by Daley, Tom
Not long after we started diving, Mum and Dad bought a caravan and we used to motor across to Watergate Bay in Newquay most weekends. We spent our days on our bikes, swimming, playing cricket or tennis, or at the clubhouse where they had kids’ clubs running every day to keep us all entertained. I loved karaoke and Dad told me that he thought singing in front of an audience would help with the nerves when I was diving, so we would go to the clubhouse and I would belt out S Club 7’s ‘Reach for the Stars’. It obviously worked, because at my Aunty Marie’s wedding I dressed up as Elvis in a mini white and gold jumpsuit and sang one of his classics, ‘Don’t be Cruel’.
Around then I was watching Blue Peter when they said they were looking for people to audition for this new band, S Club Juniors, based on the adult version, only for kids. I made Dad video my audition on a camcorder in the front room. It was really funny. I was getting really stressed out because I could not hear the music but Dad kept telling me that they needed to hear my voice. In the end, the video was of me singing, while also listening to the music through my earphones and doing an accompanying dance. I waited for a letter telling me I had the job but I never heard back from anyone. I hope the BBC never dig up that tape!
In December 2001 I got my first diving certificate, called Preliminary, for doing various dives off poolside, including forward and back dives, and floating in the tuck position in the pool. Forward dives always felt quite natural, but when I started to learn back dives for the first time, my instinct was to keep looking over my shoulder. It felt strange not being able to see where I was going; it’s like diving blind. The same day I got my Level 1 award for another list of moves like jumping off the side without swinging my arms and a forward tuck roll in the water.
I would look forward to every Saturday morning, when I would eagerly rush out of the changing rooms straight to the diving area to learn something new and, as the year progressed, I worked my way through the levels, which gradually introduced different, more complicated moves. Each time I got a colourful certificate to add to my collection, Dad would take it and laminate it in a special file he had created to keep everything together.
During the summer of 2002, the Commonwealth Games were on the TV. I was eight years old. My family and I watched the competition from our front room and I made sure we were recording it too. There would always be a race for the remote – if William or Ben got hold of it, I would never stand a chance.
I became obsessed and watched the videos of the British divers Pete Waterfield and Leon Taylor and the Canadian diver Alexandre Despatie diving over and over and over again, until Mum and Dad got really annoyed that they could not watch their programmes. I was fascinated by the way they somersaulted through the air so seamlessly. It was as if it didn’t take any effort at all to jump off the platform, spin around and hit the water with barely a splash. I kept thinking that I wanted to be able to do that and to execute the dives that they were doing. I learnt that Alex had won the 1998 Commonwealth Games gold medal on the 10m platform when he was just thirteen. He was my new hero.
Throughout the competition, the commentators kept mentioning the Olympics. I had never heard of them and asked Dad what they were.
‘It’s the biggest sporting event on the planet,’ he told me.
‘It’s the biggest competition you could ever do.’
‘Ah right,’ I said, mulling it over. ‘Wow. That sounds amazing.’
‘The next one is in Athens in 2004, then it’s in Beijing in 2008,’ Dad said. ‘There is some talk that London will bid again to host the event in 2012.’
I went upstairs and started researching it on the Internet. We had a computer on the landing that we all used to share and I found a picture of the flag. Dad came upstairs and sat by me, explaining that every country in the world had at least one colour from the Olympic rings in it and that the interlocking circles signified the continents coming together. I looked at all the different sports that there were from countries I had never even heard of.
I drew a picture. In between two sets of blue, yellow, black, green and red rings is a sausage man in a pair of Union Jack Speedos with spiky hair and big eyes doing a handstand at the Olympics in London 2012. Above are the words ‘My Ambition’ in bubble writing. It was my dream then, and still is now, to perform the best dives of my life there – to dive out of my socks.
I drew the picture imagining myself standing on the rostrum in London with my gold medal heavy around my neck.
