I tried hard to create my own records when a lot of them belonged to Steve Davis, so to see someone else beat yours, you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a twinge of regret there.
The thing is, with century breaks, maximums, ranking tournaments, these sorts of things are automatically going to be broken: it's not if but when.
I obviously know how good I was, and people refer to the modern game being tougher.
People often write to me, addressing the envelope, 'Stephen Hendry, Snooker Player' or 'Stephen Hendry, Scotland,' and it reaches me.
There are times when there's been some discontent and muttered threats from audience members. I take no notice, and in any case, I always have John Carroll around to deflect unpleasantness.
The crowd could be tough to deal with at times, but I learned to use them and the way they behaved towards me as strong motivation.
When you're young and you first come onto the scene, you're fearless. You just go for your shots and don't really think about the consequences. But as you play on through years and years, you get punished for those misses, and gradually, that leaves scars. It dents your confidence a bit.
It's the worst feeling in the world - to lose in the first round at Sheffield and then have to go home - because it's such a long tournament, and it's hard to avoid it. It's on the TV all day every day, and if I lost, I didn't want to be anywhere near snooker.
However much I try, I can't shake off the effects of the yips.
Even though I say to myself that I was seven-times World Champion, the voice in my head says, 'You can't play this shot.' It's completely mental - quite literally. My confidence is sapped every time this happens.
It is quite surreal when you go to places up the north, like Inner Mongolia, and you are getting mobbed at the airport.
If the World Seniors led to a place directly into the Crucible, then I would take it very seriously because to play there again would be incredible.
Going into a tournament with 100 per cent belief you will win it - that's how I've always enjoyed snooker.
Did I have a mis-spent youth? I suppose I did in that I left school early without any qualifications, having bunked off a few times for tournaments.
When I didn't retain the world title after my first win, which no one's ever done, I was gutted and made my driver take me home straight away. We travelled through the night, and I didn't say a word all the way from Sheffield to South Queensferry.
In any sport at the top level, if you don't put in the hard work, you can be sure someone else is. It is a vicious circle.
I enjoy commentating on the big tournaments for the BBC, the occasional exhibition match, and my business interests.
The only way you can get confidence is by winning, and unfortunately, the only way you win is by being confident.
In the late '80s and early '90s, I took success for granted, winning four or five tournaments a year. I just expected to win them.
Maybe I wish I could be out there on the big occasions playing like I did at my peak, but I certainly don't miss the six and seven hours a day practice that went hand in hand with being world champion in the nineties - or losing to guys knowing that it would never have happened when I was at my best.
