by Daley, Tom
Every week, the diving club used to write a newsletter for its members called ‘The Jubbly’ and after learning the inward one and a half somersaults and inward one and a half piked from 5m, there was a little write-up saying, ‘We think he has been taking brave pills recently. Well done, Thomas, keep up the hard work.’
Mum and Dad received a letter about the Southampton training weekend in September with World Class Start. I was so excited to be going off without my parents. I would be sharing a room with one of the other kids and I thought about diving all day, followed by midnight feasts, with sweets on tap – kiddie heaven!
The reality could not have been more different. While we dived during the day and I was constantly happy, as soon as it came to bedtime, I was engulfed with chronic homesickness. I hated it and from then on in was probably known as ‘the Hell Child’ by all the chaperones. I didn’t want to stay in the room, I could not sleep and I just didn’t want to be there. I used to say stuff like, ‘I’d rather jump out the window than stay here,’ while hanging off the windowsill, and, ‘I’d rather be dead than be on this training camp.’ In the end, they gave into my pleas to ring my parents, who were staying in a nearby hotel after driving me up.
‘We’ll get a toy from Toys R Us when you come back,’ Dad said.
Just stick with it. You’ll be back home on Sunday.’
‘I don’t want a toy, I want a monkey,’
‘We’ll buy it for you tomorrow, if you stay.’
‘I don’t want to stay,’
‘What about a trampoline?’
‘I don’t want to stay … but I do want a monkey and a trampoline.’
I didn’t stay in the end because I was so inconsolable. Eventually, a weary Mum and Dad came to pick me up and I slept on the sofa in their hotel room. But, true to their promise, on our return home they bought me a small aerobics trampoline and the cuddly monkey, which has been my lucky charm ever since. I still take it to every competition I go to. He sits in my bag and I zip it up but let his head pop out so he can see where we are going. I fully expect he’ll be on poolside for the Olympics.
From a diving perspective, the WCS camps were excellent. We learnt all the basic technical aspects such as entries, somersault programmes, hurdle steps, warm-ups and twisting. As well as the World Class Start coach Dan Harrison, there was a Chinese director, Cheng Yang, who helped us with our technique. They also tried to make it fun, with talent contests in the evening, where we were scored by the coaches, all-round training like ballet lessons to help us strengthen our muscles, and visits to outdoor pursuits centres, where we would go abseiling and climbing, to help build our confidence.
I was progressing through the groups at Central Park very quickly and soon I was training three times a week with Sam. I also started doing an extra two-hour session of dry-land training, where I did body conditioning, practised moves on a trampoline and developed my skills on the dry board, where you land in a crash mat. The constant impact on your body of diving into water can take its toll, so training on dry land reduces the stress on your joints. It also isolates specific skills so you can practise and perfect each move on its own, before putting it together into a dive. I also worked with small weights to help tone up and strengthen certain body areas.
Later, when a squash court was converted at the Mayflower Centre for us to use as our dry-land training area, I learned new dives in a rig where you are strapped in and can rotate and twist in the air while ‘the rigger’ allows you to go as fast or slow as you need. You need a certain amount of speed to tip the somersaults and it’s good to do them as fast as possible so it is as close to how it is when you are doing the dive in the pool. This kind of work now takes up 60 per cent of my training time, so it was vital to start learning when I was young.
Sam knew what made me tick and could read my mood and she knew when to put pressure on me, and when to leave me alone to just get on with it. Learning new dives made me really chirpy, and the higher up the platforms I got, the more inspired I became.
OFTEN I WAS HESITANT BUT SAM SOON LEARNED, WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR ME TO LEARN A NEW DIVE, NOT TO JUST SPRING IT ON ME AT THE BEGINNING OF A SESSION BECAUSE I HATED THE SURPRISE ELEMENT.
She would give me three days’ notice and tell me we would be practising it during our next meeting. I seemed to accept that; I just needed to get my head around it.
I was finding that I was mastering new dives very quickly. I remember one week when I picked up a forward two and a half somersaults with tuck and a back one and a half somersaults with one and a half twists, both from 3m. I could not practise enough; I was totally single-minded.
