Andrew Flintoff

I remember, when Paul Collingwood first came into the dressing room, we did everything together. We practised together, trained together, had dinner together; we batted together and did well in games together - we were thick as thieves. When he got established, he just binned me.

I want to be the world's number one one-day player; I want to win a World Cup, win the championship with Lancashire - those are my motivations.

Sometimes, there's a fine line between bravery and utter stupidity. The day I decided to climb into a boxing ring for a professional fight was probably on the side of stupidity.

I would never bet against a side I'm playing in. I'd never bet against myself, ever.

I would try monoskiing, but the problem is my dodgy knee's on my right side, and my bad ankle's on my left, so I can't really use either.

It was two different worlds: my world - cricket, the dressing room and the lads. And then family. Even when they travelled with me, it wasn't always easy to bridge the gap.

Looking at my family today, I think, 'I could not have done any better.' That's one thing I have got right.

In boxing, Mike Tyson fascinates me. The attitude and confidence that he could not be beaten when he was heavyweight champion of the world was interesting. He came across as very mild-mannered, and much of what he said made sense.

I can remember all the bad games and rubbish shots I've played far more than all my successes. Luckily, as I've got older, I've got better at dealing with that. What's the point of regrets? They don't change anything.

I've been to a lot of places to play cricket, but cricket and training get in the way! In India, all you see is the hotel and the cricket ground.

When I was younger, I played football and table tennis for local teams. I also played mini-rugby at primary school - I was tall for my age - and Preston Grasshoppers wanted me, but I wasn't that interested in rugby. It was always going to be cricket for me.

When I retired first time around, injury had beaten me, and I hated that. Now I realise I'm no longer good enough. And I can handle that. It's fine that I'm not good enough.