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t won’t come as a surprise that Eamon Sullivan likes to win – not just in the pool, but at everything he tries. “Whether it’s rhythmic gymnastics or pretending to be a horse on all fours – I want to win,” he says. Kicking back on a long blue bench seat at Channel Ten’s headquarters, Sullivan is talking about some of the left-field challenges involved in his role as a team leader on Ten’s new family entertainment show, A League of Their Own. In his olive-green jeans, denim shirt and casual sneakers, he could be mistaken for any average 28-year-old. His casual attire and disarming grin are an excellent disguise for the core of fierce competitiveness just under the surface. What is surprising, though, is the fact that this three-time Commonwealth gold medallist and two-time Olympic silver medallist places clowning around just as high on his list of his priorities as winning. That why he has relished the opportunity to play the fool during his gig on A League of Their Own. The show, hosted by comedian Tommy Little, involves team captains Sullivan and Pat Cash competing in quizzes, funny games and sporting challenges, including trying their hand at V8 racing, gymnastics and cycling, among other things. It provides a welcome comic relief from the serious demands of Sullivan’s other pursuits. The Perth-born freestyle champion has focussed on winning since he started swimming competitively at the age of 13. So it’s refreshing for him to invite people to laugh at his shortcomings. “It’s quite funny when you try your hardest at something and you still look ridiculous,” he says. His grin widens as he hints at the quirky trivia questions that might be asked on the show. “Here are three sports stars, what are their favourite smells? It’s weird answers, like ‘sniffing a baby’,” he explains. “They’re all true facts.” Here’s another quirky question: which sports star set up a Twitter account for his dog, Baxter, and tweets on his behalf? The answer is: Eamon Sullivan. “It was a Saturday night in the peak of training,” Sullivan says. “I was sitting on the couch as usual. I looked at Baxter and thought, ‘What are you thinking?’ Then I thought, ‘I’ll just make it up’.” Baxter’s Twitter feed highlights Sullivan’s cheeky side: “Is that a tennis ball in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Baxter tweets to Sullivan. The three-year-old French bulldog hasn’t tweeted for more than a year but still boasts more than 600 followers. “He might make a comeback,” Sullivan chuckles. “But then Duke [Sullivan’s other French bulldog] will be jealous that he doesn’t have Twitter.” Social media hasn’t been all fun and games for Sullivan. He has received plenty of negative feedback for his performances from some of his 33,000 Twitter followers, particularly during the London 2012 Olympics, when many felt he failed to live up to his golden promise. “If you make one mistake there’s quite a negative response,” he says. “It’s disappointing when people have nothing better to do than slag you off or write something mean.” Still Sullivan insists nasty tweets are like “water off a duck’s back” and the only opinions that matter to him are those of his father, John, mother Pam, sister Pia, and his friends. “I just love to have fun,” he says. “Ask my friends. I’ll pester them until they break. I’m like a little brother that doesn’t quit. I don’t like being serious.”
Within the Olympic swimming team, he’s known for taking photos of his teammates taking a nap and posting them on Instagram. He says that growing up, he loved Jim Carrey and Rowan Atkinson and admired their ability to please a crowd. But when you’re a public figure, a bit of tomfoolery can turn into national news. Late last year, there was an incident involving a motorised scooter and a café patron during a buck’s party in Adelaide, which ended up with Sullivan pleading guilty to disorderly conduct and paying a $1000 fine. “Whenever I do have fun there’s photos. It’s made me a lot more cautious of having fun in public, which is a shame for me, but at the same time it’s fine. I enjoy going out for dinner and having a red wine instead of causing havoc,” he says. A havoc-free life will become inevitable now that the Australian Olympic Committee has declared Sullivan eligible for selection for the 2016 swimming team for Rio de Janeiro. There had been a question mark hovering over Sullivan’s Olympic future, and that of five teammates, investigated for taking the sedative Stilnox during a wild “team bonding” night in Manchester ahead of the London Olympics. Sullivan confessed to using the drug and publicly apologised. On August 23, the AOC announced he and the others would not face formal sanctions, but were on notice that no further indiscretions would be tolerated.
