
In this interview, we chat with ALEX PADRO, a player at LMU, Class of 2026.
Alex is a tennis player whose journey has been difficult, but also incredibly inspiring—one that teaches us a lot.
He talks about dealing with pressure and overcoming obstacles to become the player he is today. He also shares how various injuries have helped him see tennis from an entirely new perspective.
Alex discusses the differences between playing college tennis and competing in individual matches. He also opens up about handling dirty matches, external pressure, and what it’s like to be part of a team.
Throughout the conversation, Alex reflects on his struggles, victories, and the valuable life lessons tennis has taught him. It’s a conversation filled with insight, honesty, and inspiration for anyone who’s faced challenges in pursuit of their dreams. We’re thrilled to have Alex as the first story in this series.
It was truly inspiring to listen to him, and I believe many of the lessons he shares will resonate with all of us.
As a Spanish tennis player who had never lived anywhere else, how was the transition from playing ITFs and national tournaments to playing college tennis?
It was a big change, especially since, from 14 to 17, I was one of the top players in Spain. My dream was always to go pro, and at 16, during COVID, I told my dad I didn’t see myself going to the U.S.—I just wanted to play professionally.
A year later, I wasn’t enjoying tennis as much, started working with a sports psychologist, and eventually considered the U.S. route. I spoke with AGM and Talito Corrales, and top universities like Georgia, Miami, and Georgia Tech showed interest. But mentally, I struggled—I didn’t fully appreciate the opportunities, my level dropped, and I got injured for five months.
Those months became a turning point. I decided to stop feeling pressured, enjoy playing again, and accept that I was going to the U.S. Then LMU reached out, and everything fell into place.
Adapting wasn’t hard once I made the decision. The toughest part was the language since I had never taken English classes. But my teammates, especially the seniors, helped me a lot, and the coaches made me feel part of the team from day one. There were also many Spaniards and Latinos, so I felt at home quickly. It was a big change, but in the end, an easy one.
Yeah, yeah. Hey man, speaking of that, when you were a junior, what happened? What do you think caused your level to drop a bit?
You were telling me that you were one of the top players in Spain, and then something affected you.
Just before quarantine, I was doing great, living in Javea and training at the Tennis Ferrer Academy. At 14, I was hitting with players ranked 300–400, competing well, and watching intense training sessions.
When quarantine hit, I decided to stay in Barcelona for my studies—I didn’t want to do online school. After lockdown, I had two or three great tournaments and an incredible preseason. I felt physically and mentally strong, and my studies were going well.
Then, a week after preseason ended, I got COVID. High fever, loss of taste and smell—ten days stuck in my room. I recovered but had a tournament in Egypt on January 25. My coaches thought it was too soon, but I insisted on going.
It was an ITF Junior (Grade 4), and it was my worst experience. I felt off, lost badly to a player I shouldn’t have, and that match changed everything. I lost confidence, started doubting myself, and struggled to find my rhythm again.
Why do you think that game affected you more than usual?
I've always given my all and loved winning. But when I was younger, I started worrying about what people thought. At 14, I wasn’t fully in the loop, but when results came, so did attention—sponsors, the Spanish team, and people talking about me.
Losing to someone I "shouldn’t" lose to started affecting me. I’d hear comments, lose another match, and the pressure would build. Back in Barcelona, I played a national tournament, lost again, and people kept talking. It got to me—I started shutting down.
In just a month, I lost motivation. I didn’t even want to train. I became obsessed with what people, my father, or sponsors thought. My dad never pressured me—he just wanted me to enjoy it—but I still felt the weight.
Joma and Wilson sponsored me at the time, and when Joma reduced my contract, I took it hard. I started working with a psychologist, but it was tough at first. Looking back, the biggest struggle was caring too much about what others thought of me.
How do you manage it now? Do you think that things can affect you nowadays?
Nowadays, it doesn’t affect me as much. I’m in a different phase—I love tennis and would love to go pro, but I see it differently now. My priority is my studies and tennis, building a solid career, and hopefully securing a good job.
I still get tense when competing, but I enjoy it more. The pressure isn’t the same as it was three or four years ago.
