In at the Deep End

  In at the Deep End

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2009

  ISBN 9781908520059

  Copyright © David Davies 2009

  The right of David Davies to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, The Old School, Upper High St, Bedlinog, Mid-Glamorgan, CF46 6RY.

  The Quick Reads project in Wales is a joint venture between Basic Skills Cymru and the Welsh Books Council. Titles are funded through Basic Skills Cymru as part of the National Basic Skills Strategy for Wales on behalf of the Welsh Assembly Government.

  Printed and bound in the UK

  Cover design by Red Dot Design

  In at the Deep End:

  From Barry to Beijing

  David Davies

  ACCENT PRESS LTD

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Foreword

  “David Davies. Remember the name.”

  These words, spoken by BBC Radio and Television presenter John Inverdale, have stuck in my mind ever since he made the comment at the Commonwealth Games in 2002. That was the occasion when a lanky seventeen-yearold Welshman caught the eye; you could sense there was something special about the young lad from Barry.

  You will have to go a long way to find a more dedicated sportsman than David. As you will learn from this book, he doesn’t compromise with his swimming, and he’s had to make some hard choices along the way.

  He has become Britain’s most high-profile male swimmer of the twenty-first century, and quite rightly so. David is a true professional who knows his own mind; I feel privileged to have spent so much time in his company and to have covered his triumphs for BBC Radio.

  This is not the end of his story, not by a long way!

  Bob Ballard

  Chapter One

  A silver medal in Beijing

  My first reaction was relief at getting to the end of the race. It was the hardest race I’d ever been in. Getting to the line was the only thing on my mind. When I touched the wall and realised I’d won an Olympic silver medal, well, it’s a feeling you can’t put into words.

  I saw the winner, Maarten van der Weijden, hanging off the pole where you rest at the end of the race. I grabbed him, mostly just to stay afloat, but also to give him a hug. Then I hauled myself onto the pontoon so I could lie down, and I don’t remember much else as I blanked out for a bit, feeling as though I wanted to be sick. It was not a nice feeling. I was dehydrated, low on sugar, exhausted, feeling hot; the lake temperature was 27 degrees centigrade. I was forced onto a stretcher, even though I wanted to be left there for a bit, and was then carried to the ambulance amid dramatic scenes.

  My coach, Kevin Renshaw, was very emotional. He came to the ambulance and had a few tears in his eyes, bless him. He didn’t have to say anything. We gave each other a hug and he said, “You’ve given it everything, you did yourself proud, you did me proud and have done everyone proud. Well done!”

  I felt better when I came round and managed to enjoy the occasion, although I felt a bit rough for the rest of the day.

  I was elated, really, as the 10k Open Water was a new race for me. There was massive joy and excitement and a lot of relief that those four years of work had not gone to waste. Having let things sink in, looking back at the race, I can see that an opportunity to win gold was there, but mistakes happened at the end. In the future, I can improve upon my performance. I’ve learned a lot. But at the time I definitely swam the race as hard as I could, and I gave everything, and that’s what I am proud of. Standing on the Olympic podium was the happiest moment of my life; I’ve now been lucky enough to have done it twice.

  Conditions for the men’s race were very different from those for the women’s race on the previous day. I spoke to the girls after my race and said I would rather have swum on their day because the weather was nice and sunny, a lot clearer, and I like swimming in the sunshine. They said, though, that the sun gets very annoying when it’s really hot. However, I definitely found that the poor visibility in my race was a problem. But that’s the beauty of Open Water swimming – you never know what conditions you’re going to get.

  I hadn’t decided to do the event until January 2008, which is late to take up an event for the Olympics, in terms of preparation and planning for it. I’d been purely a pool-based swimmer all my career, so dealing with the changeable conditions of Open Water was going to be my biggest challenge. My coach Kevin and I came to the conclusion that the best way for me to do it was to swim from the front in water as clear as possible. If you’re in front you’re not getting bashed about by the other swimmers, not having to swim in a current nor getting someone’s feet in your mouth. You’re dictating the pace and where in the water you swim.

  But it’s also the hardest way to do it because you can’t feed off everyone else, and you’re doing all the work. I wanted to get into a rhythm for about eight kilometres and then build up speed over the last two and hope to split the pack.

  The first seven and a half kilometres proved to be harder than I anticipated because the other swimmers were making it as tough as they could for me, moving up around me and making me swim faster than I actually wanted to if I was to stay in that clear water.

  The best way to describe my physical state through that last thousand metres is a bit delirious and dizzy, not really knowing where I was going. I remember coming round the last turning buoy and thinking, right, this is the home straight, this is where I make my break. I put a big kick in, upped my stroke rate and immediately the pack reduced to just three or four swimmers. I knew then that I was in the medal hunt. But it took a lot out of me. I remember hitting the little rowing buoy markers which are about a metre apart. In trying to weave around them I nearly swam into the boat, and then I went back too far to the right, over-correcting myself. I was almost staggering my way to the line. I got through it when I finally saw the line, saw the funnel leading to it, and saw that at last the finishing pads were there. I thought: kick for home. I put in a second surge but by that time Maarten van der Weijden had passed me, swimming a perfect line, to finish ahead of me even though I was catching him during the last ten metres.

