The suit-and-tie job is very nice but it’s not really who I am in my heart.
When you are thrown onto the stage at 17 in such an enormous way, it becomes living on the edge because every step you take, every word you speak, every action you do becomes headline news. And it became, for me, life or death.
I believed in raising my children as I had been raised.
I go to London, my favourite city in the world, and I feel at home.
I go to my favourite tournament, I talk about my favourite sport and it’s just a great month of parading.
How do you build a relationship when you’ve hardly shared a word but suddenly share a child? How do you love a daughter you don’t see for nearly two years? When does she become your daughter? How does she become your daughter?
I met with my lawyers. They gave me all the wrong advice. For a long time I refused to accept the child was mine. I should have met her, arranged a DNA test and accepted my responsibility.
That’s the hard part about sport: as men we haven’t started to be in our prime, but as athletes we are old people. I needed support. I lost trust and did stupid things.
I don’t really care what the man on the street thinks. I never did anything to please him in the first place, and I’m not going to start now.
For a year, I had all sorts of weirdos coming on to me.
It’s silly to say it about a tennis player, but I’m an unbelievable hero in Germany. And Germany needs heroes more than any place.
I don’t know how many millions of photographs have been taken of me.
The eyes of some of the fans at Davis Cup matches scare me. There’s no light in them. Fixed emotions. Blind worship. Horror. It makes me think of what happened to us long ago.
Does anyone ask their parents how they are conceived?
Where do you go when you’re the best in the world? What’s next?