My immediate feeling on winning was ‘I know who I am now’. Tennis was always a metaphor for my personal struggles – if I was struggling in my private life, you’d see it on the tennis court, and if I wasn’t, you’d see that too. Leading up to Wimbledon I was struggling with my identity – who am I, who do I trust, where do I go after winning Wimbledon at 17? I couldn’t get a bigger high than that, so I felt a little confused and unsure of myself. That changed over those 14 days in 1986.

As the weeks and months passed, I realised just how significant that victory had been. I had really rediscovered what made me strong in the first place, this determination, this controlled aggression, this single-mindedness, focusing on one goal and one goal only: the love of competition and putting it on the line. Ivan had been the right opponent – he was No. 1 in the world, which is where I wanted to be one day. I knew that if I played well I could beat him. Obviously if I didn’t play well I’d lose, but in matches with Pete Sampras later on I knew that even if I played well he could still beat me, and with Agassi if he was returning well I’d have trouble. But in 1986, I felt that if I was playing well on grass, I was tough to beat.

I had also lain to rest the pressure of being Wimbledon champion at 17. That was an amazing triumph, but I think it led me to try to please people too much. I was trying to fit into a mould that was created for me as the youngest Wimbledon champion; I felt I had to behave a certain way and say certain things and look a certain way. Winning Wimbledon a second time made me feel that I could act according to my truth, that I have to stay true to my beliefs. Those beliefs may not be right for everyone, but they’re right for me. I felt some of my sense of self was taken away by having won Wimbledon at 17, and I’d won it back by winning Wimbledon at 18.

Once again my former school principal had the last word, but this time it was a joke. That summer was the end of the two-year period in which he was holding open my schooling. There was no parade in Leimen this time, so he contacted my mother just after my second Wimbledon title, saying with a twinkle in his eye, ‘I take it he’s not coming back?’

I went to Wimbledon in 1987 having never lost a main draw match by losing the final point. My first main draw was 1984 when I’d been carried off on a stretcher, and I’d won the title in 1985 and 86. To some I was invincible, but not to me. And that’s the reason behind the quote I’m probably best known for in the first part of my tennis career.

I went on a run of good results after Wimbledon in 1986. I won Toronto; I was a semi-finalist at the US Open; I won two or three indoor tournaments in the autumn, reached the Masters final, and finished the year at No. 2 in the world. I felt the door had opened and I was where I should be. I carried this on into 1987 until the French Open when I reached the semis. I’d reached the final in Monte Carlo (I was good on clay then!), and I was close to the No. 1 ranking – Lendl was just a few points ahead.

Then Wimbledon came. I felt the pressure was off, because I’d proved myself at other tournaments. I was a little tired because I’d played so much leading up to Wimbledon, but not seriously tired, just a bit weary. I had my traditional defending champion’s opener on Centre Court, in which I beat Karel Novacek in straight sets. That victory set up a second round match against Peter Doohan, an Australian ranked 70 but who had won a title and reached a couple of finals on grass in Australia, so he was not to be underestimated. He won the first set on the tiebreak, but I broke him in the second for one set all. At that point I looked and felt in control, but he lifted his level and I couldn’t pick up the pressure. I lost fair and square in four sets.