How Gould took a tumble out of the limelight before happy reemergence
By Craig Lord, Swimming Correspondent
Shane Gould set the world of swimming alight in the early 1970s. Now, with
the aid of her mother, Tumble Turns tells the tale of what happened to the girl who burst
into the sport at 13, set every world record in events from 100 to 1,500
metres freestyle and at 15 won three gold medals, a silver and a bronze at
the 1972 Olympic Games, before turning her back on fame and fortune for a
missionary life in the Australian bush.
In her words, "here is the story of why I left you and why I have
returned". The first time I met Gould, we were alone in a corridor in
Crystal Palace, an eight-year-old boy, heart thumping and autograph book in
hand, and a radiant 14-year-old who had just equalled Dawn Fraser's world record over 100 metres freestyle. It was 1971.
Twenty years later we met again, a journalist and a mother of four who had
the look of a woman haunted by a hard life. In fact, the trouble was not so
much what she called the "voluntary poverty" of her life in Margaret River,
Western Australia, but rather her struggle to reverse years of suppressing
her identity as Shane Gould, the swimmer.
I asked her at the 1991 world championships in Perth whether her four
children swam. Neil Innes, her husband, muttered "no". He hated media
attention. Shane Innes, mother of four, replied "yeah, but just for fun". End of conversation.
Gould the swimmer no longer existed. In Tumble Turns, Gould reveals how
she rediscovered her "lost heritage". It takes the reader from a tomboy's
childhood in Fiji to an Olympian who signs a commercial deal with a
swimwear company that, in the days of the pure amateur, means no turning back.
At 17, on her first tour of Europe since retirement, she is approached for
sex by a colleague, an English journalist, a British photographer and a German
diplomat. "Sickened", she returns to Australia, joins a Christian
community, marries Innes at 18 and effectively is lost to swimming.
There follow years of pursuing an "alternative lifestyle" of
vegetarianism, organic farming and the training of horses, years in which Gould's swimming past
was confined to tea chests in the junk room and left so long untouched that
rats nested in her trophies.
The Olympic medals, however, had a special place - at the bottom of the
wardrobe - and later would be used as surety for a loan. These clearly were
lean but often fun-packed times.
Gould's description of a life less commercial offers a fascinating insight
into the human spirit. We are spared self-pity, but the ghost of her swimming past
came back to haunt her marriage. By the mid-90s, antidepressants formed
part of Gould's diet. She began to research "athlete retirement stress".
Michael Wenden, the 1968 Olympic freestyle champion, was key among those
who helped to return Gould to swimming and the public eye. In his foreword to
her book, he writes: "Her career was like a high-decibel concert that had
such an impact, it left your ears ringing. But it left you still humming
the tunes long after it came to an end."
Gould is now back in the swimming community, as radiant and enthusiastic as
the 14-year-old I first met.
Tumble Turns takes the reader to a deeper understanding of a complex
symphony.
Tumble Turns, by Shane Gould (HarperCollins).