And how did you get to live tennis like that, to start enjoying it again, when do you think it started?
I think my injury a year and a half before college was the turning point. I was out for five months, and during that time, I started seeing a sports psychologist. Those sessions—talking about tennis and life outside of it—were key.
Not touching a racket for five months gave me a reset. Even though I never fully regained my previous level, I learned to see things differently. I realized that losing isn’t life or death—no one’s waiting off the court with a gun if I lose a match. That mindset shift, along with the psychologist’s help, made me feel much calmer.
I’m from Madrid, and when I was younger, I was among the top 10 in Madrid and top 20 in Spain at 10-12 years old. At 14, I was around 3-4 in Madrid and 20 in Spain. But, like you said, as you progress in Spanish tennis, you feel a responsibility to keep going. When the results didn’t come, I started to hate tennis, feeling like it wasn’t giving me what I deserved. I eventually left the country and things got worse. I couldn’t compete well, didn’t have the support to travel much, and my parents focused on academics. I took the academic path, had a rough time, and didn’t play tennis much.
I want to ask you about your ITF stage, though. In Spain, there are many players who never leave and still end up at great universities, finishing their junior year as 100th in Spain without playing ITFs. Why did you decide to play ITFs and leave Spain?
I played mostly ITFs because, at 15-16, I had already competed in many Spanish tournaments. It’s not that Spain felt small for me, but I was progressing—first-year cadet, then second-year—while training at an academy in Jàvea.
That’s when they told me, “Hey, you can start playing ITFs with this group. We’ll travel together for Junior events.” So I went for it. Honestly, I didn’t play that many junior tournaments, but that’s how I got into ITFs.
In fact, I was going to tell you because I saw that you did not play so many.
I didn’t play that many—maybe around 15 tournaments. When I was younger, I played more, but by my second year as a junior, I only played two. My best junior years were as a second-year cadet and first-year junior. My ranking wasn’t very high, around 390, and I never made an individual final, though I won a couple of doubles titles.
Playing ITFs was different—you leave Spain, compete against players from all over, and travel with a small group and a coach. I even played a two-week tournament in Dubai, though it didn’t go well. I usually performed better in Spain. I wouldn’t say I had a bad experience, but I didn’t fully immerse myself in ITFs either.
So you played more than anything for Spain, I imagine that you have played the Rafa Nadal, Marcas, IBPs, right?
I played Rafael Nadal Tour tournaments from 12 to 14 and did pretty well, winning a couple and reaching a few finals. During that time, I was playing at a good level and really enjoyed it.
I traveled to Seville and Madrid, saw familiar faces every couple of months, and had a great time. I also played in the Masters at the Rafa Nadal Academy twice—actually, three times. Overall, those years were an amazing experience.
Well, look, now we are going to talk about the beginning of everything, when did you start playing tennis and why?
I started playing tennis around four or five years old while spending summers with my family in Arenys de Mar, near Barcelona. I began with my older brother, who’s five years ahead of me.
At first, I only played during the summers, then switched to football at school. But by the time I was eight, I saw my brother fully committed to tennis, so I decided to follow his path. He was a member of Club Tennis Barcino, where I grew up as a player.
At eight or nine, I quit football and focused entirely on tennis, training with my father and brother. From then on, I played for Barcino’s teams and spent my entire tennis journey there.
And when did you start competing?
Around 9 or 10 years old, I played my first tournament—and got my first win—at the Valldoreix Sports Club. I even have a photo on Instagram, with my brother acting as my coach. It was on the central court of Valldoreix, making it a special first victory.
What a laugh! I can tell you later where the brand name comes from—but I also played in Valldoreix. I went there for the Nike tournaments, which used to be the Rafas. I remember that week clearly because it rained a lot. While looking for clubs in Barcelona with my coach and other kids, we ended up at Barcino. I actually trained there a couple of times, not for the tournament, just to prepare for the Nikes.
I only have good things to say about Barcino. They always treated me incredibly well—it’s a spectacular and welcoming club, with the courts nestled between buildings, creating a special atmosphere. Barcino has consistently produced great players, and to this day, they continue to do so.