Mastering the Basics
My first competition was in March 2003. William had dropped out by then, because he was bored and wanted to concentrate on football and rugby at the weekends instead. Everyone in the diving club at the Central Park Pool was invited and the spectator area was filled with parents clapping and cheering on their kids. After doing a forward dive off poolside and a tuck dive off the 1m springboard, I was given a small silver trophy. All I could think was, ‘Oh my god! I’ve been given a trophy,’ and I wanted to do the competition again. I put it in pride of place on the shelf in my bedroom.
After my win, I was put into the competitive squad. Our group was called the Weenies because we were the most junior divers and my coach was a woman called Sam Grevett. She was the scary one that everyone was terrified of. Andy Banks, who trains me now, was the other Head Coach and he and Sam ran the business together. We were still only training once a week but Sam taught me the basics of good technique and about discipline and attention to detail. She showed me how important it is to master the basic dive before you move on to the harder version.
I TOOK THIS PHOTO OF ANDY BANKS, MY COACH. HE ALWAYS TELLS ME ‘THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS LUCK, JUST GOOD PREPARATION.’
We learnt about the fundamentals of competitions. Springboard dives are arranged into five groups: forward, where the diver faces forwards and rotates forwards; back, where the diver faces backwards and rotates backwards; reverse group, where the diver faces forwards and rotates backwards towards the board; inward, where the diver faces backwards and rotates forwards towards the board; and twist, where the diver performs a dive from any of the above group, but at the same time, they twist their body about a longitudinal axis. The sixth group, added for the platform competition, is the armstand group, where the diver is on their hands facing the board with their back to the water and rotates over to somersault forwards, or cuts through their hands to rotate in a reverse direction Alternatively, a diver can be on their hands facing the water with their back to the board and rotating backwards.
Most dives in these groups can be performed in any one of three positions: straight, where the body and legs are straight with no bending at the hips or knees; piked, with the body bent at hips, legs straight without bending at the knees; and tucked, when the body is bunched up close to the knees, bent at the hips and knees, with elbows in, hands clasping the shins.
Competitions are conducted by a referee, five judges, two recorders, a computer operator and an announcer. After each dive, the referee signals to the judges, who input their scores into the computer pad or flash scorecards. The points scored can range from 0 to 10. The judge will consider the approach or starting position, takeoff, flight and entry of the dive, and then post an award having looked at the dive as a whole. Judges do not take the difficulty of the dive into consideration.
The recorders copy down the judges’ scores and deduct the highest and lowest mark. They then multiply the remaining three awards by the tariff (degree of difficulty) of the dive.
EACH DIVE IS AFFORDED A TARIFF. THIS RANGES FROM 1.2 UP TO 4.7 FOR THE MORE COMPLICATED DIVES. THIS MEANS THAT THE DIVER WHO CAN COMPETENTLY PERFORM HIGHERTARIFF DIVES CAN OFTEN HAVE THE ADVANTAGE OVER THE ONE WITH EASIER DIVES. HOWEVER, THIS IS ONLY THE CASE IF THE DIVER PERFORMS THE MORE DIFFICULT DIVE WELL.
For example:
A back dive from 1m has a tariff of 1.5
If the dive scores 5s from all judges = 15 points
15 × 1.5 = 22.50 in total
A reverse dive tucked from 1m has a tariff
of 1.6
If the dive scores 5s from all the judges = 15 points
15 × 1.6 = 24.00 in total
However, if the back dive scores 5.5s from all the judges = 16.50 points
16.5 × 1.5 = 24.75 in total
If the reverse dive scores 4.5s from all judges = 13.50 points
13.5 × 1.6 = 21.60 in total
Each dive is also given a number code, so it can be explained quickly. For example, a forward three and a half somersaults in a tuck position (107c) carries a tariff of 2.8.
There are various penalties. The most common are: a failed dive where the amount of rotation or twist is not within 90 degrees of the pre-declared amount and the diver receives no points; the restart – if a diver stops or pauses after starting, or if, when performing an armstand dive, the diver’s feet return to touch the board, the diver will restart and have two points deducted from the overall score; if the diver shows a flight position other than the one declared in advance, the judges will be instructed to award no more than two points for the dive. Finally, on entering the water headfirst divers must have their arms positioned beyond their heads so their hands strike the water first, and for foot-first entries they must have their arms held by their sides. Failure to observe these arm positions on entry into the water will result in the referee instructing judges to award no more than four and a half points for the dive.