Going International
As my learning curve went vertical, I started to train more and more. In September 2003, I moved up to B Squad, where I trained on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6.30 p.m. to 7.30 p.m. in the gym and then from 7.30 p.m. to 8.30 p.m. in the pool. On Fridays I also trained from 4.15 p.m. to 5.45 p.m. in the pool and on Saturdays I had a dry-land session from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. at Swallows, a gym nearby.
That month, I had another competition away from home – an invitational event in Southampton. I was homesick and cried every night but this time my parents were back in Plymouth and were not allowed to come down to see me. The managers had to be strict because it would be unfair to the other children if they made special allowances for me. I would sob down the phone, ‘Come and get me, come and get me’, but they just tried to talk me round. Poor Mum, sometimes I rang her ten or fifteen times a night. She always told me if I wanted to be part of the team, I needed to stick with them and that I would fall asleep if I tried. Eventually, of course, I would always drop off and wake up raring to go the next day.
Over that weekend, I picked up the gold in the 1m and 3m springboards and platform events. During these competitions away I always wanted to learn more and, when the rest of the team were given the option of returning to the hotel, I always wanted to stay and watch the other teams diving to absorb as much as I possibly could. Both Sam and Andy said I was like a sponge.
Later that month I started to perfect the front two and a half somersaults from 5m and a front two and a half somersaults piked from 3m.
At my next competition I had wins on the 1m, 3m and 5m platforms. On the 5m I scored 150.55 and the next competitor’s score was 78.25 – so I was a long way ahead of my contemporaries. My enthusiasm was fired up even more and I relished the competitive element and the feeling of adrenalin when I stood with my feet touching the end of the diving board and everyone was silent, waiting for me to go. Rather than putting me off, the pressure just seemed to drive me on. I was awarded three shiny new medals and that week’s ‘Jubbly’ said ‘There seems to be no stopping him at the moment!’
I WAS LEARNING THAT, AS WELL AS THE PHYSICAL CHALLENGES, THERE ARE HUGE MENTAL HURDLES TO OVERCOME. ASIDE FROM THE ELEMENT OF FEAR, YOU HAVE SIX DIVES IN EVERY EVENT, SO IF YOU DO ONE BADLY, YOU HAVE TO PICK YOURSELF UP, FORGET ABOUT IT AND MOVE ON. IF YOU LET ONE BAD DIVE AFFECT THE REST OF THE COMPETITION THEN YOU HAVE LOST. YOU NEED TO BE MENTALLY TOUGH.
Sometimes if I did a bad dive when I was younger, I would scream, burst into tears and run off, knocking into anything, or anyone, who stood in my path. One day, at an Armada Cup competition, I was doing dives from the 1m springboard. During one I was doing the hurdle step and my knees gave way – I was trying to spin round but I hadn’t got any height, so landed on my bum and got a failed dive. I stormed off poolside in a massive strop and sat in the fire exit, crying. In the end, one of the other divers, Claire Wonnacott, and my first weights coach – who we nicknamed Beef because he is a vegetarian – talked me round and I went back to the competition and came fourth in the end.
Andy had started coaching me by then because Sam had decided that she could not manage all the travelling and leaving her young baby at home. I remembered feeling disappointed when Sam announced that she would not be my coach any more, but we always saw her at the pool before she moved to Australia a
couple of years later.
Andy taught me a new technique to deal with my nerves and the stress of competitions. He told me: ‘Focus on happy thoughts like Peter Pan, so you can fly.’ I slowly started to recognize bad feelings in the pit of my stomach, and would walk away and have a shower or a swim and come back thinking differently, otherwise I would be in a downward spiral. In competitions he could often tell if my concentration was going because I was worrying about what other people were doing – and he would tell me to start thinking about my next dive, focus on ‘happy thoughts’ and to ignore what everyone else was doing. After all, I could only control my own performance. That mentality is key to doing well. Dad always used to tell me never to compare myself to anyone else. Diving is not the sort of sport where you can liken yourself to someone else; you can only be in charge of your own dives.