The coaches there made a huge impact on me. Some were truly fundamental to my tennis career, shaping me both as a player and a person.
Hey, I'm going to ask you, you said before that you played football too, why did you decide in the end, for tennis, to say I'm going to dedicate myself to tennis?
I played football for a couple of years as an extracurricular activity at school. But around the age of 7 or 8, my brother, who was 12 or 13 at the time, was already training every day, competing, and fully dedicated to tennis. On weekends, I would sometimes go watch him play, and when we became members of Barcino, I started thinking more seriously about switching to tennis.
I already had some memories of playing when I was younger, and seeing my brother train and compete so much pushed me to make the change. Plus, I wasn’t particularly good at football. So at 8 or 9 years old, I decided to focus on tennis, largely because of my brother’s influence.
Moving closer to Barcino also played a big role. Even now, when I’m in Barcelona, I can look out from my terrace and see a couple of the courts—it all came together naturally.
Well, look, now I'm going to ask you about the games as such, you know that in the games, well, there are moments of pressure, there are moments where you get stuck, such as a tiebreaker or a third set, and I'm going to ask you how you manage those moments.
These days, I handle pressure more calmly. I still get tense and might miss a ball, but I approach it differently. Over the past few years, I’ve developed routines that help me stay positive and grounded.
For example, if I’m 2-2 in a tiebreak and lose a point, I might complain on my way to the towel, but once I’m ready to serve or return, I focus on positive thoughts. Simple routines, like only picking up an even number of balls—usually six—give me time to reset.
I try to keep pressure in perspective, knowing it shows I care about winning, but also reminding myself that my life doesn’t depend on a tennis match. Sometimes, if I have teammates around, I’ll crack a joke to lighten the mood. I also shout encouragements like “Come on!” during points to release tension and stay engaged.
Totally, man. Confidence is everything in tennis. Like you said, anyone can go through a streak of first-round losses, and tennis is all about momentum. Winning several matches in a row helps you trust yourself and your game more. But on the flip side, when you're struggling and not feeling great, how do you handle those moments? After a tough loss, when you’re not feeling good, what do you do to pull yourself out of that hole?
Do you want me to tell you about the past, now, or the present?
Let's talk about both, let’s start with the past.
Back when I was younger, I handled losses fairly well. I was always a confident player, and even when I lost at 13 or 14, while I cared about what people said, I wasn’t the type to be unreachable for hours. Maybe for ten minutes, I’d be frustrated, but then I’d be back to normal—still upset, but moving on.
Things got tougher when I started losing in early rounds more often. I’d step on court with zero confidence in myself, in my shots, and that affected everything. In tennis, it all depends on you. If you don’t trust yourself, if you’re not mentally there, your opponent will take advantage of that.
Now, I’ve learned to always bring confidence, especially in difficult moments, and to give my best no matter what. A quote that stuck with me is: You're never as bad as you think when you're playing poorly, and you're never as good as you think when you're winning. That balance is key.
When I lose, I get over it quickly—of course, I get mad, but it passes fast. And when I win, I don’t let it get to my head either. Finding that middle ground is what helps me stay consistent.
Now we are going to talk about the injury that you told me before that you got injured.
I've had quite a few injuries—I've always been someone who breaks easily. But my first major injury happened in 2021 while playing the Spanish Team Championship in Zaragoza. Looking back, it was caused by tension. I stepped onto the court, and my heart was racing like crazy, as if I was about to have a heart attack. I didn’t know how to handle the emotions or the moment. Even though I won the match 6-3, 6-1, I started feeling something in my wrist after hitting a forehand. I iced it afterward, but the next morning, I woke up with my wrist swollen like a sausage—I couldn't even move it.
I went to the doctor, and after some tests, they suggested surgery. That shocked me because I hadn't fallen or taken a hit—it didn’t make sense. In the end, I avoided surgery, but I had to get cortisone injections multiple times, and I was out for four or five months. That was tough, not just physically, but mentally too. I already had some pressure on me, and suddenly, an injury was added on top of everything. It made me doubt myself, wondering if I just had bad luck.
