The Champions Behind the Champions: Aryna Sabalenka, Naomi Osaka and Novak Djokovic on Pressure, Purpose and Reinvention
What does it really take to become a champion? In a revealing conversation, Aryna Sabalenka, Naomi Osaka and Novak Djokovic look beyond trophies and rankings to discuss grief, mental health, family, self-worth, discipline, faith and the private battles that shape elite athletes.
The conversation moves from Sabalenka’s relief after winning a second consecutive US Open to Osaka’s decision to step away from tennis, and finally to Djokovic’s stories of poverty, spiritual practice and finding fuel in hostile crowds. Together, their experiences offer a more complicated picture of sporting greatness: achievement may be visible, but the work of becoming—and remaining—a champion is largely internal.
Sabalenka: Relief after the hard lessons
Sabalenka’s second consecutive US Open title felt less like a repeat and more like her first Grand Slam. The difference was the emotional journey that came before it.
Earlier in the season, she had lost Grand Slam finals in Australia and Paris despite being considered the favourite. Those defeats left her heartbroken, but they also forced her to confront the emotional side of competition.
This time it feels like it happened for the first time, like it’s my first Grand Slam.
Winning in New York gave Sabalenka more than another trophy. It confirmed that the losses had taught her something: greater emotional control, resilience and the ability to handle pressure when the moment demanded it.
She described losing a final as especially painful because the dream feels close enough to touch before suddenly disappearing. Her instinct is to leave the venue quickly, process the pain privately and only later analyse what went wrong.
Sabalenka does not watch back finals she has lost. She leaves the technical analysis to her team, while focusing herself on the emotional and mental lessons.
I don’t want to see myself there losing.
The reason is not avoidance alone. Watching those matches can reopen the wound, especially when she sees behaviour she regrets. For Sabalenka, protecting her mental health means taking the lesson without repeatedly reliving the pain.
Accepting nerves instead of fighting them
Sabalenka also explained how she manages the internal conversation before and during a major tournament. Rather than trying to force nervous thoughts away, she accepts them.
The moment when you try to make things go away, they actually grow more.
She believes every athlete experiences doubt and discomfort, even if spectators cannot see it. Earlier in her career, she assumed she was the only one feeling nervous. That belief distracted her from her opponent and made the pressure worse.
Her perspective changed when she realised that both players were dealing with similar emotions. The contest, she suggested, becomes a question of who can manage those feelings more effectively.
It’s all about who’s going to do that better.
For Sabalenka, success is not simply winning. It is showing up consistently, including on the mornings when she does not feel motivated.
If you’re still there, this is success.
That definition also explains how she survived the period when her serve broke down and she seriously considered quitting tennis. After trying multiple solutions, she eventually found help and refused to walk away. Not long afterwards, she won her first Grand Slam.
Big opportunities are also big responsibility, big pressure. But not everyone has that opportunity. So you’ve got to be grateful for that.
Osaka: Finding an identity beyond tennis
Naomi Osaka’s section of the conversation centres on vulnerability: speaking openly about mental health, surviving public criticism and learning that her value is not determined by a match result.
She admitted that she feels embarrassed by how she initially discussed her mental-health struggles, but remains glad that she spoke publicly. Her openness created space for other athletes to be seen as human beings rather than emotionless performers.
I’m really glad that I did open up. It created a pathway for more discussions to be had.
Osaka’s first US Open victory, against Serena Williams, was a lifelong dream—but the circumstances surrounding the final complicated the achievement. She won the title, yet immediately faced criticism from people who claimed she had not deserved it.
It felt like a dream came true, but at the same time, all the circumstances surrounding that were not a dream come true.
After returning to her hotel late at night, she read comments saying that the victory was unfair. Instead of enjoying the breakthrough, she was left trying to process a confusing mixture of pride, sadness and public hostility.
For a very long time, I didn’t process it because I didn’t want to.
Motherhood changed the meaning of defeat
Becoming a mother changed Osaka’s relationship with tennis and with herself. Previously, she had tied her self-worth closely to winning and losing. Tennis was not simply her profession—it was the primary measure she used to judge her own life.
I used to value my life, or what my value was as a person, on whether I won or lost.
Her daughter gave her a wider sense of perspective.
I no longer really feel like my life is over if I lose a tennis match.
Osaka was careful not to suggest that motherhood completely defines her either. Instead, it helped her recognise that there is more to her life than her ranking, results or public identity.
She also rejected the idea that her task is to become the player she once was. After returning to competition, she realised that chasing her former self was limiting her.
You were who you were, and now you’re a more beautiful, more mature version of that.
Her new focus is not only on collecting trophies. She wants to learn, meet people, understand herself better and become excited about what she could be next.
The cost of taking a break
Osaka described her mental state around the French Open break as one of shame, loneliness and emotional exhaustion. She felt she was violating the traditional expectations of athletes: hide the cracks, answer every question and keep performing regardless of the circumstances.
After withdrawing, she flew home to Los Angeles and barely left the house for one or two weeks. She ordered food and groceries rather than facing the outside world.
The Olympics changed her perception. Other athletes approached her and thanked her, revealing that her decision had helped people she did not know she was reaching.
