Tom Daley, A Dad’s Deep Dive
In celebration of British Olympic diving star Tom Daley's fifth medal win, revisit his 2021 interview with Mastermind.
Photography by Quentin Saunier
Tom Daley first appeared on the international stage at the 2008 Beijing Olympics: a bright, smiling 14-year-old diver who entered the pool – and the public imagination – with style and grace. In the ensuing years, the public fascination with Daley only intensified. He subsequently won three Olympic bronze medals, before his gold medal triumph in the men’s synchronized 10-meter platform dive at this year’s games. Poolside photos of him calmly knitting led to feverish fandom on social media. And beyond the pool, Daley became an LGBTQ+ trailblazer as one of the few openly queer Olympians.
Daley married the Oscar-winning screen-writer Dustin Lance Black, and in 2018, the pair announced they were expecting a child; despite sometimes cruel treatment by the British press, this cemented Daley as a role model. Ahead of the publication of his second memoir, Daley spoke to us about achieving his childhood dream, society’s insidious homophobia and passing on the lessons of his own father, Robert.
Tell me about writing your memoir, Coming up for Air.
TD I started the whole process back in January. I’ve done previous books, but I was young – I wasn’t even 18. So, I look back and feel like, “What on earth was I doing writing an autobiography as a child?” It feels like therapy when you think about all the things you’ve done, the things you’ve learned. It was nice to look back and see how far I’ve come, from little me in Plymouth to now, living in London and married with a kid.
You’ve been in the public eye since your early teens, and so much has been written about you. Was writing this book a way to reclaim your own story and correct the record?
TD Yes. I am very, very honest throughout – like about struggles in my sport, in terms of how people were direct and to the point with body-image issues, with the way they haven’t necessarily treated myself and Lance in the way they might treat our straight counterparts. That’s the whole thing about memoirs: it’s about being honest and open, letting people know that it’s not just happiness and glory and success. Everyone is a real person and has their own issues.
Your son Robbie was born in 2018. What about him inspires you the most?
TD Just being able to see the world through his eyes is really special. In addition, he helps bring a sense of perspective. In my 20 years of diving, this was the first Olympics where I was like: “You know what? I’m more than just a diver. I’m a father, a husband. I’m a friend.” I don’t define myself by diving anymore because of Robbie. I see things in a completely different way.
Growing up, did you imagine yourself as a father one day? For many gay men, it once seemed like an unattainable future.
TD Yeah, when I was younger, I remember traveling and buying kids’ clothes. When I’d see something cute, I’d be like, “Oh my gosh, this is really cute – let’s buy that for my future children.” I was 16, and that’s not a normal 16-year-old thing to do. When I was coming to terms with my sexuality, that was a big worry for me: not being able to be a father and have children. When I met Lance, within the first week that he came to Plymouth, we went on a bike ride, and we discussed marriage and kids. We even named our son Robbie on that bike ride, which was kind of insane and probably against all rules of dating. But yes, it was my big worry.
Robbie was born via gestational surrogacy. If you could make any changes to the systems that enable LGBTQ+ people to become parents, what would they be?
TD Lots of things. Especially in the States, medical bills, in general, are quite expensive – it’s not accessible for your everyday gay couple. You have to have enough money to be able to afford the medical bills, the insurance, all the legal contracts and that kind of stuff. Our journey was amazing; our relationship with our surrogate was incredible, and the whole process was truly magical. But only people who can afford it are able to have kids via gestational surrogates.
What did you make of the media coverage surrounding the announcement that you’d become a parent?
TD Some of the news outlets in the U.K. are very, very conservative, and they don’t think it’s right that two men should be parents. With surrogacy, you have to really, really, really want a child to go through the process of becoming a same-sex parent. There are so many hoops that you have to go through.
“For some people who are very traditional, it’s difficult to see us raising a child.” Tom Daley
Did becoming a dad reveal anything to you about society’s homophobia ?
TD One of the headlines when we announced it was: “Two dads – this is not the new normal” or something, in the Daily Mail. It was 2018, and we thought it would be a really happy occasion. All of a sudden, the first time Robbie came into existence, we had so many random hate messages. When people actually see us as parents, they understand: “Okay, this makes sense. They’re just normal parents.” But for some people who are very traditional, it’s difficult to see us raising a child.
