Sinner vs Alcaraz: The Evidence of Being Human
Not that the game was missing. But there was something else.
There was the feeling, palpable, that the one on the field was a rarer, deeper confrontation.
Not between two athletes. But between two people, who in that moment recognized each other in their mutual limit.
In the body that asks for a truce.
In the mind that wavers.
In the fact that neither of the two was trying to annihilate the other. Only to remain standing, to cross.
And those who observed from the outside were able to grasp something that cannot be taught.
A confrontation that was no longer a clash, but a mirror.
When competing doesn't mean getting tough
We live in a time where strength and vulnerability seem opposites.
Where lucidity is often confused with detachment.
Where “functioning” has become more important than “feeling.”
And yet, that day on Philippe Chatrier, something different happened.
A moment where presence surpassed performance.
Where tension did not divide, but held together.
No words were needed.
Just two human beings who, under pressure, could not stop seeing each other.
What if this were the true terrain of leadership?
What would happen if this kind of humanity could be seen elsewhere?
In companies, in teams, in decision-making rooms.
Among those who are called to lead, every day, with clarity and courage.
What would happen if we accepted that vulnerability is not a limit to hide,
but a foundation for generating authentic respect?
Alcaraz won. Sinner lost. But maybe that’s not the point.
Because neither of them came out unscathed.
Not whole. Not the same as before.
They went through something.
And it showed.
In the way they greeted each other – without triumphalism, without theatrical gestures –
but with a silent and profound form of mutual recognition.
They had changed.
They had seen a piece of themselves in the other.
“Being kind is not a way of sugarcoating reality.”
It's a way of staying in, even when it would be easier to get out."
In the Gentle Men's Club, we often ask ourselves what kind of presence is needed today,
in work, in leadership, in life.
Perhaps it is precisely the one seen on the field:
a presence that does not give up lucidity, but not even care.
That holds up to the pressure, without ceasing to feel.
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