I've always loved playing in front of people—feeling the ball, hitting a big forehand, and hearing the crowd react. But during that time, I started dreading people watching me play. I felt tense, uncomfortable, and I even retired from matches because of the stress. My dad would look at me and be like, What’s going on? Are you OK?
When the wrist injury happened, I remember a lot of people were watching. And what hit me the most wasn’t just the pain—it was the thought of what people would think. Oh, he’s injured again. That became a pattern. I’d recover, play for a bit, then get injured again. At some point, I started feeling like people didn’t even believe me anymore. That messed with my head.
The first week after the injury was really tough, but talking to my dad and brother helped a lot. They told me, Look, this is a hard period, but use it to your advantage. Take these months to recover properly, focus on your physical health, and work on your mindset. When you come back, even if your game isn’t perfect, your mentality will be different.
And that’s exactly what happened. Working with a psychologist and going through the injury actually helped me a lot. Now, even though I still deal with minor injuries—people even joke about it—I don’t let it get to me the same way. I’ve learned to manage it better, and that’s made a huge difference.
It was great that it marked that before-and-after, and in a positive way. We sometimes forget that tennis is about competing and having fun—if you enjoy it, the results can follow. But it's tough, especially when you're at the top and feel like it's an obligation. There were times when I didn’t want to go on court, even though a part of me wanted to win. It’s that feeling of not being fully motivated.
Now, about your school years... all tennis players who dedicate themselves fully to the sport have to sacrifice a lot, whether it's friends or social life. And as you grow older, the sacrifices become more noticeable. When you're 15, 16, or 17, social things start to matter more. How did you manage it? Do you feel like you sacrificed a lot, and did you ever feel alone at some point?
I think I made this change a little early. I had been going to Bat Oliva in Barcelona all my life, just like my two older brothers. But in my first year of ESO (middle school), I made a big decision—I spent my last year at my regular school, then switched to León 13 in my second year.
León 13 is a school for athletes, and I ended up there because tennis was becoming a bigger priority. Some well-known players, like Gavi and Balde, went there too. We don’t keep in close contact, but once a year or so, we catch up.
The change wasn’t bad because studies were always a priority for me, and León 13 made it easier to balance school and training. Classes ended at 1 PM, which allowed me to train two to three hours in the afternoon. Compared to my old school, where the academic demands were much higher, this setup was better for my tennis.
But the transition was tough. I had been with the same group of friends from ages 3 to 12, and suddenly, I was in a completely new environment. At 13, I was still in our old WhatsApp group, but over time, I stopped talking as much because I wasn’t seeing them on weekends anymore. Between training, tournaments, and travel, I started feeling a little alone. It took me a while to adjust, but I managed, and I still have a great relationship with my three or four closest friends from my old school.
Another big shift happened around the second or third year when I moved from group training to one-on-one coaching. That transition was really tough. Physically, it was great, but mentally, it was brutal. I had a coach who was excellent at his job and a great guy, but we didn’t see eye to eye on the court. My attitude at the time was more difficult, and he was very demanding. We struggled to get along because we had different perspectives on training and competition. We stuck it out for a year, but in the end, we both knew it wasn’t working. We parted ways on good terms, and that’s when I decided to switch to Javier and train at the Ferrer Academy.
During those years, I definitely felt more alone. My connection with my new schoolmates at León 13 was different from what I had with my old friends. Everyone there was focused on their sport—whether it was tennis, like me, or football, like Gavi and Balde. We studied together, but outside of school, we didn’t really have a social connection. It was a necessary step for my tennis, but it wasn’t always easy.
Of course, and now that you mention that you were in that academy and such, I imagine that then you were away from home, you were not with your parents at that time and you have told me that your father and your brother were a great support during your life, how was it that you were not with them and how was the support they gave you since it was not like before?
Honestly, leaving wasn’t difficult for me at all. In fact, my dad was the one who was more worried. He kept asking, "Are you sure? What if you don’t feel comfortable?" My dad tends to overthink these things, but that’s just because he cares a lot about me, my brother, and my sister. Out of all of us, I’ve probably given him the most headaches—mostly because of tennis.