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he decision has come as a huge relief to Sullivan, even though he admits that after his last Olympic experience, he contemplated throwing in the towel. He says there have been times in the past year when he battled with the idea of having to return to life as a “complete saint”, relinquishing fun and a social life to have a crack at gold again. “After London I was really disillusioned,” he says. “Obviously it wasn’t a great experience. You question yourself, why do I put myself through all the pain of training to be painted in a negative way?” But he’s not ready to give up the pool just yet. In June, after 10 months on dry land, Sullivan took his first dip since London. “Just having that feeling of watching the sun come up and being in the water and being around friends – it was something I really missed,” he says. “I’m not ready to bow out after the way London panned out.” He reckons he has only another three years of top-level swimming left in him. “You only have one shot at your sport and getting your life set up,” he says. “I really want to do that right.” Sullivan has had six major operations during his career and says it’s unusual for a swimmer to have even one. “I was going for speed, strength and power. My body just kept breaking down,” he says. The upside of the operations, he says, was that they gave him time to think and get in touch with his spiritual side. He has marked many of these occasions with tattoos. He twists his wrists to reveal two small Chinese characters – “this means good fortune” – then lifts his shirt to reveal more charcoal-coloured ink on the right side of his abdomen. “That’s a reiki symbol for strength and protection.” A scar from an emergency appendix removal adds texture to the artwork. He also has an unfinished Zen circle that represents moving away from a chosen path and making one’s own destiny. This is perhaps the most symbolic for Sullivan, who is already carving out a path in hospitality. After winning Celebrity MasterChef in 2009 with a decadent chocolate délice, Sullivan went on to share his
culinary flair with West Australians, opening Subiaco café Louis Baxters in 2011 with former MasterChef senior producer Laki Baker. Then, in March this year, he opened North Fremantle restaurant Bib & Tucker. It’s not bad for a kid who was a fussy eater until he learned to cook during home economics classes at John XXIII College in Mount Claremont, Perth. When the restaurant opened he was up at 5am and wouldn’t get home until midnight. “During the day I’d have a muffin and a handful of chips. It was go, go, go.” Pole-vaulter Steve Hooker and hockey player Jamie Dwyer are also investors in the restaurant, which has had more than its share of teething problems, including structural issues, lease woes and, initially, no liquor licence. But soon the restaurant began to hum and, once again, Sullivan was winning. Between owning a café and a restaurant, starring in a new television show and training for the next Olympics, he hasn’t left much time for leisure or for love. Sullivan hasn’t been publicly linked to a woman since he split with fellow Olympic swimmer Stephanie Rice in 2008. He dodges the subject of women as deftly as he tumble-turns at the end of a lane. “Looking back on it, I haven’t had time for a social life,” is all he’ll say. In May, Sullivan posted a picture on Instagram of himself sitting at a table alone with the caption, “I built a table … I have no one else to use it with.” While his tone and image are facetious – a companion clearly took the photo – it’s tempting to wonder why he’s cramming his life with work, responsibility and
“I just love to have fun. I’ll pester my friends until they break. I’m like a little brother that doesn’t quit.” relentless athletic demands when he could be taking his good looks and easy charm out on the town, enjoying himself and making the most of his remaining youth. Surely one bad experience at a buck’s party hasn’t forced him to quit public frivolity entirely? “It’s never too late to have fun,” he says. “I’m the first to admit I would never have been a lawyer or a vet, so while I’m doing my sport and I’ve got options, I want to use what I have now to pave my way for the future so I can have fun when I’m retired.” In the meantime, it’s not all pain in pursuit of gain. Before the intensity of training kicks in there’s still time for culinary tours of whatever city he happens to be in. After filming A League of Their Own wraps, he plans to hit Melbourne and check out his mate George Calombaris’ latest offering, Gazi. “George brings out a new restaurant pretty much every week,” Sullivan jokes. If not frequenting a Calombaris venue he might be found waiting his turn in line outside a food truck or grabbing a coffee. “Melbourne’s really got the whole coffee roaster and boutique thing down pat,” he says. He won’t rule out expanding his West Australian brand of hospitality to the east coast but, for the moment, he has enough on his plate. “I’m on the non-plan plan. I know the things I’m interested in. I could go anywhere,” he says. But before he goes anywhere, he’ll go to Rio. \ editorial@theweeklyreview.com.au We WelCome your feedbACk @
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WAtCH » A League of Their Own airs on Channel Ten on Mondays at 7.30pm. SEPTEMBER 18, 2013 \ The weekly review 15