In high school, some of the guys were really into music. When I first joined the team as a sophomore, I was blown away when we came out for our first home match—I'm getting goose bumps just thinking about it. The seniors would bring their whole stereo system. We started by yelling and stuff inside this little room just off the gym; then the coaches said, "Ready. Go!" We threw open the door and came running out. Even when I hear the songs now I get all jacked up.

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.

I thank my dad for my mental longevity and for the fact we played against better competition.

The first thing I do when I get there—like all of the players on tour—is apply sunscreen. One of the few hazards of the job is the wear-and-tear our skin takes from the sun.

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.

I had a bunch of different colored hats I wore. When I started wearing a pink one, we won five or six tournaments in a row, so I stuck with it. It started as superstition and now it's tradition—my hideous trademark that I always wear.

There's nothing worse than the feeling of wishing you had another chance at a play because you weren't ready. Every athlete has those feelings to mull over, and over and over ... Don't even expose yourself to the possibility to being caught off-guard. —