  In 2007 I’d been adamant I didn’t want to do the event. All my focus had been on the 1500 metres freestyle, which is the event for which I won an Olympic medal in Athens, and I didn’t want anything to distract me from that. I thought the Open Water would be too difficult for me and it would affect my 1500.

  However, I was persuaded, somehow, and the first race I tried, which was in South Africa, went well; I really enjoyed it and felt that I had more to give to Open Water swimming.

  I did it again in the World Championships in Seville in May and came second, which qualified me for the Olympics. Then we more or less forgot about it because all my concentration was on the 1500.

  I’ve said to Kevin, who’d been persuaded by Open Water Head Coach Sean Kelly that I should compete in the event, that their efforts to get me to swim the 10k could be the coaching decision they will re
member for all time. It won me an Olympic medal and gave me an extra career path which will give me the chance to do bigger and better things over the next four years.

  The reaction of many members of the public is that they can’t believe that you can race around a lake for nearly two hours, when it’s so physically demanding. People at home who stayed up in the middle of the night to watch have kindly described my swim as heroic, which is very flattering for me and, of course, good for interest in the sport. It can only grow with the event being staged in the Serpentine at the London Olympics.

  The day we returned to Wales we had a ceremony down at Cardiff Bay, outside the Welsh Assembly where, on a work and school day, thousands of people turned out to greet us. They played a video of my race to the accompaniment of the song from the Last Choir Standing show, ‘We Are the Champions’, and it gave me goose bumps; it was surreal to be on an open-top bus and recognised on the street, but so exciting as well.

  Looking back on it all, did I give myself too much to do, in swimming two tough 1500 metres races and then the Open Water? But it had never been done before, which was the kind of challenge that really attracted me. The event was new to the Olympics and there weren’t many swimmers who would do both, and those that did were not expected to make the final in the pool – I was the only one who did.

  They were two of the hardest 1500 metres races of my life. The heats were phenomenally fast. The time I recorded in my heat was only just slower than the time with which I won bronze in Athens and I only had thirty-six hours to recover and go again.

  After starting well in the final, I faded to finish in sixth place. It had taken a lot out of me, not just physically, but emotionally too and then I had four days to get it right in the lake. I think the lake is where I showed my true character.

  Chapter Two

  My start in swimming

  I was born in St David’s Hospital, Cardiff, on 3rd March 1985, two days after St David’s Day, hence my name. The first-born of my parents Paul and Sue, I have a younger sister, Sian.

  My dad works in a silicone plant for Dow Corning as a pipe-fitter, and Mum works for South East Cancer Network. My little sister, who is five years younger than me, has started university in Cardiff.

  Both my parents went to school in Barry and have lived there all of their lives. I went to a Welsh-language primary school before moving to an English-language secondary.

  I’m very family orientated. I would visit my grandparents at weekends and they’d take me down to the beach on Barry Island on a Sunday morning and to the fairground. When I was seven my granddad took me down to Porthkerry Park, which is an enormous park in Barry, and I fell out of a tree and broke my arm.

  I still have a huge scar on my arm from that operation.

  I had a very normal childhood, really, and I was a very good boy, I’d like to say. I stayed out of trouble, had good friends and wasn’t a problem child when it came to bullying or being loud in class – I was an ‘average Joe’. Never top of the class but not bottom either.

  I didn’t enjoy going to school but, looking back now, it was a very good time. I enjoyed it more when I went to the English secondary school; it was quite weird learning things in Welsh.

  But I must mention my A-level Welsh teacher, Mr Reynolds, who was a bit of character. I was the only pupil in the A-level class so I got to know him quite well. When he was reading your work he would start flicking your ear if he found a mistake and start tugging and twisting it. He’d say, “What are you doing, Dai squared?” – a joke reference to Dai, Dai for David Davies. He was an old Welsh traditionalist so if we were ever doing any Welsh poetry he’d start crying and get really emotional.

  My P.E. teachers used to tell me I was a rugby boy and I should play on the wing. I’d say, “I’m not playing rugby, I can’t injure myself, I’m a swimmer.” They’d say, “You’re not going to make it as a swimmer, get in there, get the ball, son, and run.”

  I used to play for the school second fifteen, standing out on the wing and trying not to get my hair wet or break a nail! (Bit of a diva.) But I did it just to be involved and keep the school happy.

