In the world of sports, legacy is often a straight line—a son following a father onto the football pitch, a daughter picking up a racquet after a champion mother. For Iga Świątek, the world's former number one and a dominant force in women's tennis, the narrative of athletic inheritance is there, but it takes a fascinating and unexpected detour through the Han River and the 1988 Seoul Olympics.
While the powerful groundstrokes and relentless intensity are uniquely Iga’s, the champion’s mindset, she reveals, is a family trait—one forged not on the clay courts of Roland-Garros, but in the disciplined, synchronized world of Olympic rowing.
The connection begins with Tomasz Świątek, Iga’s father. Long before he became known as the father of a tennis phenom, he was an elite athlete in his own right. A skilled oarsman, Tomasz dedicated years of his life to the grueling sport of rowing, a pursuit of perfect synergy, brute strength, and unwavering endurance. His prowess in the boat was so exceptional that it earned him a spot on the Polish national team and the ultimate honor: representing his country at the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea.
There, on the world's grandest athletic stage, Tomasz Świątek competed in the Men's Quadruple Sculls event. It was a moment of immense pride, the culmination of a lifetime of sacrifice and training—a feeling his daughter would come to know intimately decades later on tennis courts around the globe.
For Iga, this family history is not just a fun fact; it’s a foundational part of her identity as an athlete. She has often spoken about the immense influence her father has had on her career, not as a tennis coach, but as a mentor in mentality.
"The pressure I feel on court, my dad felt it too in Seoul," Iga has reflected in interviews. "Tennis is an individual sport and rowing is a team boat, but the Olympic spirit, the pressure of representing your country, the need for extreme focus—it’s the same. We talk about it. He understands what it takes to perform at the highest level because he’s been there."
The lessons were absorbed not through lecture, but through osmosis. From her father, Iga learned the value of a strong work ethic, the importance of sportsmanship, and the psychological fortitude required to navigate the highs and lows of competition. The discipline of a 4 a.m. training session on a freezing Polish river is a language both father and daughter speak fluently.
This creates a profound and beautiful full-circle moment. Whenever Iga’s career takes her to Seoul—a city that looms large in her family's lore—it is more than just another stop on the WTA tour. It is a pilgrimage.
"Seoul feels different to me," she has admitted. "Walking around the city, knowing my dad was here decades ago, chasing his own dream… it’s incredibly special. It connects me to him and to that Olympic legacy. It’s a reminder that my journey is part of a larger story."
So, while the weaponized forehand and the deft drop shot are Iga’s own creations, the engine behind them—the relentless drive, the competitive fire, the champion's heart—runs in the bloodline. It’s a champion's mentality that was first tested on the waters of Seoul in 1988, a legacy passed from father to daughter, from oar to racquet, proving that the path to greatness, though never linear, is often a family affair.