I never did. I only prepared to win the next day.

I couldn't be messing around and acting like an 11-year-old if we expected to compete well. I wanted to compete well, because it was great to see the looks in the eyes of men—like, "Wow, I am having a hard time beating this kid."

My dad was a really intense competitor and that rubbed off on me. He was loud and vocal on the court, so I let him do all the talking. But I developed a kind of quiet intensity that I knew I had to have to improve and compete with grown men. It took every ounce of focus.

Most people put a hat and glasses on to go incognito. I take them off.

When I was on the U.S. men's indoor team, I was on the road 200 days of the year and sometimes in the worst conditions. We didn't have the food or luxuries we wanted. We didn't have a laundry service. So every night after the match, I soaped up my uniform in the shower. I learned to rely on outside things as little as possible, whether it was music or massage. I just got out of the habit of relying on outside things.

It was really an exciting time trying to find my way from being a boy to becoming a man—being toe to toe and eye to eye with grown men, even though I was only 11 or 12.

The beach game taught me great lessons about how to elevate the play of my teammate, or teammates, and how to anticipate and expect the ball so much more than the indoor game ever could. It taught me - even forced me - to be a much better all-around player. That allowed me to help our USA Olympic Team in many more ways than I ever could have otherwise.