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.

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.

I had four different colors of hats, one of which was pink. I just got on a roll with the pink hat. So what started out as a superstition grew into a tradition and an easy way for my family to find me at tournaments because I am the only one with cojones big enough to wear a pink hat.

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.

I don't have to get myself pumped up or calm myself down. As we get into the later rounds of a tournament and there is more at stake, I have even more adrenaline. If we make the finals, it's just an extra opportunity to win a tournament at my age. That doesn't come along that often.

Physically I'm not as strong as I was, but I try to make up for it mentally. It's a big challenge, and I relish it, competing with guys half my age.

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.