Olympic diver Matthew Mitcham wowed the world with his win last August, but half a year later -- with no major endorsements yet -- he's ready to prove his gold medal is much more than a flash in the pan.
"Matthew Mitcham has done something that nobody in the world thought anyone in the world could do!"
That’s a pretty lofty accomplishment to ascribe to just anyone, especially a gentle, smile-prone 20-year-old who looks less like a world-class Olympian and more like the little brother whose head is always ripe for a noogie or two. But when Australian diver Matthew Mitcham executed the highest-scoring dive in Olympic history at the Beijing Games last August -- a complicated-sounding maneuver known as a back 2½ somersault with 2½ twists -- those words, uttered by gobsmacked NBC commentator Cynthia Potter, couldn’t have rung truer.
It was a sensational come-from-behind victory that proved why so many people still consider the Olympics the best reality show on TV. Every broadcaster dreams of catching a moment like Mitcham’s gold medal–clinching dive on camera and sharing it with the world. Every athlete dreams of being the person who engenders that thrill. But more than that, every gay and lesbian fan of the Olympics -- and there are many -- can’t help but dream of seeing one of us in the middle of that moment. Matthew Mitcham became that person on August 23, 2008. His win dashed China’s well-documented hopes of sweeping all eight gold medals in the sport. It galvanized his small but committed network of supporters at home and abroad. And it made a special kind of history, because it was achieved by an out gay man, with his partner watching from the stands, in a country notorious for its poor record on human rights.
So what exactly does Mitcham do for an encore? “I don’t want to be just a one-minute wonder,” he says. “I do want to continue being the best, so that when [people] think back, there will be no doubt in their minds that Matthew Mitcham was the best diver of his time. I don’t want people to think that winning the gold medal in Beijing was just me being lucky, you know?”
One peek at Mitcham’s grueling training schedule proves that he means what he says. On weekdays he treks from his suburban Sydney home -- which he shares with his partner of more than two years, student Lachlan Fletcher -- to the Sydney Olympic Park Aquatic Centre, an imposing complex where he trains with coach Chava Sobrino for five to six hours each day. On Saturdays he’s back again for an abbreviated workout. Sundays remain the proverbial day of rest, but that’s just semantics -- in more ways than one. For all his enviable focus -- the kind that was required to help him complete that thrilling dive -- Mitcham retains a youthful, restless energy that’s on full display as he dashes into the Qantas First Class Lounge at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith International Airport for our interview. His shock of spiky blond hair is still wet, and he’s clad in a tight-fitting lime-green T-shirt, jeans, and low-top Converse tennis shoes. In a cheeky sartorial touch that’s vintage Mitcham, his ankle socks are a distinctive shade of pink. Soon after our talk, Mitcham will make his way to a separate terminal, greet a friend of Fletcher’s who’s visiting for the weekend, and head to an afternoon barbecue. It’s the capper to a busy week of pomp and circumstance -- days ago, Mitcham traveled to Melbourne and upstaged a field of better-known Aussie athletes (including triple gold medalist and local tabloid staple Stephanie Rice) by winning the 2008 Sports Performer of the Year award, a prize that’s voted on by the Australian public. Australia GQ also named him its Sportsman of the Year. “I think the last thing I said onstage there was, ‘Oh, my God, I’m a homo and I just won the sports award!’” he laughs. “People just pissed themselves and thought it was hilarious.”
Producers and photographers confer with Mitcham throughout the shoot.
Mitcham’s self-deprecating sense of humor borders on puppy-dog adorable. In a news conference just after his win, he lamented that he didn’t get to sightsee or shop during his time in China, paused for a beat, and blurted out, “But…who cares, I’ve got this!” referring to his medal. It’s this endearing inability to be anybody but himself that makes his fans -- gay, straight, whatever -- so loyal. And when he was put to the test on the world’s most important athletic stage, Mitcham aced it. He walked into the Games with nothing more than a bronze medal in his sights. “That was the ultimate,” he says, “the very pinnacle of what I thought I could achieve in Beijing.” A disastrous 16th-place finish in his first competition, the men’s three-meter springboard, indicated that he’d probably return home empty-handed. But Mitcham rallied, top-rated Chinese competitor Zhou Luxin faltered on his final dive, and suddenly Australia could claim its first men’s diving gold medal in 84 years.
The images are indelible: Mitcham nervously watches the leader board for the final results, and when the magnitude of what he’s just accomplished begins to sink in, his face crumples into a touching mixture of exhaustion and overwhelming disbelief, and it’s covered in honest-to-God tears of joy. “I remember the things that I was thinking on the platform before the dive, and I remember what happened as soon as I hit the water,” he recalls. “The dive itself is a bit vague. It felt good, although I wasn’t exactly sure. I did wait underneath the water a bit, thinking, I wonder…I wonder…I wonder… Then I popped my head out and the crowd was going wild. I looked over at Chava and he looked excited. It was the most far-out experience. It just completely took me over and I just lost it. And I think everybody loved that I lost it.”
For gay and lesbian viewers, there was something intensely satisfying about Mitcham’s unguarded behavior both in and out of the water. A lot of us fell for him the first time we saw him emerge from the pool with a gigantic smile on his face and a move that quickly became his trademark. His hands positioned along his hips, Mitcham would wave to both the crowd and the camera in a quick burst of excited energy, a motion better known in theatrical circles as the universally lampooned “jazz hands.”
“If I’m happy, I want people to know that I’m happy,” he explains. “Nobody likes to watch a grumpy diver. Happiness and laughter is infectious, and it can be passed on so easily. I think everybody loved that I was enjoying the competition.” This focused, easygoing demeanor won everyone over. “When the Americans won the 100-meter relay, they got out of the water, and they were pumping the air,” says Kate Rowe, vice president of diversity for the Federation of Gay Games, which has secured Mitcham’s support for its 2010 competition in Cologne, Germany. “The testosterone put me off. And then this guy does this cute little wave as if to say, ‘Hi, everybody! I’m here and I’m having a great time.’ It was such a different, positive energy. He was sending out a message that you can be who you are and it’s OK. And isn’t that what we all want?”
There are hints, though, that opting to disclose his sexual orientation to The Sydney Morning Herald three months before heading to Beijing may have done Mitcham some damage. Despite the accolades and awards that flooded his way in the wake of the win, Mitcham remains surprisingly below the radar in his home country, where swimming and rugby take precedence. It didn’t help that Michael Phelps dominated both the aquatic sports arena and the entire Olympic Games or that Mitcham had reentered the world of competitive diving just nine months before he clinched the gold. “It’s a little bit of a joke in my manager’s office,” Mitcham says. “Everybody in Australia knows me as ‘that diving guy,’ so they call me T.D.G.”
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