Your father, Robert, died in 2011, when you were 17. Everything I’ve read paints him as a kind, warm man who prioritized his family and instilled the importance of hard work in his children. What do you remember most about him?
TD One of the biggest lessons I learned from him is that it’s important to not care what other people think. He was the biggest practical joker, and he would say exactly what was on his mind. He would take the mick out of everyone, no matter who they were. He didn’t care what anyone else thought, but he was always kind-spirited.
What values did your father teach you that you hope to pass on to your son
TD There are many. My dad instilled in me that it takes a lot of hard work and that you don’t get anything for nothing. But then also, just the general love and support and not putting pressure on me. If I had bad training sessions or bad days, he knew what to do: just be there and not try and change or adjust anything.
Your mom, Deb, assumed the role of both mother and father. What has she meant to you along your journey?
TD My mom has helped me in so many ways – even just being able to be there as my rock, my support system. Obviously Lance is massively supportive, but my mom was there my whole life. My dad gets a lot of the credit, but my mom was there making sure we had dinner, helping me get to school from training, helping me pack my bags when I was going away to competitions. She was always there in the background. She still, to this day, doesn’t really know what’s going on when she watches the diving competition. She’s just there clapping like, “Oh yeah, that was great,” even if it was terrible, you know.
You mentioned your husband, Dustin Lance Black, whom you’ve been married to for nearly five years. What first attracted you to him?
TD I met him at a mutual friend’s dinner in L.A. I remember walking in and seeing that guy there. Broad shoulders, floppy blond hair, red hoodie, leather jacket. I don’t know what it was, but it was very striking. I remember sitting there, and we started talking, horrible small talk about what goes on in the Olympic Village, how to make an interesting movie, talking and talking and talking. He came to London about eight weeks later, and that’s when we first had that conversation about marriage and kids.
When you first came out, there had never been a LGBTQ+ public figure quite like you. What does visibility mean to you?
When I first came out, I had no idea what I was doing, what this meant and what it might actually do for the community. But now, looking back, I realize there was no one I could look up to when I was younger who was out and actively at the top of their game. So, I just hope young kids [know that] no matter who they are, they can still do really well. It’s a really important message. It’s almost a responsibility for LGBT athletes to be present and open and out because it allows us to be seen, and visibility is key.
You first competed for Great Britain in the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, then again in London, Rio and Tokyo. What did it mean to finally win gold?
TD It’s been my dream since I was a little kid. When I was about nine years old, I had a “medal book”: I used to draw the medals and write what age I was, where it was and what I did in the competition. On the front of that book, I drew a picture of me doing a handstand with the Olympic rings, and it said “London 2012.” So, that was my first dream: to compete at the Olympics and, in particular, the London 2012 games. I was lucky enough to go to my first one in Beijing in 2008 and then went on to London, Rio… At my fourth attempt at the Olympic Games, I managed to win the gold medal that I’d been dreaming about my whole life. It’s one of these things that you think you can do, and you always hope you will, but you never think it’s going to happen to you. So, I was really happy with it, over the moon.
The Tokyo Olympics were delayed a year because of the pandemic. How did you deal with the challenge of maintaining peak competitiveness mentally and physically for an extra year?
TD It was challenging, but in that extra year, I grew so much as a person. It gave me another sense of perspective. You realize what matters most is that your friends and family are healthy and happy because people have been through so much. It was really difficult for lots of athletes to get to that point where you are still able to compete at the highest level without all the worries and distractions of a pandemic.
Like any professional athlete, you’ve faced disappointments along your journey. How do you remain positive?
TD During Rio 2016, I was heartbroken. I thought that was going to be my time. In 2008, my first Olympics, I was a young kid, didn’t really know what was going on and had fun. In 2012, I had the pressure of the home crowd, but at the same time, I knew I had another couple of Olympics in me because I was still young. In 2016, that’s when I felt like I was at my peak and was going to do my best. I didn’t have as much pressure from the outside, but I put so much pressure on myself. The synchro went well; I’d won two Olympic bronze medals by that point, but at the individual, I completely bombed. I thought I had a chance of winning an Olympic gold after winning the prelim, but I bombed out completely. I was heartbroken, but that, in turn, really helped drive me toward 2020. I arrived at this Olympics with a sense of, like: “I’ve worked my ass off. I want to enjoy this and not torture myself and just soak it all up.”
This feature was originally published in Mastermind 10 – buy all issues here.