Sometimes I think Mallorca brought me to padel. Or maybe it was padel that helped me understand Mallorca better. I am not exactly sure. What I do know is that there are paths you do not plan too much, but they end up changing you more than you expected. And for me, padel has been one of those paths.

When I started playing, it was not love at first sight. I came from basketball and running, two sports that had shaped the way I moved and understood competition: running, jumping, defending, reacting quickly, holding on physically and pushing a little further when your legs start to complain. I thought adapting to padel would only be a matter of time, but then I picked up a racket, stepped onto the court and discovered that this sport had its own language.

The court was small, but to me it felt huge. The ball bounced off the glass and I did not know whether I had to move forwards, backwards or simply apologise. It took me a long time to understand the rebounds, to wait, not to rush and to accept one of the phrases you hear most at the beginning: “let it pass.” Let it pass? I came from basketball. In my head, if a ball came towards me, I had to go for it.

At the beginning, I felt clumsy, and there was one phrase that stayed with me. Someone I cared about, and who was the person who introduced me to this world, once told me that I was not good enough for padel. That nobody would want to play with me. I do not say this with resentment, but because it was one of those phrases that hurts, yet can also become fuel. Sometimes others only see your starting point, not your ability to improve.

And I did have something on my side. I had desire, discipline and a sporting background that came from many years before. Basketball and running had not taught me how to hit a bandeja, but they had given me agility, speed, reflexes, endurance and a competitive mindset. Abilities that perhaps were not so visible at first, because I was too busy trying to survive the glass, but they were there.

Little by little, something began to change. I started to read the court better, run less, position myself better and understand that in padel, the winner is not always the person with the most power, but the one who makes better decisions. I learned that keeping one more ball in play can be worth more than a spectacular shot, that defending well is also a way of attacking and that improvement does not always happen all at once. Sometimes it happens quietly: one day you return a ball you used to miss, another day you understand a corner rebound, another day someone wants to play with you.

In just over a year, I won my first fourth-division tournament. And it was not the only one. I do not say this as if it were a great sporting achievement, but because for me it meant much more than winning a tournament. It meant proving to myself that I could do it. That a negative phrase does not define your path. That starting late does not mean arriving late. And that padel, like life, also rewards those who keep going.

Padel has taught me much more than how to play. It has taught me to challenge myself, to be patient, to put one more ball back when the point seems lost and to communicate better, because you play with a partner and you cannot go your own way all the time. It has also taught me to manage frustration, to apologise, to encourage, to trust and to understand that making mistakes is part of the game.

It is also a sport that trains the mind. In padel, you have seconds, or even milliseconds, to decide whether to defend, attack, play a lob, go cross-court, take a risk or simply return one more ball. And in some way, that is very similar to life. You cannot always control the ball that comes your way, but you can decide how to respond.

Padel also develops very complete physical abilities: coordination, reflexes, agility, balance, reaction speed, endurance and mobility. But it also works on mental skills such as concentration, strategy, patience, decision-making, communication and confidence. Perhaps that is why it is so addictive. Because you do not only feel that you are training your body; you are also training your mind.

I have always liked to think that doing sport is a way of taking care of yourself. Not only to compete or to stay in shape, but because sport brings order inside you.

And then there is Mallorca. This island I arrived on without knowing it would become such an important part of my story. Mallorca has given me light, the sea, calm, friendships, new stages and a different way of experiencing time. But it also gave me padel, or at least the perfect setting to find it. Here, sport is lived very much outdoors, terraces are part of the clubs and after playing there is always a conversation, a coffee, a meal, a beer, a walk or a plan that appears without being too organised.

For me, playing padel in Mallorca is not just about stepping onto a court. It is the morning light, the sound of the ball against the glass, the coach who corrects exactly what you did not want to hear, the teammate who encourages you when you miss, the opponent who later becomes a friend and the terrace after the match. It is Palma, the sea, the coves, the gastronomy and that feeling that here, sport and life mix in a very natural way.

If someone had told me at the beginning that the sport I found so hard to understand would end up inspiring a project like Grip and Trip, I probably would have laughed. Or I would have thought: “first, let me understand the glass.” But that is what happened. Padel came into my life in Mallorca and little by little became much more than a sport: a way to connect with people, to challenge myself, to discover the island from another perspective and to understand that trips can also be experienced from a court.

Grip and Trip was born from that mix: from my passion for Mallorca, from my story with padel and from everything this sport has taught me. From the idea that a sports experience can be much more than training or playing matches. It can be a way to grow, share, travel, laugh, trust yourself more and return home with something inside that does not fit in a suitcase.

Sometimes destiny brings you to a place. Sometimes it puts a racket in your hand. And sometimes, without realising it, both things become part of the same story. Mine began in Mallorca. And it is still continuing on court.