Elite sport likes to tell a simple story about itself. That success is forged in pressure. That only the strongest survive. That discomfort is not just inevitable, but necessary. If you want medals, contracts, or selection, you must accept the associated costs. That we are warriors, going into battle, and all that sort of language.

For a long time, there was no room for empathy in that story. Not really.

Athletes were expected to be resilient, grateful and silent. Pain was normalised. Struggle was private. Vulnerability was something you managed carefully, if at all, because the consequences of being seen as “not coping” could be immediate and career-altering. Selection is ruthless by design. There is always someone else waiting. Competition against rivals is strengthened by the competition against your own teammates to be the one who pulls on the jersey.

In that environment, well-being was framed as a luxury — something to be addressed after retirement, injury, or breakdown. If an athlete burned out, broke down or disappeared, the system rarely asked why. It simply moved on.

The irony, of course, is that this culture did not produce healthier or more successful athletes in the long run. It produced short careers, chronic injuries, anxiety, disordered eating, and an unspoken understanding that surviving elite sport mattered almost as much as succeeding in it.

What has changed is not that elite sport has suddenly become kinder. It’s that silence has become harder to maintain.

Athletes began to speak — publicly, directly, and often painfully — about what life inside high-performance systems actually felt like. Not just the glory moments, but the isolation, the fear of deselection, the relentless judgement, the sense that your value rose and fell with your last performance.

At the same time, evidence mounted that well-being and performance are not opposing forces. Burnout, stress injuries, mental ill-health and fear-based environments don’t create sustainable excellence. They erode it. Slowly at first, then suddenly.

Faced with that reality, elite sport began to adopt the language of empathy and athlete well-being. Welfare officers were appointed. Mental health strategies were launched. Psychological safety entered the vocabulary of performance directors and coaches.

But language is the easy part.

The real test of whether there is space for empathy in elite sport is not how systems behave when athletes are winning, healthy and compliant.

It’s what happens when performance dips. When an athlete is injured. When someone says they are struggling. When the short-term pressure for results collides with the long-term duty of care.

That is where empathy is often revealed as conditional.

At its most effective, empathy in elite sport is neither soft nor sentimental. It is structural. It shows up in how training loads are managed, how injuries are treated, how athletes are spoken to after bad days, and how power is shared rather than hoarded. It exists in environments where athletes can be honest without immediately fearing consequences.

The best systems do not lower standards in the name of wellbeing. They redefine how standards are sustained. They recognise that trust, autonomy and psychological safety are not indulgences, but performance tools. They understand that an athlete who feels heard is more likely to push themselves — not less.

And yet, empathy in elite sport remains fragile.

Too often, it depends on individuals rather than structures. A good coach. A supportive performance lead. A welfare officer fighting quietly in the background. When those people move on, the culture can snap back into place remarkably quickly.

There is still a soft focus lens on what is described as ‘old school’ coaching, and the hard days are often referenced by the winners from the podium as part of what got them there.

There is also an uncomfortable hierarchy of empathy. Star athletes are afforded more understanding, more patience, more second chances. Those on the margins — developing athletes, squad players, those without leverage — still learn very quickly when it is safer to stay quiet.

This is why the question is no longer whether empathy and wellbeing have a place in elite sport. They are already there, at least rhetorically. The real question is who controls that space, and what happens when empathy becomes inconvenient.

Because elite sport will always be competitive. It will always involve pressure, judgement and consequence. That is its nature. But pressure does not require dehumanisation. High standards do not require fear. Excellence does not demand silence.

Empathy, properly understood, is not about making elite sport easier. It is about making it more honest. About recognising that athletes are operating under extraordinary demands, often from a young age, in systems that shape not just careers but identities.

Building in an acceptance that preparing someone to fail is not making that more likely, but making it easier to recover from if it happens, is an important step

If elite sport is serious about sustainability — of performance, of people, of trust — then empathy cannot be an optional extra, deployed when results allow. It has to be embedded, protected and tested precisely when the stakes are highest.

When I began a coaching journey in Gaelic Games nearly 25 years ago I was told by a coach that we would not ultimately be judged by how many cups and trophies we had won with kids along the way, but by how many of those kids were still playing the games when they got to the age of 18. That simple message stuck in our world of a community club.

But it has a lesson as well all the way up to the point of the pyramid of elite sport.

Because the ultimate measure of a high-performance system is not just what it produces, but who it leaves behind — and in what condition.

 

Image Credit: Sport for Business

 

Event Tickets

 

 

Upcoming Events

 


 

 

 

SPORT FOR BUSINESS

Sport for Business is Ireland’s leading platform focused on the commercialstrategic and societal impact of sport. It connects decision-makers across governing bodies, clubs, brands, agencies and public institutions through high-quality journalism, events and insight. Sport for Business explores how sport drives economic value, participation, inclusion and national identity, while holding organisations to account on governance and sustainability.

Through analysis, storytelling and convening the sector, it helps leaders understand trends, share best practice and make better-informed decisions. Its work positions sport not just as entertainment, but as a vital contributor to Ireland’s social and economic fabric.

Find out more about becoming a member today.

Or sign up for our twice-daily bulletins to get a flavour of the material we cover.

Sign up for our News Bulletins here.