Lee Westwood

Sometimes Americans don't quite get my sense of humor. My good ol' British sarcasm seems to go over their heads.

I'm 37, I'm pretty fit and feel I have another eight years left - which means there's 32 Majors still to go at.

The story of the week is you have got to putt well to win the Masters and I haven't putted well.

You don't win tournaments by playing well and thinking poorly.

I ruptured my plantaris muscle. It runs through the calf and goes down the side of your achilles and stretches right to the heel.

Listen, everything I did in my childhood was competitive. Everything we did my dad made it into a game to win. We used to drive my mum nuts.

It's such a psychological and mental game, golf, that the smallest wrong thing at the wrong time can distract you from what you're trying to achieve.

Yes, a Major would mean so much to me but I'm a great believer that if you work hard and in the right way, you will get what you deserve.

Race horses are like golfers, you're never sure how they're going to come out of the stalls. It's just - hopefully the horses come out of the race all right, just fit and ready to go again in the near future, but 3rd was good. It's paid for its hay.