¡Por favor, deténganse, se los ruego! With tears in her eyes and her voice broken by helplessness, Virginia Garfia Escandón, mother of Carlos Alcaraz, became the protagonist of one of the most human and moving scenes in the world of tennis in 2025. After her son’s tough defeat in the Paris Masters, it was not the mistakes on the court that destroyed her, but the cruel and inhuman treatment that the young Spanish champion received off it.
Virginia, a woman known for her discretion and strength, broke her silence in an exclusive interview with the Spanish press. “I cried all night, not because of the defeat, but because of what my son is experiencing,” she confessed. In recent days, Carlos Alcaraz would have received hate messages and anonymous calls in the early morning, in which he was insulted with hurtful words such as:“You are a failure, a spoiled child, quit tennis once and for all.”
According to the player’s mother, this wave of harassment began just after Carlos’ elimination in the round of 16 of the Paris tournament, a result that, for many, did not live up to the expectations placed on him. However, few imagined the emotional price that the young man would have to pay. “People forget that behind the athlete there is a person. My son is only 22 years old, he feels, suffers and, sometimes, also doubts himself,” Virginia added with a lump in her throat.
The testimony quickly went viral. Thousands of sports fans and personalities reacted with empathy to the words of a mother who simply asked for humanity. Among them, Rafael Nadal published a message of support on social networks: “Carlos does not owe anything to anyone. He has already demonstrated his greatness on the court and off it. He deserves respect.”
The situation took an even more tense tone when it was leaked that, during a private conference, Virginia had received threatening calls even in her own home. Far from responding with anger, he chose a nobler path: that of truth and compassion. “I’m not looking for someone to blame,” he said, “I just ask that they let him live, let him breathe. Hatred doesn’t build anything.”
However, what really shook everyone were eight words that Virginia spoke at the end of the interview, looking directly into the camera:
“A child’s pain is not negotiable.”
That phrase resonated deeply in the sports community. It was a reminder that success and fame do not shield athletes from human suffering. Carlos Alcaraz, despite his talent and maturity on the court, is still a young man who carries the pressure of representing an entire nation, of being the “new Nadal,” and of facing the almost impossible expectations that the public and the media have built around him.
Sources close to the player’s environment confirmed that Carlos has been working with a sports psychologist to manage media pressure. “Carlos is strong, but he is still human. He is learning to tune out external noise,” revealed a member of his technical team.
On social networks, the hashtag #FuerzaCarlos became a global trend in a matter of hours. Thousands of messages flooded the internet, showing love and solidarity towards the young champion. Some fans even organized a campaign under the slogan “Respect also wins games,” seeking to raise awareness about the effects of digital harassment on athletes.
Carlos Alcaraz himself, faithful to his reserved character, limited himself to publishing a simple phrase on X (Twitter):
“Thank you to those who believe in me, even when I fall.”
His message was interpreted as a show of resilience and maturity. But behind those brief words was an echo of the pain her mother had described: the weight of being a public figure in an era when social media can elevate or destroy just as quickly.
The story of Virginia and Carlos has transcended sports. It has opened a profound debate about the limits of fanaticism and the need to protect the mental health of athletes. It is not just about winning titles, but about preserving the human essence in an increasingly unforgiving environment.
As the world of tennis continues its calendar, one thing remains clear: a mother’s tears have done more to raise awareness than a thousand institutional speeches. And perhaps, in that pain, a lesson in empathy that sport urgently needed was born.
At the end of the interview, Virginia wiped away her tears and, with a firm voice, said one last phrase that was engraved in everyone’s hearts:
“They can criticize his game, but never his soul.”
A phrase that, beyond the field, summarizes what it means to be human, to be a son, and to continue fighting for dignity, even in the midst of the noise of the world.
