Amanda Anisimova stunned World No.1 Aryna Sabalenka 6–4, 4–6, 6–4 in an electrifying Wimbledon semifinal that was as much about resilience as it was about power and precision. In a match filled with shot-making brilliance and raw competitive fire, it was Anisimova’s poise, timing, and emotional depth that carried her into her first Grand Slam final.

I watched it unfold from Centre Court—not only as a tennis writer, but also as a coach and former junior player who has spent a lifetime around this sport. And for me, this match carried a resonance that went far beyond rankings and statistics.

I first saw Amanda play as a junior at the US Open in 2017. Even then, her game had a rare quality—she struck the ball with purity, took it on the rise, and moved with a natural grace. She was phenomenal, and I remember thinking: she’s going to be a star. What I couldn’t have predicted was how deeply her journey would one day mirror my own.

[Tim Clayton/Getty Images]

Amanda’s father, Konstantin, died suddenly in 2019 of a heart attack. He had also been her coach. I lost my own father when I was 25, just after moving to New York to pursue a master’s in creative writing. That kind of loss carves itself into your life. It doesn’t fade—it just becomes part of how you move through the world. Watching Amanda today, holding her nerve under pressure, facing down one of the sport’s most fearsome players—she wasn’t just winning a tennis match. She was carrying something heavier, something familiar.

“It was such a tough match and a little bit of a roller coaster,” she said afterward.

“I knew that I wasn’t just going to win off of her mistakes. I really had to bring my game and do as much as I could, especially when it came to being aggressive.”

This semifinal was a match between two of the biggest hitters on tour. Sabalenka, the three-time major champion, brought her signature force and intensity. But Anisimova showed her exquisite technique and fierce calm. She took the ball early, dictated from the baseline, and deployed her gorgeous backhand—widely considered one of the most beautiful in the game—with devastating effect.

“In the third set, I knew I was going to really have to go for it,” Anisimova said. “Her level just kept increasing and getting better and better throughout the match.”

Six weeks ago in Paris, Sabalenka beat Anisimova in straight sets. But grass is different, and Anisimova arrived at Wimbledon with a career-best 11 grass-court wins behind her and the confidence of a 5–3 head-to-head advantage against the top seed.

Others had challenged Sabalenka during this fortnight, but no one tested her like this. For two hours and 37 minutes, Anisimova matched her shot for shot and then found more. Something deeper: vindication, endurance, arrival.

Seated in the Royal Box was Björn Borg, my childhood idol. As a young player, I watched him with reverence. Today, it was Anisimova with Borg-like serenity—unshaken, unhurried, untouchable in the big moments.

Just a year ago, she couldn’t get through qualifying here. Today, she’s into the Wimbledon final. “Being able to be in the top again at a career high just meant a lot to me,” she said. “The rest I just told myself I’m going to compete and enjoy every moment out there.”

For the tennis world, this is a story of comeback and talent fulfilled. For those of us who have lived through the kind of loss that leaves you shattered, it’s something more.

“When I took my break, a lot of people told me that you would never make it to the top again if you take so much time away from the game,” she said. “That was a little hard to digest because I did want to come back and still achieve a lot and win a Grand Slam one day.

“Just me being able to prove that you can get back to the top if you prioritize yourself. So that’s been incredibly special to me.”

It’s carrying on when it feels impossible—and finding beauty on the other side.