As Tom Daley stood poolside, still revved and wide-eyed from six rounds of brutally focused 10m synchro diving, fresh from stepping up on to the podium with Noah Williams to take his fifth Olympic medal, a plastic juice cup landed at his feet.
It had been thrown, or dropped, from the tiers above where his sons, Robbie and Phoenix, were sitting. Daley snapped straight back into dad mode, that old muscle memory kicking in, and put it in his tracksuit trouser pocket. Half an hour later, the cup was still there as he walked through the mixed zone (purple juice: possibly grape), a companion piece to the silver medal around his neck; and a neat little note in the jumbling together of bits and bobs – a laptop here, rice cakes there, a rogue sock – that will be familiar to parents of young children everywhere.
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