I also learned that the judges are looking for lots of things: a good, smooth approach; the takeoff needs to show control and balance and a good angle; elevation; a good execution – with a clean technique and form. The most important part is the entry because that’s the thing the judges see last so it’s normally what they remember. It needs to be near vertical, with the smallest amount of splash possible. However, since judges must give their scores instantaneously, they base their scores more on a gut instinct and overall impression rather than actual calculation.
When we started talking about competitions I got this bubble of excitement in my belly, I could not wait to start. I also started to get nervous, hoping that I could perform the dives I had been doing really well in training sessions at the competitions. Most of all, I could not wait to get more trophies. They would always be sat glistening on the side of the pool and I wanted to fill my shelf at home with as many as I could.
I started doing my certificates off the 1m springboard – from forward jumps to learning special hurdle steps to give you height and spring off the board. I had a real lightning bolt moment when I learnt a forward double somersault from 1m.
After I came out of the water I was so shocked at how easy I found it to perform something that no one else in my group could do. It felt strange that I was routinely landing the right way up when everyone else in the group wasn’t able to. I think, for me, it signalled the start of my belief in my ability – it was like a switch had been flicked.
Another day I saw Sam’s eyes light up was when I started to learn to twist – a very simple move, just one backward somersault with half a twist, but Sam had been very specific with me about where my arms should be throughout the skill and, on this particular occasion, she stood next to me and asked me to show her where my arms should be and, then, where mine had been. I was able to relay to her exactly where my arms had been throughout different phases of the dive. When my left arm was doing something different to the right arm while my body was somersaulting and twisting, I could show her exactly what my arms had done. She told me that it was a special skill to have an innate internal compass that would enable me to ‘feel’ where I was during multiple somersaulting and twisting dives. She said that it’s not something she can teach and only a tiny few are lucky enough to be born with it. I always knew where I was and could see where I was, meaning that I was already far more consistent than most of my peers.
THE GUT-WRENCHING FEAR OF TRYING NEW DIVES OR HURTING MYSELF, PARTICULARLY WHACKING MY HEAD, WAS ALWAYS THERE. BY THAT POINT, I HAD HIT MY HEAD TWICE.
The first time it was after a swimming lesson and I was doing some dives off the poolside. I jumped and clipped my head on the stone side on the way in. As weird as it sounds, I didn’t realize what I had done, and got out to jump in again. It was when I climbed out of the pool for the second time that everything was a blur in front of me. People started walking up to me with concerned looks on their faces, asking if I was OK. I turned round and there was a puddle of crimson red in the pool, like there had been a shark attack. I touched my hand against my forehead and as I took it away I saw the blood. Mum rushed me to hospital but I made such a fuss about having proper stitches because I was so terrified. I didn’t want the doctors anywhere near me. In the end they gave me paper ones – or ‘origami’ as Dad called them – and I still have a scar today. I wish I had had stitches. You can’t really see it normally but when I catch the sun it goes a different colour.
A few months after that we were on holiday in Spain and I was messing around in the pool with Dad and my brothers. I was doing backward somersaults off the poolside and there was a shallow ledge before the water dropped down and I cracked the top of my head on the way in because I didn’t jump out far enough. That time I knew exactly what I had done; it felt like an iron weight had smashed me around the head. Mum and Dad rushed me in my little brother Ben’s pushchair to the Medical Centre nearby, where I had loads of stitches. I remember crying a lot because it was so painful. It didn’t deter me though – I loved every second of my diving and my desire to be a good diver would ultimately prove to be greater than my fear.
A month off my ninth birthday, in April 2003, I was entered into the National Novice competition, which Plymouth Diving were hosting. There were thirty divers of my age in my group. There was never any pressure, it was just fun.
