There are moments in sport when a person’s greatest strength becomes their potential undoing. In the 2025 Wimbledon women’s final, as Iga Świątek methodically dismantled Amanda Anisimova 6-0, 6-0 in the most one-sided women’s final in over a century, we witnessed a masterclass not just in tennis execution, but in the psychology of competitive empathy.
As each game slipped away from Anisimova, her first major final transforming into a nightmare of unforced errors and mounting panic, Świątek faced a choice that would have tested the mettle of any champion. The human instinct, the empathetic response, would have been to ease off the accelerator. To allow Anisimova a game, perhaps even a set, to restore some dignity to the occasion. Yet this is precisely the trap that can destroy the reality of becoming a champion.
The Empathy Paradox
Empathy, the cornerstone of human connection, becomes a dangerous liability at the highest echelons of sport. Świątek, watching her opponent’s confidence crumble with each passing minute, would have felt the natural pull of compassion. Anisimova had fought her way back from mental health struggles, had taken an indefinite break from tennis just two years ago, and was finally having her moment on the grandest stage – only to find herself drowning in the cauldron of pressure.
Anisimova’s lack of experience clearly showed, she was extremely nervous and totally overwhelmed by the situation. Every tennis aficionado could see it. The question becomes: what does the competitive opponent do with this knowledge?
The answer separates the good from the great. Świątek understood, perhaps intuitively, that empathy in competition is not kindness – it is condescension. To deliberately lose points, to artificially prolong the match, would have been the ultimate insult to Anisimova’s journey. It would have transformed a legitimate sporting contest into a contrived charitable exhibition.
The Compound Effect of Confidence
What made Świątek’s clinical approach so crucial was the snowball effect that occurs when confidence collapses. For Anisimova, it might just have come down to nerves in her first major final, as experts had predicted. But what they perhaps hadn’t anticipated was how quickly those nerves would compound.
In tennis, unlike many sports, there is nowhere to hide. Each point is a fresh opportunity for public failure. As Anisimova’s shots began to spray wide, as her serve continued to falter, as her movement became increasingly tentative, the psychological pressure and the negative emotions intensified exponentially. This is where the empathy trap becomes most dangerous for the opponent.
Had Świątek chosen to ease up – to hit with less power, to make deliberate errors – she would have created a false reality. Anisimova’s confidence crisis would have been temporarily masked rather than addressed. But more dangerously, allowing even a single game might have provided the spark that transformed the entire match. In tennis, momentum is everything. One game becomes two, two becomes a set, and suddenly the narrative shifts from inevitable victory to psychological thriller.
The moment Anisimova sensed charity rather than defeat, her belief system would have undergone a seismic shift. “Perhaps I can compete at this level after all”, her subconscious would have whispered. “Perhaps this isn’t beyond me.” That dangerous hope, born from artificial success, could have been the catalyst for a complete turnaround. Świątek understood this intuitively – that in showing mercy for even one game, she risked not just prolonging the match, but potentially losing it entirely.
The Kindness of Ruthlessness
There is a profound psychological truth at work here: sometimes the cruelest thing you can do to an opponent is to show them mercy. By maintaining her relentless intensity throughout the entire 55-minute encounter, Świątek was actually demonstrating the deepest form of respect for her opponent.
She was saying, in effect: “I will not patronise you. I will not treat you as anything less than a worthy adversary. I will give you my absolute best, and trust that you will respond in kind.” This is the paradox of elite sport – respect is shown through ruthlessness, not through artificial kindness.
Anisimova took a mental health break away from the tour a little more than two years ago, and her journey back to a Grand Slam final was remarkable. But that journey would have been cheapened by false sympathy. Instead, she received the ultimate validation: a champion’s full attention and best effort.
The Mental Architecture of Champions
What yesterday’s match revealed about Świątek’s mental architecture is perhaps more significant than her technical mastery. The ability to maintain peak intensity whilst simultaneously managing one’s own empathetic responses is a skill that separates the elite from the merely excellent.
This was the first Wimbledon women’s final in the Open era, spanning 114 years, in which one player didn’t win a single game. Such a statistic could have weighed heavily on Świątek’s mind. The historical significance, the potential embarrassment for her opponent, the watching millions – all of these factors could have created internal pressure to ease up.
Yet champions are defined not by their response to external pressure, but by their ability to maintain clarity of purpose in the face of emotional complexity. Świątek’s willingness to continue pursuing excellence, even as victory became inevitable, demonstrates the mental fortitude that has propelled her to six Grand Slam titles.
The Lesson for Life
This dynamic extends far beyond tennis courts. In business, education, and countless other arenas, we often mistake kindness for the lowering of standards. Grade inflation in British schools aims to boost confidence, but disincentivises the pursuit of true excellence. Vanity sizing of clothing aims to make customers feel better about themselves, but eliminates a trigger for us to take action against our growing middles. We confuse empathy with the artificial creation of false realities.
But true empathy – the kind that actually serves others – requires us to maintain our highest standards whilst simultaneously understanding the struggle of those who haven’t yet reached them.
Świątek’s victory was not just a tennis triumph. It was a lesson in the sophisticated psychology of competition, a demonstration that sometimes the most empathetic thing you can do is to refuse to let empathy compromise your excellence.
In the end, both players left Centre Court with their dignity intact. Anisimova, because she had faced a champion’s best effort and knew that her defeat came against legitimate greatness. Świątek, because she had honoured both the moment and her opponent by refusing to diminish either.
That is the true measure of a champion: not just the ability to win, but the wisdom to win in the right way. Even when empathy tempts you into thinking that mercy might be kinder, the champion understands that excellence is the highest form of respect.