  Gradually they started saying, “You can sit out this rugby lesson, you’re not a bad swimmer.” John Huw Williams, my first P.E. teacher, and Rob Glaves, who was my P.E. teacher later on, were really keen and very supportive. Suddenly people stopped thinking, who is this joker who thinks he’s a swimmer? And seemed to know everything about my rivals, and all of my achievements.

  My school will claim that I was a gold-star pupil but I was really just run of the mill and I just got by. I wasn’t into hanging around street corners and chucking stones at cars or drinking cider when thirteen. My childhood was all very quiet and enjoyable.

  My first experience of swimming was when I was very, very young and we went to Portugal. Dad bought a fly-away football, threw it into the pool, then threw me in and told me to get it. I didn’t have any fear of the water and would swim on Dad’s shoulders.

  Mum got me involved in swimming at the local club in Barry. She was the swimmer of the family, having swum in her youth at District Schools’ level, as well as for fun. I did the ‘Learn to Swim’ lessons and then went on to the Saturday galas when I was six or seven and I just loved the competing part of it.

  I got into a winning habit quite early, it gave me a real thrill and I still have all my medals at home – Mum keeps them in a shoe box in the attic.

  At school we did the Kellogg’s badge awards when I was ten and by that time I was swimming at club level, so it was my chance to show off to the other kids in the class that I could swim. I got my gold badge at the 1500 metres, which was the longest distance you could swim.

  The support parents give to their sporting kids is massively undervalued. It’s not just about being taxi drivers, putting dinner on the table or buying a new pair of flash trainers at the weekend. My parents always gave me the right amount of support while being relaxed enough never to be pushy parents. They had enough knowledge of the sport to be able to advise me, without trying to tell me what to do. They would take me to swimming lessons and stay and watch while chatting to other parents. They’d come to watch at galas but whenever I got home I’d just be Dave as normal, whether I’d won or lost. They were definitely never pushy parents.

  My parents have been huge influences on me. Their biggest influence, swimming-wise, was probably when they suggested I move from my local club in Barry and look to go somewhere else if I wanted to improve. This was indeed the start of a wonderful, much more serious swimming career.

  Chapter Three

  Competing as a junior

  I left Barry and joined the City of Cardiff club at the age of nine, which for swimming in those days was like joining Real Madrid from Dagenham and Redbridge – for Welsh swimming, anyway.

  Things were instantly different. Waking up early in the morning was the first thing I had to get used to. To this day I still find 5 a.m. starts hard work. The sound of an alarm buzzing when it’s dark, wet and cold outside and you’re in a deep sleep would make most kids switch off the alarm and go back to sleep. I got into a good habit early, however. I would get up, train, trot off to school, then return to the pool when school was over for the day.

  I was finding the training work more enjoyable, more structured and could see myself swimming faster. There were a lot of talented kids at the club who were my age, so that gave me some competition and also gave me some very good friends. My oldest and best friends today are guys I met in my early days at Cardiff.

  As a young kid I used to swim really high in the water with a short, fast, turn-over and I joined the Cardiff club in the lower ranks of swimmers. Of course, back then I had no vision of being in the Olympic Games. I was just there in order to improve my swimming; to be with better coaches at a better club.

  But the Head Coach, Dave Haller, came in during one session, after I’d only just joined, and I remember him speaking to my mum and dad and the other coach and sa
ying, “Don’t change that boy’s stroke. I know it’s very unorthodox, but just leave him.” That was a crucial moment in my career. After that Dave took an interest in me and always kept a close eye on me, and it gave me great confidence. He had only recently been on television, because he was our Head Coach at the World Championships in Rome in 1994, and a week later here he was, speaking to me. No wonder I was excited. So he’s been an absolutely massive influence on me, right from the start. He is a visionary who has a fantastic eye for spotting technique and talent.

  The best way to describe my stroke is that I swam like a spider crawls: really short strokes but with a very fast stroke rate.

  It was natural for me and I have adapted it over the years. People used to say I wouldn’t be able to keep that up, and no one could swim 200 and 400 freestyle like that, and I was just going to blow up. They thought that as soon as I put weight on I’d be lower in the water and wouldn’t be able to do it.

  I don’t know if it was jealousy, or lack of understanding, but, in any case, I never really let it bother me.

  We lived twenty minutes drive from the pool. I appreciated my parents’ commitment driving me there twice a day, with early morning starts, and I know it put a strain on them.

  Maybe knowing that pushed me on too. Because between the ages of nine and twelve I did very well at Welsh Age Group level. The big event of the year was always held at the Empire Pool and that was the event I particularly wanted to do well in. I got seven medals one year, eight the next and thought I was the bee’s knees: this was as good as it got!

  But when I was twelve I went for the first time to the British National Age Groups and suddenly went from being the big fish in a small pond to thinking that I’d never be as good as these kids. Several of them were very big at a young age and were absolutely miles ahead of me. I wasn’t even making finals. I was finishing twelfth or thirteenth and I thought I was never going to make it.