Walking into the Tokyo Aquatic Center, the first thing you notice is the smell of chlorine; you can imagine the tincture in an Olympic pool is just right, and not overpowered like it would be at Community Pool, where the kiddie pool waters mix with the lap swim lanes, requiring a thorough bleaching of the waters, but it's there.
The warmup scene is a completely different vibe from rowing - I counted 25-30 divers waiting for three diving boards on a platform about the size of two-three parking spots, plus another few handfuls on the 3-4 diving platforms - so it would be like having the entire men's and women's single fields launch on one dock at the same moment. In rowing we do rub shoulders now and then, but once we are out in the lanes, you can go 16k without ever really registering who is out there with you save maybe at the turnaround points for a few moments.
There is lots going on - good dives, bad dives, pencil dives, goofy dives that seem almost like clowning, even a few aborted dives where the athlete seized at the end of the board before taking another try, dives for which everyone is clapping for someone (I think both for good and bad dives, as I am pretty sure there was clapping for a near back-flop). Towels are flying around, and there is a pretty clear loose-tight feel in the ranks.
The 10-meter divers have to climb an easy four flights of stairs to the platform, a workout in itself; it's like climbing to the top of a parking garage at a large airport, then jumping off, over and over.
When they launch, the divers seem to plummet as any earth-bound object would, and then about 1/3 of the way down, seem to slow down just barely perceptibly, which I wonder might correspond to that moment in a jump or a rollercoaster drop or whatever you want to compare it to where all your organs seem to go up into your throat, the skin on your face climbs to your eyeballs, and the familiar queasy feeling of falling surges.
Then another third of the way down, they seem to speed up again - maybe at that point their entire system is finally in equilibrium, plummeting at the same speed, thus the perception of acceleration. Then it is a splash, and from the "lower" press tribune, which puts the 10m platform exactly at eye level, you can see them steer themselves underwater back toward the pool wall.
Oh yeah - and they are spinning and twisting and pirouetting all the way down. It is impressive.
The 10 meter platform is no joke; former Columbia diving coach Gordon Spencer is a good friend, and had been primarily a 10-meter diver when he was competing, and told me never really got used to the moment he looked over the edge of the platform.
Of course, all of this takes place indoors; that it takes place outdoors is a part of our sport that I have only come to cherish more over the years - especially after a couple stretches as a hockey and tae kwon do parent, both of which are excellent pursuits, but we get to be outside. This is nothing new to rowers; the erg was a friend to me, as it is to some extent to all our Olympic rowers - but too long indoors on the ergs and all of us start going a little bit nuts.
For photographers at a really well-appointed Olympic venue, though, the indoor venues can offer nearly ideal working conditions. At the massive photographer's meeting the day before the London Olympics started, the London 2012 photo chief, the legendary Bob Martin, explained that all venues would be lighted at precisely 5400 Kelvin, and at a specific level of lumens. Talked about dialed in - it's almost a cakewalk.
As we know, this is not the situation at a rowing venue, and it is almost routine for agency photographers to arrive at rowing venues, where you can't move to the other side of the field, or get up higher, or really move much at all, and appear completely zoinked by shooting directly into the sun, or lighting changing almost completely as the crews row past, and ask the rowing people 'how the !@#$ do you do this?!?"
The first song on the PA after the warmup was closed and the rev up to the competition began was Smoke on the Water, ha. Shortly before the 3pm start, each team of two divers was introduced individually to the cheers of their coaches and others, and the 6-round final began.
Great Britain won a close one over China, who were nearly perfect save for one troubled dive - five genius dives with one noticeably less genius dive allowed the British duo to threaten for the lead, and the Brits put together one final stunning dive to put it away.
Diving is a judged sport, which is of course a whole other story that reporters in racing sports should just stay out of, at least during the Olympic Games - and these divers are so good that you have to think, who are we to, well, judge?
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