In June I went to the National Championships in Southampton. Plymouth and Southampton were two of only seven 10m platforms in the country and, at the time, Southampton was considered one of the best facilities. I was starting to become unbeaten in my age group and I know now that they sent me to see how I would cope with the mental pressure of not winning. Everyone was expecting me to fail.
However, off I went and the nerves and tears never took hold, despite the fact that, while I had just turned ten, most of the divers I was up against were adults as old as thirty. On the first day was the 3m springboard and I came third in the under-18s and eighth in the senior competition. Dad was sobbing – he always cried when I did well. I always used to be a bit embarrassed, but now I think it’s great he didn’t care what anyone else thought. It just showed how proud he was of me. Mum is more the strong, silent type. I know that deep down she found it quite scary when I was up on the 10m board and was still so small.
FOR MY TENTH BIRTHDAY, IN MAY 2004, MUM AND DAD GOT ME A MASSIVE TRAMPOLINE TO GO IN THE GARDEN. I COULD ALWAYS PRACTISE THE SOMERSAULTS AND TWISTS I NEEDED FOR MY DIVING.
‘I’ve got a bronze and it’s not even my best board! I’m going to get a gold in platform,’ I told Dad.
In the platform event the next day, I performed better than I ever had before. For this you can dive off 5m, 7m or 10m, but you are not supposed to dive off the top board until you are fourteen or fifteen. Looking back, they were really simple dives – a front two and a half piked off 7m, an inward two and a half somersaults with tuck off 7m, a back one and a half somersaults with tuck off 5m, a reverse one and a half piked off 1m and a back half off 7m. I finished my list with a simple armstand somersault.
I was learning fast about the importance of the list being right – lots of people had lists with higher tariffs but they didn’t execute their dives as well. I was awarded a bronze in the senior competition and I became the youngest ever under-18 winner. I was also 50 points over the score needed by a twelve-year-old to qualify for the Junior Olympic Programme – but was still two years too young to qualify. I was delighted. Standing on the podium to collect my medal, I looked really funny – this tiny, skinny child next to the teenage gold and silver winners. I felt like a dwarf but after a while got used to the other competitors towering above me.
I also won the synchro, where I was partnered with another Plymouth diver, called Kyle Prior. We didn’t train together at synchro when we were that age. The 1m boards at the Mayflower Centre are on the opposite ends of the pool, so we could not practise properly even if we wanted to. We just turned up and did it on the day. I loved the adventure and knew I would go back to my diving lessons more motivated than ever.
On the way home in the car, I kept asking Dad, ‘When do you think I’ll be in the Herald? I want to be in the paper!’
My wish was granted. The next day a small article appeared in our local paper with the headline, ‘Diving Prodigy Daley is Youngest Ever UK Champion’. Mum showed it to me and I loved the thought that other people would be reading about me.
‘MAYBE ONE DAY I’LL BE IN A NATIONAL NEWSPAPER,’ I TOLD MY PARENTS. BUT THEY HAD NO IDEA WHAT LAY AHEAD AND KNEW NOTHING ABOUT ELITE COMPETITION, OR THAT THERE COULD BE A ROUTE FOR ME TO THE TOP OF THE SPORT.
Mum and Dad bought two copies of the local paper, one to laminate and an original and filed them away in the special file. Dad meticulously kept every single thing that was ever written about me in every newspaper and magazine, painstakingly filing and laminating and filing and laminating. We now have a whole garage filled with files.
We were at Watergate Bay when the 2004 Athens Olympics was on. I sat on the small sofa in our caravan and watched Leon Taylor and Pete Waterfield diving on the tiny portable TV set which we brought with us. We had to put the aerial on a broom handle so we could get some reception.
I was like a proper geek – I just sat there on my own as they jumped together in the synchro event, ripping their entries. I was particularly elated because when I had been in Southampton I had met Pete and asked him for his autograph. He signed my chamois with a marker pen.
PROUDLY WAVING MY GB FLAG WHILE THE 2004 OLYMPICS WERE ON – I WAS OBSESSED WITH THE DIVING.
