I cry all the time, it’s an embarrassment.

On stage. It was cathartic. It takes a lot for me to cry in real life.

I last shed a tear when my nephew, who is under 10, announced that he was learning the trombone. When I was about the same age and wanted to learn the trumpet, a music teacher said: “The trumpet isn’t for you. You’ve got too-thick lips.”

Walking along Oxford Street on Saturday pulling a shopping trolley that my mother bought me. I remember saying, “I’m never going to use that!” and there I was, very grateful to have it in my life. She died before Christmas and I can’t ring her to tell her that she was right.

I love to entertain. I'm not sure every player sees it that way, but I love the performance aspect of it—to be able to entertain people week after week. Some of the happiest times in my life were spent waiting in that hallway in Melbourne, and walking out into Rod Laver Arena with my earphones in and trying to stay focused and drown out the noise but still feeling the energy of the crowd.

I don’t think about my greatest fear.

But these days, if I have to choose between building my tennis résumé and building my family, I choose the latter.

Any lost match is, of course, disappointing, but every loss is a lesson to be learned.

Taking time every day to read the Bible.

Like you can do anything.