Dad kept saying, ‘Even if you come last Tom, it means you are thirtieth best in the UK for your age.’
‘THIRTIETH BEST IN THE UK! THAT’S AMAZING,’ I WOULD THINK, AND NOT WORRY. MUM AND DAD’S ATTITUDE WAS ALWAYS TO DO WHAT YOU LOVED BUT AS SOON AS YOU STOPPED LOVING IT TO STOP. I HAVE ALWAYS HELD THIS PHILOSOPHY BUT AM PASSIONATE ABOUT MY SPORT.
At that time, I never realized I could have a career in diving but, like now, I had good days and bad days. On the rubbish days, when I’m frustrated, I think, ‘I’ve had enough, that’s it.’ But as soon as I step away, I know I could never give it up. I love it too much.
I came away from the National Novices with a silver medal and 103.80 points for my six dives off the 1m and 3m springboards. I was so chuffed and could not stop smiling.
Afterwards an Australian lady came up to me on the poolside.
‘Well done. Can we borrow you for a second?’ she asked. I didn’t know who she was or what she did at that point. She started measuring how long my legs were compared to my upper body and the length of my arms. She asked me to do a tuck jump and then sit on the floor and do a pike shape to test my flexibility. Then, after I had changed, I did a sprint test to see how quickly I could accelerate over thirty metres.
The lady’s name was Chelsea Warr and she ran a National Lotteryfunded programme for divers across the country, called World Class Start, in which they coached a group of young people they thought could be capable of achieving international success in diving. She explained that they ran nine weekend training camps a year where they had access to the best coaches and a full team of sports scientists for nutrition, psychology, physiology and physiotherapy.
‘I’ll be in touch in a couple of months,’ she said. ‘There’s a training camp in Southampton and we’d love you to come along.’
That’s when my diving took off. Every Saturday I’d be standing at the door at home hurrying Dad along so we weren’t late for training. When I got into the pool, Sam would push me hard. I was very nervous and sometimes stood at the end of the board and refused to dive but she would not let me get away with it.
‘You can’t be a diver if you don’t do this dive. This is one of the dives you need to be able to do,’ she would yell after I refus
ed to jump.
I battled with my nerves and often I didn’t want to learn new dives, but she kept shouting until I did them. Doing inward dives for the first time was scary because you take off with your back to the water and rotate towards the board, so you have to jump far enough away to be clear of it when you start somersaulting and you can always see it in front of you, which is terrifying. Reverse dives feel equally strange because you rotate backwards and the platform always seems really close to your face.
Some days, after refusing to learn a new dive, I would get out of the pool, shower and change and go out to the car. Then, just as Dad was turning on the ignition, I would regret not doing the dive Sam had asked me to do, feel a bit stupid and would head back to the changing room, put my trunks back on and go back out and do the dive.
One Saturday, during one of my sessions I was meant to be learning a new reverse dive. I didn’t know it then but Sam had asked Andy Banks to come and watch me. I stood at the back of the board and refused to jump. I hid behind the 3m pillar, told Sam I didn’t want to do it and then promptly burst into tears. The thought of jumping off the board and spinning backwards was horrible.
ANDY TOLD SAM, ‘THAT KID WILL NEVER BE A DIVER AS LONG AS HE HAS A HOLE IN HIS ARSE.’ I GUESS HE JUST THOUGHT I WAS TOO MUCH OF A WIMP. WE LAUGH ABOUT THAT NOW!
I did eventually do the dive the following week and, rather than feeling scared, it felt great, like I had accomplished something massive. I knew I needed to trust Sam and from there my learning curve went vertical as I started to do more and more dives off the higher platforms.
By July, I was learning dives off the 5m platform, which felt incredibly high. Looking over the edge, the pool seemed so much smaller than it did from 3m. I used this technique where I just made myself jump because once my feet had left the board, I could not get back onto it, even if I wanted to. So I would force myself to leap and would just have to try to do the dive that I was learning while I waited to hit the water. It worked.