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I got stuck up a tree when I was about seven, and my dad had to come and get the ladder to get me down. I loved to climb all the way up to the top. I must have been a koala in my past life.
I’ve hung out at dozens of playgrounds, bored out of my mind, with not even a look of comfort from disapproving mothers all around me. Either they think I’m a pedophile or a deadbeat dad. That’s what I get for being a single dad – suspicious looks at the playground.
My mum’s parents were from Ireland, my dad’s mum was American-Irish.
Obviously, losing a parent is very difficult. I miss my dad every day, but I know he would be proud to see me continuing to swim and going for another shot at the Olympics.
I actually study boxing – my dad was a Golden Gloves champion so I learned how to fight at a very young age. Growing up in Brooklyn you always had to watch your back, so I pretty much learned to protect myself.
I’d always assumed that I would die at about the same age as my dad – he was 45. I am five years in credit now. I can’t get my head around the fact that I am older than he was – ever.
I’m a four star general in this thing, and you don’t rise to the ranks of a four star general by hanging about the house being the perfect dad.
On my best days, such as when I was a junior in high school coming off a 42-point performance and near triple-double, my dad was there to tell me I haven’t arrived yet and bring me back to reality.
I love playing a dad. It’s hard to find family dramas that are genuinely funny.
I don’t know if there is a gene for comedy, but my dad was a very funny man. He just didn’t know it. He was a naturally funny character, and when my brother and I would laugh at things he said and did, he would say, ‘What do you think is so funny?’