He was a little scared at first, but he always tried to stay positive, telling me it would go well. And in the end, it really did. The transition was easy—like, really easy. I moved to live with a family near London, a British family that my dad arranged for me to stay with, partly so I could learn English and socialize in a new environment. I got along super well with them. They had three daughters, and I became especially close with one of them, who’s a year older than me. We still have an amazing relationship—she’s in college at Stetson now.
Even though I’m a family-oriented person, moving away from home never really scared me. What scares me more is the unknown—the future. When I move somewhere new, I don’t really stress about missing my family (even though, of course, I do). My bigger fear is always, "Will I fit in? How will things go for me?" But all these moves—first to Valencia when I was younger, now to Los Angeles—haven’t affected me as much as I thought they would. I’ve learned to adapt quickly. It was super good, honestly. Thank God, it didn’t affect me. Everything went great.
Now, about university... you told me about your career playing for yourself, looking for your own results. In other interviews, many people have mentioned that playing university tennis is very different from ITF tournaments or individual competitions. They feel that university tennis ends up being almost a team sport, which is interesting because tennis is usually an individual game. Do you feel that way too?
College tennis is completely different—the pressure, the environment, everything. A lot of players who were top 30 or top 50 juniors come to the U.S. thinking it’ll be the same as what they’ve always known. But then they get here, realize they can’t compete at the same level, and struggle to find their game again.
For me, it was definitely a shock at first. My freshman year, I didn’t play much—just five or six singles matches—but I quickly saw how different the atmosphere was. Luckily, my teammates prepared me for it. They told me straight up, "This isn’t like a regular tournament where you travel with your dad, he coaches you, and only a few people are watching. Here, your opponents' teammates will be right behind you, screaming at you, insulting you, telling you you’re terrible, mocking you for being Spanish, saying you’re going to lose."
And that’s not even the worst part. The referees? They’re not great. There’s a lot of bad calls, people trying to get away with anything they can, and some players who will do whatever it takes to win—even if it means making the match messy.
It was a big adjustment, but it didn’t take me long to get used to it. Since I didn’t play much my first year, I had time to observe and understand what was happening. By my second year, when I did play more, I already knew exactly what to expect. Once I got into it, I actually felt comfortable. I even started enjoying the intensity—screaming, getting hyped, feeding off my teammates' energy. And when opponents’ fans tried to get in my head, I’d just look at them and honestly… I didn’t care at all. Some players let it affect them, but for me, it didn’t really matter.
The energy in college tennis is just different from anything else in the sport.
Yeah, exactly, what you mentioned about how they dirty the games a lot. I’ve seen plenty of videos and highlights on Instagram, and sometimes there’s news about outrageous ball calls.
Has that happened to you? Do you have any experience where you thought, "My god, this feels like a completely different sport, I have to approach matches in a whole new way"?
It’s a shame that at LMU, not many people come to watch us, but when we play elsewhere, we do get some support. Still, the worst part is when the game gets dirty. You can tell when someone’s trying to mess with you—like when the coach warns you, "Don’t engage with this guy; nothing good is going to come from it." You know they’re going to do everything they can to beat you, and it’s happened to me in many matches.
One thing that stands out is the scoring system here, especially in tiebreaks where every point counts as a "golden" point. There are no advantages, and sometimes the referees will suddenly make a correction. I’ve had matches where they’ve questioned nearly every ball I’ve called out. They’ll give me a look, and then they’ll say, "Okay, if you want to play like this, we’ll play like this," and then they’ll steal the next point. It’s frustrating, because almost every match, something happens that makes it feel like the game isn’t on the level.
As a player, I’m not benefiting from these kinds of games, but some players thrive in this kind of environment. When they take you out of your game and pull you into their chaotic rhythm, it can throw you off. But after three years, I’ve learned to deal with it. Now, I know if they steal a point from me, the best chance I’ve got is to steal the next one right back. I don’t like playing that way because I prefer to keep everything fair, but I’ve seen enough to know that sometimes you have to play the game as it’s given to you.
Exactly, if you give them an inch, they'll take a mile. It’s that kind of player mentality.