Me and Peter Waterfield at the Southampton invitational age: 10 2004
Me and Chris Mears on the Podium at the Southampton invitational age: 10 2004
Me, Max, Chris and Kyle on the Podium for the boys group C platform event (me guest) Won! age: 10 2004
When we won a silver medal, I couldn’t run fast enough to the clubhouse where my parents were, and drag them back to watch the medal ceremony and interviews afterwards. Watching the team grinning from ear to ear on the podium with the wreaths on their heads and medals round their necks, I was filled with enthusiasm thinking that one day maybe I could represent our country like they had.
And the Olympics, it seems, could be within my reach, because that October I was invited by Kim White to attend a Junior Olympic Programme camp in Southampton. I remember being a year younger than everyone else there and thinking it was cool to be with older people. Andy came to train me because two other Plymouth divers, Tonia Couch and Brooke Graddon, were also taking part. I went along and, much like the World Class Start camps, delighted in the diving, just not the being away from home and so, of course, there was the nightly round of pre-bed tears.
But my diving was still going from strength to strength and by the end of 2004 I was only beaten once in my age group and unbeaten for nine months.
I WAS WORKING HARDER THAN EVER BY THEN, TRAINING THREE HOURS A DAY, SIX DAYS A WEEK.
My frustration when my dives weren’t perfect really drove me on. I was often tired in the morning and struggled to get up, but once I was out and throwing myself in the pool I was full of energy. Sometimes I was given the day off training after a meet, but would just turn up anyway after asking Dad to take me, hoping someone could give me some pointers. It felt like there was a fire burning in my belly.
Grandma Rose and Granddad Dink started to take me to training on a Wednesday night to give Dad a break but after a while he just used to come along and watch anyway.
He could not stay away! When I got a bit older we started going for a curry afterwards and have done that every Wednesday I have been at home since. I always look forward to it.
My first international competition was in Aachen, Germany, in April 2005. I was given special dispensation by the German Swimming Federation to compete – Kim White, the Junior Olympic Programme manager, persuaded them, even though the rules state that anyone born later than 1992 should be prevented from entering. Despite my win at the Nationals, the coaches really felt it would be a chance for me to see how it was to lose and to see how I would cope with it.
A few days before, there was a delivery at the door and it was my GB kit. I ripped open the package, which had a tracksuit, T-shirts, shorts, a hat and drinks bottle. It was a really proud moment and I know Mum and Dad felt the same. I loved it. Now when I get new kit through it goes straight in the washing machine, but then I tried on every single item of clothing to make sure it fitted and walked up and down to see if it was
comfortable. I wore it all to training at the first possible opportunity. That’s when my fascination with GB flags really started. I made my dad try for ages to find a pair of trunks with a Union Jack on them and now my room is full of Union Jack paraphenalia.
While I flew over with the rest of the team a few days before the competition for a training camp, Mum and Dad made the long drive in the car with my Grandma Rose. Despite my homesickness, the governing body was responsible for my welfare and I didn’t stay in the same hotel as Mum and Dad. While I am at competitions, I am in the care of British Swimming. It felt strange at first but now I am used to it. I spoke to them really regularly on the phone and felt comforted by the fact they were in a hotel nearby. Dad kept saying to me that I was on the international circuit now and even if I came last I would have done amazingly well. Speaking to him always made me feel like whatever happened it would not matter, and however I did, it would always be good enough.
The facilities, which included a state-of-the-art dry-land area right on the poolside, were incredible. As the event started, I was in awe of the other divers, who all seemed to be ripping their dives. There were team coaches from all the countries and a much bigger and noisier crowd, different groups of people with every team and lots of foreign voices. There was a real buzz in the air and the whole building was filled with excitement and anticipation. My first event was the 3m springboard. I had a hard list for my age and felt nervous. I had butterflies and my heart was hammering but as I stood, poised to take my dives, I remembered what Sam and Andy said, that I should try and turn my nerves into energy. I reminded myself that if I thought happy thoughts I would fly.