Darren Taylor proudly proclaims: "I have no rivals."

Of course, what sane human would challenge his three world-record high dives into a kiddie pool holding 12 inches of water?

Any day now, the Denver man is expecting Guinness World Records to certify his fourth best-ever mark for "the highest shallow dive."

He made the 35-foot, 2-inch plunge into the mandatory 1-foot-deep puddle July 25 for a Tokyo TV daredevil competition called "The World's Supermen.

Even admiring colleagues say Taylor, who calls himself "Professor Splash," has a certifiable, death-defying talent as the planet's best high-altitude belly flopper.

"The guy is completely off his rocker, I mean, in a very awesome way," Andy Johnson, a fellow professional high diver, testifies in a video on Taylor's Web site (professorsplash.com).

"At the same time Darren is very calculated. He knows exactly what he's doing," Johnson stresses.

As Professor Splash puts it: "I've got a God-given talent. Might as well use it."

"I've dabbled in construction and painting. I don't like that. I like extraordinary things like diving," said the 46-year-old daredevil who augments his record-breaking pay-days barnstorming the country in high-dive shows.

What's the secret to his success?

"Don't look at that water at all. I'm looking straight up" before a dive, he said.

Taylor fixates on a vertical landmark, like a pole for lights or sound speakers, then leaps straight up and follows his guidepost down.

Despite that big splash, the professor said, he doesn't belly flop — which could seriously injure or kill him.

His critical technique is to angle himself like a human skipping stone, bracing his body like he's preparing for a punch. Then he uses his arms to break the impact into the water.

"I'm using the water as a bumper. It's actually cushioning me from the blow," said Taylor, who meticulously prepares for records by studying his films and plotting dive-site strategy.

"If I can throw a lot of water and bruise my body, I've done what I need to do."

But, in Tokyo, things went awry as Taylor hurtled to earth.

He complained that he was rushed from a TV studio in a cab to the dive arena without a chance to properly prepare for the outdoor night dive amid blinding camera lights.

As he fell the three and a half stories from a crane tower, Taylor said, "I kind of got lost, because I was coming down and the lights were swirling."

"I thought the impact zone was going to be I had another 10 feet to go," said Taylor, who unexpectedly smacked the water before he'd braced himself.

"I took a hell of a hit in the throat. My legs are black and blue. My chest had some water blisters from the hit," he said.

"It knocked me out. It knocked the wind out of me for a good 10 seconds. I saw a big, huge white lightning bolt. I couldn't talk."

Somehow, Taylor was able to exit the pool under his own power — as required by record rules.

"I'm proud to say I got the record. But this last one I did absolutely scared me to death," the professor admits.

Yet, within three days, he was back diving in a deep-water tank for a pirate-themed show in Greensboro, N.C.

Despite the Tokyo slam and shattering his right foot when he bottomed out on a 2001 tank dive, Taylor is already plotting new conquests, including:

-- Breaking the highest indoor dive record with a 112-foot plunge into a deep-water tank.

—Setting the 100-foot record for diving while on fire (using a protective suit).

-- Setting a 177-foot outdoor dive record.

What makes Darren dive?

Well, there's those record-breaking paychecks, which can be as much as $50,000 (including travel expenses for him and his assistant).

But he's still the 11-year-old kid who was awed to discover a Guinness Book of World Records at a family friend's house.

"I started thumbing through it and went 'Wow!' I was just enthralled with it," Taylor recalled.

"You know something, to be able to become a Guinness World Record holder, I'm so proud," he said. "I took a hard shot in Tokyo. But when I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, I say: 'God, man. Good job dude.' "

Then he starts pondering his flaming-fire dive.

"We're going to heat it up a little bit," Taylor said.

His dive buddy, Johnson, is awed by the professor's accomplishments. But draws the line at self-immolation.

"It's pretty nutty," Johnson said in the Web site video, before Taylor torches himself for a test jump into an icy Colorado creek during midwinter.

"I can't imagine dowsing yourself with gasoline. It's crazy," Johnson said.

gathrighta@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-5486

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