I remember it like yesterday; I was talking to a player—she had been inside the top 300 in the WTA—and she was absolutely beating herself up.
“I don’t know whether this is for me. I just can’t believe I’m where I am now. I’ve not progressed. I’m not where I want to be. How can this be?” (I’m paraphrasing a little bit).
This player had been navigating various challenges in other parts of her life and coaching structure and was also on somewhat of a resurgence, having recently put together a bunch of quality performances.
Yet she was still being harsh and self-critical.
Instead of acknowledging her challenges and struggles and being understanding of them, it was straight to self-attack.
I bring this up to point out how normal this is in tennis and with high-performers in general. I mean, one of the reasons tennis players in general are “high-performers” in many aspects of life and living is because of how self-critical and needling we are.
We always want things to be better.
We always think we can improve.
While this can drive progress and cause us to critically assess what skills we need to improve… this kind of internal hostility can also be a major stumbling back if we’re not aware of the dynamics that we’re fostering in our mind. Constantly criticizing and demeaning ourselves does have impacts… and they’re usually negative.
That’s where self-compassion comes in.
Self-Compassion Isn’t What You Think
When I speak to athletes and high performers and mention the word “self-compassion,” I can almost see your noses turn upwards. Sometimes I think there’s a revulsion there. And I get it: self-compassion is associated with softness, excuses, or letting yourself off the hook and never demanding more from yourself.
But in the sport psychology and positive psychology literature, self-compassion is based on three main factors (Neff, 2003):
Mindfulness: acknowledging what’s happening internally and externally
Self-kindness: speaking to yourself like someone you’re trying to help
Common humanity: remembering that you’re not uniquely flawed or messed up; and that mistakes and challenges arise for everyone
In my experience, players really struggle with self-kindness and common humanity. They think that this idea of being kind to yourself is weakness or how low-performing individuals operate. “That’s how losers think.”
Furthermore, athletes with low self-compassion think that they are the only ones who could be struggling or not able to put it all together on the match court (they forget their shared humanity and common experience with athletes around the world).
That’s a mistake.
How Do Athletes With High Self-Compassion Operate?
Which leads us to our next point: well, what does it look like when athletes do embody self-compassion in their performance lives?
Lucky for us, Frentz et al. (2025) explored how athletes with high self-compassion scores navigated injuries, challenges, and the ups and downs of competitive sport. (The athletes in their study scored relatively high on a self-compassion scale, which is why they were selected to be participants.)
What emerged?
Something entirely different than the clichés of the sporting world.
Rather than centering their entire identity and worth around achievements, these athletes consistently described an approach grounded in balance, self-growth, and transformation. They were kind to themselves and understanding of their situation. Here are the main findings:
They showed perspective: instead of getting stuck in ruminative cycles or constant self-criticism, athletes were able to step back and see setbacks as part of the athletic journey.
They showed self-kindness: when injured, they respected their body’s limits. Instead of trying to force themselves through practices or workouts, they listened to their body.
They showed common humanity: these athletes normalized their own struggles. When describing nerves and frustration, they rarely interpreted these as signs that something was wrong with them individually. Instead, they understood that their peers, and athletes around the world struggle with similar emotions and feelings.
Finally, and most importantly, the athletes in Frentz et al. were solutions-oriented! These athletes were not complacent or “weak”—something that is mistakenly associated with self-compassion.
They engaged in proactive coping behaviors; they reflected on their experiences, identified what needed to change, and took action to reduce further suffering.
What You Can Learn and Apply
Taken together, these findings show that athletes high in self-compassion don’t avoid effort or lower their standards. Their stories just aren’t dominated by fear, excessive self-criticism, and narrow definitions of success.
They’re adaptable, flexible, and share a nuanced self-awareness. They don’t define themselves by their athletic performance.
How do you think this applies to you? Here, let me ask you some questions:
When you feel pressure… do you interpret it as a personal flaw? A personal failing? Or a shared human experience?
When things go wrong… do you excessively dwell? Criticize yourself for days? Or do you adjust and show self-kindness?
When you give up a big lead or can’t perform at the same level you practice… do you beat yourself up and define yourself as a weakling? Or do you look at it as a challenge to overcome?
If any of these questions hit a nerve, that’s a good sign! It means there’s room to shift the way you relate to yourself on the court. And that shift can change more than just your mood—it can impact your performance, consistency, and enjoyment.
Self-compassion is not soft. It’s an essential part of high performance. People just don’t like to talk about it or struggle to acknowledge it. Why?
Because in my opinion sporting culture is dominated with narratives of being “macho,” “tough,” and “mentally strong.” Those concepts matter… but there’s an essential place for self-compassion that shouldn’t be ignored.
Reference
Frentz, D. M., McHugh, T.-L. F., & Mosewich, A. D. (2025). Journeying through sport with self-compassion: Athlete narratives of navigating pressure and struggle. Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1123/jsep.2024-0301
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Disclaimer: I am not a licensed psychologist, mental health counselor, PsyD, or clinical PhD. I am currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Sport, Exercise, and Performance Psychology and am a sport psychology practitioner-in-training, working toward the Certified Mental Performance Consultant® (CMPC®) credential provided by the Association for Applied Sport Psychology (AASP). My work focuses on applied, non-clinical mental performance consulting, using evidence-based techniques grounded in psychology, sport science, and applied sport psychology to help athletes enhance focus, manage pressure, build confidence, and improve performance. I do not provide mental health counseling or clinical therapy. When needed, I will always refer clients to licensed mental health professionals for concerns beyond the scope of performance consulting. I have over 20 years of experience in tennis, including as a player, collegiate and professional coach, and director of programs. I am certified by the Professional Tennis Registry and am a member of Tennis Australia. My goal is to bring athletes the best research-backed insights to support long-term development and performance. If you are a researcher or practitioner and feel I’ve misunderstood or misrepresented any concept, I welcome you to reach out, and I will gladly review and issue corrections if appropriate.
