He is still my father. He is still a person I know I could trust

Hear the words of Martina Hingis, once the young queen of the courts, who spoke of the rare treasure of loyalty in a world crowded with ambition: “He is still my father. He is still a person I know I could trust and he would never do anything against me. Once you’re at the top, there are not many people like that. People always want something from you.” In this testimony, we hear not only the voice of a daughter but the cry of one who has lived the loneliness of greatness. For at the heights of fame, true trust becomes more precious than gold.

The meaning here is profound. Hingis reminds us that when one rises to the top, whether in sport, politics, or fortune, the circle of genuine hearts often shrinks. Admirers become seekers, companions become rivals, and strangers approach not for friendship but for gain. Yet in this shifting tide, the figure of the father—steady, loyal, unshaken—remains a sanctuary of trust. He does not seek advantage, he does not betray, he loves simply because she is his child. In such love lies the rare refuge of safety.

The origin of this sentiment lies in Hingis’s own life as a prodigy, thrust into the global spotlight before she was grown. With talent came victory, with victory came wealth, and with wealth came the eyes of the world—some watching with admiration, others with envy. Surrounded by millions, yet alone in trust, she knew the truth that many who taste fame discover: trust at the summit is scarce. Her words are not complaint but recognition of a universal truth—that when crowns are heavy, the heart longs for those few who love us without condition.

History too reveals this loneliness at the heights. Consider Alexander the Great, whose empire stretched from Greece to India. Surrounded by generals, counselors, and kings, he discovered again and again that loyalty was rare. Friends plotted, allies betrayed, and each sought his own advantage. In his final days, it is said that Alexander grieved not the loss of land, but the loss of trust, for he could not name even one man to whom he could entrust his empire without doubt. His tale, like Hingis’s words, teaches that greatness magnifies both honor and isolation.

O children of tomorrow, learn this: the higher you rise, the fewer will stand beside you in sincerity. Success draws crowds, but many in the crowd come not to give, but to take. Do not be blinded by the smiles of those who only seek benefit from your fortune. Instead, guard and cherish the rare souls—like the father Hingis praises—who love without seeking, who support without demanding, who remain steady whether you rise or fall. These are the pillars upon which your life must rest.

Reflect also upon your own life. Perhaps you are not at the summit of fame, yet even in smaller circles, you know the truth: there are those who befriend you for advantage, and there are those who love you for who you are. Have you discerned the difference? Have you cherished the latter, or have you allowed them to be drowned out by the clamor of the former? Hingis’s words remind us to treasure the bonds of trust, to recognize them as rare jewels in a world where self-interest often reigns.

The lesson is clear: seek out and hold fast to the people who desire nothing from you but your presence, your well-being, your joy. Be wary of those who flatter when you succeed and vanish when you stumble. Build your life not upon applause, but upon relationships of trust and integrity. And in turn, strive to be such a person yourself—to love others not for gain, but for who they are.

So let Hingis’s words be remembered: “Once you’re at the top, there are not many people like that.” May you rise with humility, may you guard your heart with wisdom, and may you always honor the rare and sacred bonds—like that of a child and a faithful father—that remain true no matter how high you ascend. For in the end, these bonds are worth more than any crown.