Tom Daley looks back: “My parents celebrated the one I was – an Olympian diver or a boy who liked to wear tea towels” | Tom Daley

Born in Plymouth in 1994, Tom Daley is the most decorated diver in Great Britain. He was 13 years old when he marked history as a younger British competitor at the 2008 Olympic Games, and the following year became world champion. He won gold at the Tokyo Olympic Games with his synchronized diving partner, Matty Lee, before retiring from the dive in 2024. He was married to the screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, with whom he has two sons. The documentary, Tom Daley: 1.6 seconds, is available to broadcast on Discovery + from June 1.

I was obsessed With tea towels. I would make sure that the fabric was completely aligned and returned carefully. If it was the least a little ruffled or messy, I got angry and I would tear it away and would try again. It was the beginning of my perfectionism-and perhaps the first signs that I might not be 100% straight.

My mom says that in it, I was very nice but I knew what I wanted. What did I want? To do my best, I could everything I tried. It’s still my mentality today. If I will try something and it doesn’t work perfectly, I have no more anger attacks, but I’m frustrated. It’s the thing to be an athlete: being good is not enough – you must be the best. This is not something you can teach, but each athlete who reaches an Olympic level has the same disc. We know our faults before anyone can report them.

I was seven when I started diving. I loved the water but I found swimming from top to bottom a little boring – the dive was much more fun. I started jumping on the pool side, then tried a meter. The first time I tried the 10-meter platform, I was eight years old. I remember having crawled at the edge because I was too afraid of walking – the board seemed to reduce in size with each step and suddenly looked like a tightrope. I was looking in the water, thinking: “There is no way I could jump that.” But once in the air, there was no return. It was a surreal and euphoric moment – the free fall for 1.6 seconds. As soon as it was over, I knew I wanted to start again.

My childhood was brilliant. I was still outside and we were going for weekends in our caravan in Newquay. I felt very safe, loved and neat. Because I was so satisfied with my family, I hated traveling for competitions – I would have so much pain in the country. It was terrifying to be on the other side of your parents’ planet at the age of 10 – especially when everyone in competition was much older. I cannot imagine how much my parents heard their son cry at the end of the phone.

My father Rob was my biggest cheerleader. He worked all day, came to pick me up at school, would take me to the swimming pool and stay all evening until I finish training. He would be there for each competition. We were a team, and it was our dream together. He was great to teach me the prospect: if I bombed during a contest, he would say: “You came 30th, but you are still the 30th best in the world.”

When dad is dead [of a brain tumour in 2011]I went to training the next morning. I continued in competition without a good break. It may be a British thing, but my family and I are not talking much about his death. It is as if we did not want to disturb anyone, or to make them uncomfortable. I also felt that I had to be the strongest – the person who could support my family. It was only when I met my husband launched, and he asked why I did not talk about my father, that I allowed myself to cry. And it still strikes me now, especially when these major steps occur. I failed to win my first Olympic medal, my marriage, the birth of my first son.

Lance and I met During a dinner in 2013. We talked and talked until we both realized how similar our lives were. He had just lost his brother; I had lost my father. He had just won his Oscar; I had just won an Olympic medal. It was the first time that I could complain about someone who knew I didn’t really complain about success. I complained how to manage what is happening on the other side – pressure and expectations. Knowing that nothing would compare this feeling again.

I met Lance in March and I went out in the media nine months later. I don’t think I would never have said anything about my private life unless I have met someone like Lance. Once we fell in love, I knew I couldn’t keep it secret. It was absolutely terrifying, publishing the video on YouTube, because my management at the time had not been encouraging and told me that I was going to lose my sponsorship. It was a frightening thing to do, but once it was there, I was happy. It took all the pressure. I could be me for the first time.

In 2024I have contributed At the Paris Olympic Games, this time with my trailer sons. Being a dad was always my priority, so I had to deal with a low sleep. I went to bed at 8 am, because I didn’t know how many times I would be in the night. I would wake up early for training, but I would make sure I was at home to help Lance with bedtime. I have always found incredibly difficult to leave them for competitions, and I have led a feeling of guilt with me. My husband is so favorable and he has sacrificed a lot for me. But now I have retired, it’s his moment. It is like: “It’s my turn to put my career on the right track!”

I was athlete For most of my life, it takes time to adapt to my new reality. I am so used to being disciplined that even if I went out for dinner on a Saturday evening, and someone asks me if I want a glass of wine, it takes me a second to realize that I am really allowed to do it. Food is the same. When I was about to go to the 2012 Olympic Games, a coach told me that I needed to lose weight. After that, I had some problems with food disorders. At the time, it was something that men did not really talk about, so I kept it for me and I felt very alone. Once I have been able to obtain appropriate nutritional support and learned more about what my body needed and how to feed it, so my recovery started to take place. But in truth, this feedback still affects me today. I know what I can look like and what I felt in my peak. Now that I do not train six hours a day, six days a week, I will never be in this same form.

When I look at this photo, I think what extent I am innocent. The boy on the photo has no idea what society thinks to be good or bad. I could live and be happy and free. I am so happy that my parents are the kind of people who celebrated who I was; An Olympian diver or a boy who liked to wear tea towels around his waist.