m over the handlebars, bounced along the gravel and knocked out cold.

“They said, ‘Well, you were right about the ribs – you have 12 broken ribs, and some of them are broken in multiple places. You’ve also got five broken vertebrae and a punctured lung,” Williams said.

“Then they came back and said, ‘Two of your vertebrae look a bit problematic and we actually want to perform spinal surgery on you’.”

For a split-second the man who dedicates his life to helping stars knew he was about to be seeing stars.

“The two things I remember were going 80kmh, and this washed out four-wheel drive rut appearing from nowhere,” Williams said.

“And I just remembered two words – ‘Oh, f---!’ “I knew that I was just about to have an almighty crash and I couldn’t do anything. So I just remember, ‘Oh, f---!’

“My next memory is not really knowing where I was, but trying to keep my feet as all these people in motorcycle helmets crowded around me going, ‘Oh my God, Ben, Are you OK?’”

Williams’ BMW 850 GS bike was written off. His helmet was such a mess that he chose not to see it.

The five-leg expedition from one of the world’s oldest mountain ranges to Royal Adelaide Hospital started with that drive to Arkaroola Station.

But the closest ambulance was still two hours away from Arkaroola Station. So Williams was put back in the four-wheel drive – this time on a spinal stretcher in the boot – to meet it halfway.

Then, the ambulance transported Williams another 130km along dirt roads covered with pebbles and rocks to Leigh Creek.

The former coalmining town is home to about 250 people and its medical centre – in a mountable shed – was basic at best.

With no plane immediately available, the Royal Flying Doctors flew one in from Port Augusta – the hometown of two of Williams’ clients, Connor Rozee and Kane McAuliffe.

It was 11am when Williams said: “Oh f---” to himself. By the time the plane took off from Leigh Creek for a 90-minute flight the sun had set.

At 10pm he had touched down at a special terminal in Adelaide, where an ambulance was waiting to complete the arduous journey.

Williams pondered his professional vulnerability throughout the day.

He has spent 20 years looking after the lives of his clients. Would he still be able to take care of himself?

“Straight away (I thought) can I be the dad that I want to be? Can I have the life that I’ve had? Can I run my business?” he said.

“The industry is so dynamic in the sense of there’s lots of relationships, you’re on the go, you’re meeting lots of people – it’s a high-energy game.

“And I thought will I be able to do that?”

Williams is the director of Player Ink Sports & Media, which is known for signing the AFL’s big dogs.

The stable has plenty of rockstars and only a couple rookies.

Think Isaac Heeney, Errol Gulden, Mason Redman, Connor Rozee and Jason Horne-Francis ... and two more could be on the way in top draft prospects Sid Draper (who could go No. 1) and Noah Mraz.

When Ben and wife Jade’s close friend Dr Mike Selby, who specialises in spinal conditions, agreed that surgery was the best option his operation was booked for 3pm.

The operation was designed to place a ladder system over Williams’ vertebrae and bolt them in to solidify that area and allow them to heal.

Jade brought their two sons, Harry, 11, and Sol, 12, in to visit Ben before surgery.

“I wanted them to see me being really upbeat and jovial so I could help try to obviously alleviate their worries,” Williams said.

“So I’m making jokes with them and trying to be as normal as possible, albeit in a hospital ward with lots of craziness going on about to have spine surgery where things can go wrong.

“You just want to obviously see them that one more time before you have such a serious operation.”

At 3pm Williams was wheeled in for surgery.

“They knocked me out, rolled me onto my stomach and stopped me breathing for over three hours because they needed me to be absolutely still for them to put in the correct hardware,” Williams said.

“Then they moved me into the spinal ward. I don’t know if they’ve got 12 rooms in there or 14 or whatever, but it’s a brand-new facility.

“But obviously I know I’m in a very serious situation when they’re putting me in there because everyone in there is in an unbelievably serious and critical situation.

“Whereas I’m one of the lucky few who actually get to walk out.

“But they came in and said my lung had taken in too much fluid. All of a sudden there are six medical practitioners in there rolling me on to my left side, putting local anaesthetic in my right armpit and then inserting a needle like one you’d pump up a footy with, with a long, thin hose.

“Once it pierces the skin you can feel the device of this needle and hose being threaded through my right lung. I could feel it moving.

“So you’ve got a thing through your right armpit, a catheter, oxygen tubes and a drip in each arm.

“So you’ve got a lot of devices attached to you and coming out of you, and the only thing they want you to do is rest.

“But they’re coming into your room every hour to check your blood pressure, to check your heart rate, check your oxygen levels and give you painkillers.

“So you’re never really getting to sleep. Eventually when I could go to the toilet, albeit assisted, and I could walk 5m I insisted that they let me out because once you can do that you can go home.

“We pushed the envelope for that to happen really soon.”

Williams’ wife, Jade, texted the four clubs Williams had pressing business with, as well as all of their clients to let them know Ben was in a bad way.

But several clubs reading this story will be unaware of what Williams has been through.

Not many in the footy world batted an eyelid when Sydney re-signed Logan McDonald for four years on July 5. It was just 32 days after the accident.

