My dad went to the Olympics, so he has that one over me. So if I go there, I'm pretty sure he has nothing to say anymore.
I am ashamed to report that my father, who is 73, has never been beaten by any of his four sons in golf. We have all become resigned to the fact that he has determined that he won't be beaten.
We're a competitive family - we compete in everything we do: playing cards; if we're walking down the street, we want to be the first one down the block.
I never let any of my sons beat me at videogames.
No one wants to be excelled by his relatives.
The Klit brothers should first fight each other, and the winner should fight me.
I want to do just like my sister, if not even better.
My mother is very good in Scrabble. In Boggle, my father is probably better.
Our family is very, very competitive. But it's a fun and inspiring sort of competitive. It makes you proud of what you do and makes you want to work hard and do all your homework so you can win.
I coached against Dave the last couple of years, and I was very proud to be the first time a father ever coached against his son. He beat me for 30 minutes the first time and 59 and a half minutes the second time.
The most physical, most annoying games I ever played in my life were against my brothers growing up.
I have such a big family, sometimes, I was wondering, when is it going to be my turn? There's always a brother who's older, younger, bigger, stronger, faster, I was like, 'hey, give me a chance guys.'
My parents are very competitive, so we are very competitive as kids. But it's a good kind of competition; it's not a jealousy. You always want to do your best, and if it can't be you, you want it to be your brother or your sister, you know what I mean?
We do have a love fest [at home]. It's like, 'I'm making you a cupcake.' Then it's like, 'Well, I made you a cake.' And it's like, 'Well I made you a cake with a cupcake on top and candles.'
O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
I have seven brothers and two sisters, so there was always a little friendly competition in the house. I don't think that's anything unusual with that many siblings.
I've been laughing with my brothers about it. Paul and Stephen both won the British title before me, but I'm going to be the first world champion in the family.
To be able to have winning in your blood growing up, whether it was pounding my little brother or trying to beat my dad in something, or just competing on teams with my friends, it was nonstop.
The satisfaction you get when you finally beat your dad is amazing, that rush of adrenaline.
(My proudest moment as a child was the time I beat my uncle Pierre at Scrabble with the seven-letter word FARTING.)
My grandmother asks me to race down the street, I'm going to try to beat her. And I'll probably enjoy it. Competitive to a fault, sometimes.
One day my dad would say, 'OK, if you want to play tennis I can help you out.' And that's how it started. And I had a goal. I wanted to beat my mom first. And my parents and my brother. And that was the ultimate goal.
I have a cousin, a second cousin, who lives in L.A., and she was with me while I was getting ready. She was talking about her father and his brothers. And I remember my mother's tales of how competitive they were with each other and how they would play for blood, you know. And I thought - I'm an only child, and I don't know what that's like. I have to figure out the Southern thing.
It is not a normal game when you play against your brother.
My parents had this incredibly vital relationship with an audience, like muscle with blood. This was the main competition I had for my parents' attention: an audience.