Alright, now to wrap it up, let’s talk about tennis in general and how it’s shaped you as a person. People who have played and competed in this sport definitely view life differently from those who haven’t. If you had to summarize what tennis has taught you personally, what would you say are the main lessons it’s given you?
I’ve grown up with tennis, and since I was little, it’s shaped who I am. The person I am today, my attitudes—everything—has been influenced by tennis. It’s about always striving for more, always pushing myself to go further, and sometimes overthinking things, like in a tennis match when you’re tied at 3-3 and feel overwhelmed, trying to figure out what to do next. Tennis taught me to plan, to think ahead, and to approach everything with intention.
What tennis has given me, besides the skills and mindset, are friendships and experiences, and coaches who I’ve seen as second parents. These experiences are a huge part of who I am. I’d say tennis has shaped me more than anything, but of course, family and friends have also been a big influence. Lately, especially in the past few years, tennis has taught me to enjoy life a little more, to value the small things—things that before I didn’t pay much attention to.
Now, I appreciate things like going to the beach, surfing, or hanging out with friends. Spending time with my girlfriend when she visits me in Los Angeles, just being calm and present in the moment—those are the small details that I’ve come to value the most.
Well, man, super good. Look, last question, then I have two more, but they are more out of curiosity. The last one is, if you could say something to yourself as a child, it can already be starting tennis or it can be with 15-16, what advice would you give or motivation to change something or in general to motivate you?
My advice would be, honestly, I wouldn’t change anything about what I’ve done because I believe things happen for a reason. But if I had to give advice, I’d say, enjoy the journey. Stop stressing so much about winning or losing—yes, it’s important, but there are more important things in life. Like I said before, no one’s going to be waiting for you with a gun after a match if you lose or win. So, enjoy it. Take advantage of the opportunities you have, always with respect for everyone, but above all, just enjoy playing with a calm mindset. Losing won’t kill you, nothing bad will happen if you lose, so stay calm and don’t overthink it all.
I totally agree, I think I would say the same thing to myself as a child.
To me as a child, maybe it is useful for another person to say something else, but to me as a child it is that for sure.
Of course, I think I would also go between those lines. Then two last questions that are more out of curiosity, which are more like Fun Fact Questions, what would you prefer to win a Grand Slam or be number one in the world? And which one would you choose?
Winning a Grand Slam. Because I think being number one in the world is incredible—obviously, everyone wants to be number one—but winning a Grand Slam is something else. I can’t imagine being number one without having won a Slam; that would feel like the worst number one in history.
So, if I had to choose, I’d rather win a Grand Slam than be number one in the world. And if I could pick one, it would be Wimbledon. Even though I’ve never played on grass in my life and I’m better on clay than on hard courts, I’d still say Wimbledon first, then Roland Garros.
I have not played in grass in my life either, someday.
I hope so, but I have never played, but I like the story that Wimbledon has and playing everything in white, I would love it.
It has to be, yes. In the end, it’s like winning in the cradle of tennis—it must be a different feeling, I agree.
I have never had an idol, I have had several players who have marked me a little and I would tell you Rafa, Rafa Del Potro, I have always liked them since I was little, and Djokovic.
Why Del Potro? That seems curious to me. Normally, the answers that I received have always been generic, they have been Djokovic, Rafa, Roger ...
Let’s see, when it comes to the top 3—Rafa, Federer, and Djokovic—I take different things from each of them. But I’ve never been a fan of Federer, I’ve never had a number one fan. For me, it’s always been Rafa. I’ve always liked Del Potro a lot. I saw him in interviews and followed him closely. I also had a really good relationship with Djokovic and always liked his game.
What I loved about Del Potro was his forehand; it was like a hammer, and I’ve always admired it. He also had a great sense of humor, always joking around, and I enjoyed watching him for that. He wasn’t my idol, but he was definitely someone I looked up to. Another player I would mention is Wawrinka.
Yes, I love Wawrinka too, he is a monster, I think he was ranked 3rd in the world, but the bastard is going to retire with three Grand Slams, which is very enviable for many people.
I prefer to have won three Grand Slams and not be number one in the world, to the question before.
100%, having those three trophies in your house must be the best.