But the truth was Williams was lying in bed on his phone and laptop doing business with Sydney’s Charlie Gardiner, who was in Rome on a family holiday.

“We probably had another 10-15 per cent (of the contract) to do. At the time Logan had opportunities elsewhere, which he was still weighing up,” Williams said.

Williams spent eight days in the spinal ward. When he got home he was on a cocktail of medicines.

He was taking close to a dozen Endone tablets a day as well as Tramadol (another pain killer) and anti-inflammatory pills because every part of his body was inflamed.

“Jade would have to help me go to the toilet, she’d have to shower me and dry me. It’s funny, you look at your wedding vows and ours were clearly tested over the last seven weeks,” Williams said.

“The hunchback I had at the time, I was probably three inches shorter and just the swelling in your back.

“You look at your profile image in the mirror and the person you’re looking at is not yourself. That’s when you’re thinking these people telling you you’ll make a full recovery have got rocks in their head.”

Jade’s support was extraordinary. When she was shopping or taking the kids to school Williams’ 80-year-old father, Clive, would visit to help.

It changed Williams’ outlook on life.

“You always think you’re a good person, you always work hard and try to support and help those people in your life,” he said.

“But now that you’ve actually received that back, you just never thought that people would think of you in a certain light where they would go out of their way to be so thoughtful and care so much.

“Actions speak louder than words and the actions that we’ve seen have been so heartfelt.

“I’m grateful for everyone I have. Not everything – everyone. I’ve learned it’s not about possessions, it’s about people and relationships.”

Football can be a brutal industry. But it can also be a beautiful one, and Williams wanted to tell his story to thank those who have showered him with love and support.

Before the Swans played the Crows at Adelaide Oval he had Dane Rampe, Hayden McLean, Gulden and Heeney visit for 90 minutes before their game.

Williams was laying at home on a recliner from a disability services organisation.

“You know you’ve got a good relationship with your clients, but when they come in to see you on the day of the game and bring a $200 Haigh chocolate basket, and the day prior Isaac called Jade to arrange for both of our boys to be part of the captain’s run … it’s phenomenal,” Williams said.

“Then three days later Connor Rozee and his fiance, Maisie, came over with their beautiful baby Audrey.

“You’re sitting there at your lowest with a broken back, and you’re holding a client’s baby who you’ve looked after since he was 16.

“A day after that Riley Thilthorpe’s parents come and bring me a Country Road tracksuit. Ben Thilthorpe, Riley’s dad, insists on mowing the lawns.

“We told him a furphy that a lawnmower man was coming the next day because I didn’t want a client’s dad to do that.

“But I wear the tracksuit top nearly every day. It’s nearly been an unofficial uniform of back rehab 101.

“Other parents from Prince Alfred College, where the kids go, set up WhatsApp groups to organise who’s bringing a different meal each day.

“One list manager came over with a couple of bottles of sensational wine — St Henri Shiraz — and he said, ‘When you’re better we’re going to go to a restaurant and enjoy these together’.”

Williams was on an organised tour of Flinders Ranges when the crash occurred on June 3.

He was planning to dash back a day early after receiving a tip that Billy Dowling would be making his debut against Richmond that Thursday night.

“I’ve been riding motorcycles for years and I’ve always thought the best way to travel was on a bike because you’re actually in your environment rather than in a cage like a car,” Williams said.

“It’s nearly like you’re flying. You can smell it, you’ve got the wind on you, you’re just so exposed in your environment, which is one of the great things about it.

“Clearly, it makes you the most vulnerable.”

What were Flinders Ranges like?

“Breathtaking. The gorges, the mountains, the tracks, feeling isolated at all times is a big one as well and you’re just in a really raw, natural environment,” he said.

“It’s the only geographic place in the world that’s gone through every geological change. It’s prehistoric. It’s like around the next corner of the gorge there’s going to be a dinosaur waiting for you.”

It’s two months on from the crash and Williams is now walking 4km a day. The spinal surgeon says he is well ahead of schedule and a lot of bone growth has occurred.

Williams knows he wouldn’t be walking if it wasn’t for the Royal Flying Doctors.

“To come and get me from such a remote place when I was obviously at my most vulnerable says so much about their organisation and the people that work there,” he said.

“Their level of professionalism, thoughtfulness and just their human touch was absolutely phenomenal.

“You never think an organisation like that is going to be part of your life if you live in the city.

“And then I would’ve dealt with 60-70 nurses, doctors and specialists at the RAH.

“If it wasn’t for all of their great work I wouldn’t be back walking and going to my kids’ football games on a weekend, albeit I’m sitting on a deck chair on the other wing.

“They were never a fan of me having the motorbike. The positive from this is there’s absolutely zero chance that either of those kids will ever want a motorbike in their lifetime.”

Will Williams ever get back on a bike?

“I won’t,” he said.

“I’ve seen the stress that it’s caused my family, I’ve seen the pain that I’ve physically gone through, I’ve seen how fragile life is … I don’t need to tempt fate anymore.”