It was the third set of a quarterfinal match at Wimbledon last week. Grigor Dimitrov, of Bulgaria, had taken the first two sets from Italian Jannik Sinner, the number one player in the world.

Shortly after beginning to serve, Dimitrov grimaced in pain and abruptly slumped to the ground, holding his right pectoral muscle below his shoulder, crying, “My pec, my pec.” His expression conveyed the seriousness of the injury. Disconcerted at this turn of events, Sinner didn’t hesitate to cross the court and squat next to his opponent, offering whatever support he could.

It took some minutes for medical assistance to arrive. With Sinner supporting him, Dimitrov was assisted to his courtside chair where his range of motion, strength and sensitivity to touch were evaluated by the medical team. Concluding that he would need further evaluation, the medical team escorted Dimitrov off the court in tears as the Wimbledon crowd applauded his resolve to try to continue.

Sinner went to his chair and solemnly put on his warm-up jacket and sat down to await the outcome of the examination. I suspect he, and the crowd, anticipated an affirmation of Dimitrov’s own diagnosis of a pectoral muscle issue, most probably a match-ending tear.

When Dimitrov reappeared, he stoically let the chair umpire and Sinner know that he indeed had to retire, and that Sinner would, therefore, be awarded the match in a “walkover,” the polite English term for a forfeit. It was the latest of a series of injuries suffered by Dimitrov in his career.

Arms around each other, Sinner and Dimitrov walked off the court to the cheers and applause of the sympathetic crowd. Sinner returned to collect his paraphernalia, and sheepishly interrupted his exit for the obligatory interview by the media.

To the obvious question about how he felt about this win, Sinner immediately refused that characterization, instead responding: “I don’t take this a a win at all. This is just a very unfortunate moment to witness for all of us.”

By thus removing any notion of a celebratory conversation, Sinner offered his hope for Dimitrov’s quick recovery. He followed this exchange by leaving the court after offering young fans perfunctory autographs, only to return, two days later, to become the 2025 Wimbledon men’s champion.

I recount this incident for what it represents in this unsettling time.

Here, one human being openly displayed compassion and concern for another, albeit an opponent, in an almost biblical example of empathy. There was no glory to be taken from the typical vanquishing in a healthy competition. This simple, heartfelt reaction offered, to me, reassurance of the goodness that resides within us, or to use the phrase of one president in his first inaugural address, of “the better angels of our nature.”