I went from feeling very alone to not feeling so alone at all.
Her experience also exposed the unusual pressure of tennis press conferences. Unlike actors or musicians, tennis players are often asked to discuss a performance immediately before or after it happens, while still carrying the physical and emotional strain of competition.
Osaka felt that journalists increasingly treated her as a source of headlines rather than as a person.
They weren’t treating me like I was a human… It was more like, ‘Let’s ask her a question to get this one-liner or this article grab.’
That fear contributed to her becoming more guarded. Taking a break ultimately gave her the distance to separate herself from the sport and discover who she was outside it.
Rain, meditation and emotional acceptance
Osaka’s approach to mental health is grounded in acceptance rather than suppression. She listens to ocean or rain sounds, especially before major matches, because water helps her feel calm.
I don’t try to push thoughts away. I try to welcome them and not solve them, but figure out why they’re coming in abundance.
She began listening to rain sounds before her first US Open victory after noticing how peaceful rainy days made her feel. What began as an intuitive habit developed into a regular meditation practice.
Her story echoes Sabalenka’s belief that resisting difficult thoughts often makes them stronger. Both players have learned that emotional control does not necessarily mean eliminating fear. It can mean allowing fear to exist without letting it dictate the next action.
Djokovic: The pressure behind the greatness
Novak Djokovic’s story is shaped by early responsibility, family sacrifice and a deep awareness of how much his career depended on forces beyond the tennis court.
He credited the woman he called his “tennis mother” with introducing him to a holistic approach when he was a child. She showed him footage of great players, encouraged him to listen to classical music, read poetry and visualise how he wanted to play.
What began as unusual exercises for a young boy later became the foundation of his approach to performance and personal development.
Tennis is not only about hitting a tennis ball over the net and counting score.
Djokovic came to see the sport as a platform for becoming a better human being. His routine eventually expanded to include yoga, meditation, conscious breathing, visualisation, prayer and spiritual exploration.
He emphasised that these practices are not emergency tools reserved for difficult moments. They must be built consistently during good periods so they remain available during crises.
It’s a consistent practice.
The fear of not being enough
Despite everything he has achieved, Djokovic acknowledged that he still struggles with a feeling of inadequacy. Part of his motivation comes from love of tennis and a desire to inspire others. Another part comes from an older wound: the fear that he has not done enough or is not good enough.
That feeling can be traced back to his childhood in Serbia, where his family lived through war, sanctions and poverty. He recalled his father showing him the family’s remaining money—10 Deutsch marks for a family of five.
Not having success is not an option. I have to succeed. It’s basically a matter of existence, a survival of my family.
His father went to extraordinary lengths to fund his tennis, including borrowing money at extremely high interest rates. Djokovic remembered that his father once borrowed money for a trip to the United States at a 25% interest rate because banks would not lend to them.
The sacrifice became both inspiration and pressure. Djokovic understood what his parents were risking, but that awareness also made poor performances feel heavier.
He now sees his father as a hero, while recognising that the pressure of those years contributed to the internal feeling of never being enough.
There’s no money or anything that can return the favor.
Faith, the impossible win and the power of challenge
Djokovic connected his career to faith and a belief in a higher force. He pointed to matches he still cannot fully explain, including the 2019 Wimbledon final against Roger Federer.
There’s a higher spiritual force that intervenes in the most difficult moments if you open your heart, if you pray and if you believe in it.
He described struggling physically and mentally, saving match points and winning despite statistics that appeared to favour Federer.
I don’t know how I won this match.
For Djokovic, such moments combine preparation, perseverance and something more difficult to define. Prayer and spiritual practice do not replace work; they help him remain open and connected when the outcome is beyond his control.
He also admitted that elite athletes need challenges—even imagined enemies—to remain motivated. He cited Michael Jordan’s ability to create an opponent in his mind when no external rival was providing enough energy.
Djokovic learned to transform hostile crowds into motivation. During matches against Federer, when spectators shouted “Roger,” he trained himself to hear “Novak”.
I wasn’t allowing my mind to play games with me. I was using that as my own force and my own fuel.
The technique did not change reality. The crowd was still supporting Federer. But Djokovic changed the meaning he assigned to the sound, creating an internal reality that helped him compete.
I learned somehow in a hostile environment to thrive.
The shared lesson
Although Sabalenka, Osaka and Djokovic describe very different lives, their stories converge around a common idea: champions are not people without fear, grief or doubt. They are people who learn how to work with those experiences.
- Sabalenka accepts nerves instead of trying to erase them.
- Osaka refuses to let tennis remain her entire identity.
- Djokovic turns hardship, faith and hostility into sources of endurance.
- All three describe discipline as something built through repeated daily choices.
- Each has learned that recovery, solitude and emotional honesty are part of performance—not evidence of weakness.
The conversation ultimately moves beyond tennis. It asks what happens when achievement is no longer enough to define a person, and how someone builds a life that can survive both victory and defeat.
This recap is based on the interviews of Novak Djokovic, Aryna Sabalenka and Naomi Osaka on Jay Shetty’s On Purpose podcast. For the full episode, click on the YouTube link at the top or listen wherever you get your podcasts.
