Quotes from Jonny Bairstow

Look how successful Eddie Jones was, then all of a sudden a training camp is wrong and it's his fault. The same with Stuart Lancaster.

The 20th anniversary of my dad David's death coincided with my 50th Test cap and for it to be my mum Janet's birthday, too, made it an emotional few days. It was not an easy week, being the Pink Test and my mum having had breast cancer twice.

I've learnt a lot about Dad from going around the world and listening to other people. Whether I've been in Australia, the Caribbean, Leeds, Scarborough or London there's always someone who's got a story about him.

Well, I grew up in a certain way, through the experiences that I had, so I don't know how I would have turned out had things been different.

All sportsmen have superstitions, or at least they have routines. You look at Rafa Nadal and the way he organises his water bottles. Me, I always put my left pad and left shoe on first.

Mum never made an excuse, even when she had cancer and had a lot on her plate. You have to have huge admiration for the way she brought us up.

You go out onto the playing field every time to win and you will do all you can to do that, but not at all costs and especially not to cheat.

In an Ashes series you have to adapt quickly to the conditions and your rivals. If you don't, you get found out.

You think of what might have been different if dad had been around, or how I might have turned out as a person. You just don't know. I might not even be playing cricket.

I do enjoy fielding in the deep and I enjoy engaging with the crowd.

My dad passed on his cricketing talent. My mum has enabled me to use it.

I think it's something you learn over a period of time; you learn to be more comfortable within yourself, appreciative of what you've got and what you haven't, you realise the talents you have and what you can do and you take on the chin the things that you have to. It's part and parcel of growing up.

I'm a bit taller too because I've got Mum's legs and Dad was a bit more squat and well-built than me. My brother Andrew is a bit more like Dad.

You know when you've hit a good shot. I use a bat that weighs two pounds and nine ounces, and it makes a reassuringly solid sound when I connect properly. The ball pings off the middle.

The great risk of being alive is always that something can happen to you - or to someone you dearly love - at any moment.

With my dad gone, I made a resolution to myself. I would become the man of the house. Adulthood was still more than a decade away for me.

When Dad passed away, grandpa took on that mantle of teaching me how to tackle at football or taking me and mum to cricket.

You're able to learn different things from different coaches and different players.

When you're going through difficult times, like I was after the 2013-14 Ashes, you start thinking about different bits. Rugby is a huge passion of mine, a lot of my friends play.

I look so much like my dad - same chin, same cheekbones, same forehead - and I play a little like him too. But I am my mother's son. I am who I am because of her.

I was a fortnight away from my 16th birthday when the fabled 2005 Ashes series ended. My hero-worship throughout it belonged to Ian Bell - though I don't think I've ever made that abundantly clear to him.

Everything goes out of the window when you start an Ashes series. It's about grabbing the moment.

Get picked for an Ashes Test at Lord's and you know you're going to meet the Queen. She arrived before the start of our game against Australia in 2013 and we lined up for inspection like the household cavalry on Horse Guards Parade.

You only have to see the rate of divorce in cricket. You're away so much and then 18 months later, you're around all the time and not sure what to do with the rest of your life. You go from being at the peak of your powers to being at the bottom of the food chain.