ACROSS THE COUNTRY
Miami Has a Padel ‘Obsession’
Residents who love fitness and socializing — and can afford to play — cannot get enough of padel, the racket sport with international cachet.
WHY WE’RE HERE
We’re exploring how America defines itself one place at a time. Miami is a city whose language and culture are more akin to Latin America and Europe than to the rest of the United States, making it a perfect hub for the racket sport padel.
Visuals by Scott McIntyre
Patricia Mazzei, who reported from Miami, has played squash and tennis but tried padel only once.
At least once a week, María Mercedes Ortega, a 32-year-old real estate agent and spa owner, puts on a stylish ensemble and meets up with her girlfriends. Not to go bar hopping or clubbing, diversions she says she left behind in her 20s, but to play padel, Miami’s trendiest sport.
Yes, it’s a satisfying workout — “It’s great for the legs,” she said. But just as important, padel is “a very high-level social activity,” as Ms. Ortega put it.
Many of the city’s well-heeled and wellness inclined have developed a fervor for padel, the racket sport that is easier than tennis, harder than pickleball and more exclusive than both. Indoor and outdoor padel courts, with their signature glass walls, are proliferating in warehouses, parks, former parking lots. There are courts at the Ritz-Carlton in Key Biscayne, and plans for some on the roof of a garage in Miami Beach. A $2 billion development underway in Midtown boasts that it will include the nation’s largest padel club.
Padel, pronounced PAH-del from pádel, its name in Spanish, was born in Mexico and popularized in Spain and Argentina. With its Hispanic roots and international cachet, it has proved perfect for Miami, a city more akin in its language and culture to Latin America and Europe than to the rest of the United States. More often than not, the players who pack South Florida’s padel courts speak to each other in Spanglish.
Like many Miamians, padel “immigrated here,” said Javier Colberg, a 39-year-old real estate agent from Puerto Rico, who was playing on a recent morning at the Wynwood Padel Club, north of downtown.
Padel’s worldwide boom began during the coronavirus pandemic. Much of the United States was becoming enthralled with pickleball, but Miami was a little different.
Justin Mandel, who was playing with Mr. Colberg and two others at 7 a.m. to beat the heat, moved to Miami Beach from New York during the pandemic. When a buddy told him he should try padel, he promptly did, he said, because in Miami, “everybody is absolutely following what the cool kids are doing.”
Padel was a better workout than pickleball and did not aggravate his tennis elbow. The sport’s doubles format helped him build a friend circle. Now, he plays two to three times a week.
“This has been the single most life-changing addition to our respective lives,” said Mr. Mandel, 40, who runs a recruiting firm. “It is quite the obsession for people, and it doesn’t seem to be going away.”
Sergio Montaner, an investment banker and entrepreneur who owns the Wynwood club, said the business struggled before the pandemic. But once people could not travel because of the virus, they were forced to look for new athletic and social outlets, he said.
“Miami is a city where many people do not have family,” said Mr. Montaner, who is from Spain. “Padel is the best venue to meet people.”
Taking up the sport will cost you. On a recent evening, an indoor court reservation at Reserve Miami at SoLé Mia, perhaps the most expensive club in town, was going for $264; an outdoor reservation was $168. The price is usually split among four players.
Ultra Padel Club in Miami’s Little Haiti neighborhood invited singles to play a recent Friday night tournament where they would be matched with other single players. “Dress cute,” the club advised on Instagram.
The Wynwood club has a live music stage and an indoor cafe for players to linger over cortados and croquetas. Ms. Ortega sat at a table on a recent morning with two of her friends, all dressed in white. They love taking photos on the court, leading their coach to joke that they should arrive half an hour early to pose. Sometimes, they do.
“When I put things about padel in my Instagram, everybody says, ‘Oh my goodness, you’re so cute, I want a date with you,’” Ms. Ortega said.
Estefania Inurritegui, a 30-year-old events manager who lives in Key Biscayne, was participating in a clinic at the Wynwood club one summer morning. Her boyfriend had nudged her to play.
“There’s so many new places now,” said Ms. Inurritegui, who is from Peru.
Perhaps too many, Mr. Montaner said. He described some investors’ mind-set as, “‘Oh, there’s an empty plot, let’s build a padel court.’” But Miami real estate is so expensive, he said, that “leases can drown” fledgling businesses.
“If you are not capable of creating a community — not just set up some courts in a parking lot — then it may not be successful,” said Mr. Montaner, who is opening another club in the Miami suburb of West Kendall.
A key to growing the sport has been getting Americans to play and to see investing in courts as profitable, said Marcos Del Pilar, an Orlando-based padel consultant who founded a league and is a former president of the United States Padel Association.
“It’s not a Latin sport any longer,” said Mr. Del Pilar, who is from Spain.
Credited with spreading the padel gospel in Miami is Wayne Boich, an energy and real estate entrepreneur from Ohio. He liked the sport so much after first playing in Europe in 2013 that he changed the plans for the house he was building in Miami Beach to include a court for padel instead of tennis. He invited over friends to play and watch professional exhibitions.
Eventually, he saw a business opportunity and started Reserve Padel, a network of high-end clubs in Miami and New York, in 2022. He also owns a company that builds courts for clients across the country. Last year, Mr. Boich cut a deal with the world’s No. 1 padel player, Arturo Coello of Spain, to move to Miami.
“Whether it’s padel or pickleball or tennis,” he said, “you have a generation of folks now that are really trending more toward health and wellness, as we all know, and community.”
Mr. Boich’s newest local club, Reserve Miami at SoLé Mia, is part of a huge development of condos and businesses in North Miami. Its indoor courts have high ceilings, noise insulation and a powerful air-conditioning system. The club also has cold plunges, a spirit-stocked bar and Diptyque toiletries in its members-only locker room; at Reserve, memberships vary by club and start at $500 per month.
Some members spend the day at the club, taking calls and sending emails between matches, said Jack Corbett, its sports director. Others have set up a studio to record a podcast about — what else? — padel.
“They’ll play until we kick them out,” Mr. Corbett said.
Making padel more accessible is “hugely important to the overall popularity of this sport,” Mr. Boich acknowledged.
At least three public parks have padel courts in Miami-Dade County. They, too, fill up after 5:30 p.m. with fanatics. (And they, too, charge a lot, though less than private clubs.)
One recent evening drew five friends to the Ives Estates Tennis Center, a public park in northern Miami-Dade County. Gustavo Spadavecchia, 57, was recovering from a knee injury; the other four figured one of them could take his place on the court if he needed a break.
His wife, Rossana Spadavecchia, 58, once competed in a padel world championship. Andrea Comolli, another friend in the group, said her sons, who are now adults, once competed in a junior world championship in Mexico. Back then, Ms. Comolli recalled, no one at her boys’ school knew what padel was.
Ms. Comolli, 50, her husband and two other couples co-owned a padel club in South Florida for a few years, trying to recreate the experience from their native Argentina. Families exercised, played cards and hung out at their club, often late into the night and accompanied by a traditional asado, or barbecue.
But the pandemic forced the indoor club to close for an extended period, and the couples sold it. Mr. Spadavecchia, with the recovering knee, said he still enjoyed playing in the evening and then joining friends for a late dinner.
“My family from New Jersey comes to visit, and they cannot understand how late we’ll stay out on a Wednesday night,” he said with a laugh. “Miami is not like other parts of the United States.”
Kitty Bennett contributed research.
Patricia Mazzei is the lead reporter for The Times in Miami, covering Florida and Puerto Rico.
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