Brother’s struggles inspire Stanford golfer Valenzuela.
Inspired by her sibling’s battle with autism, Stanford’s Valenzuela among top amateurs
“He made me more mature a little quicker. I had to understand things a normal 13or 14- year- old doesn’t have to understand.”
Albane Valenzuela, a Stanford women’s golfer, on her younger brother, Alexis, who was diagnosed with autism as an infant
More than two years ago, as she prepared to write the essays on her Stanford application, Albane Valenzuela reached the prompt asking prospective students to describe a person who had a significant impact on their life. Valenzuela needed no time to choose her subject. She wrote about her younger brother, Alexis, who was diagnosed with autism as an infant. He barely talked at all in his first five years — and now, at 16, he speaks three languages and hopes to follow his sister in landing a college scholarship to play golf. “It’s just a miracle, there’s no other way to put it,” Albane said. Valenzuela, 20, spoke this week at Stanford’s practice facility as she prepared for the NCAA championships in Stillwater, Okla.
This time, Alexis ( pro- nounced A- lex- ee) Valenzuela is not there to support his sister in person — he’s a high school sophomore back home in Geneva, Switzerland. But he has played a distinctive, instrumental role in Albane’s rise to fourth in the women’s world amateur ranking.
She finished second in the U. S. Women’s Amateur and European Ladies Amateur last summer, both times with Alexis as her caddie. They smiled and giggled their way around the course, sharing a bond deeper than golf.
This traces to their uncommon childhood, in many ways. Albane recalled eagerly wanting to play with her little brother soon after he was born, but she couldn’t for a long time. He did his own thing and seldom interacted with her, a byproduct of his condition.
Alexis was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at age 3. Doctors told his parents he might never speak and could not attend a regular school. Albane remembered the hurtful things other kids said about her brother — calling him “weird” and “different,” among other things — and Alexis, in an email exchange, acknowledged the comments stung.
But his perseverance and progress, through years of therapy, had a profound impact on Albane. That’s why she told his story in her Stanford essay, detailing how his experience taught her empathy — to be understanding of the differences in people, as she put it — and prompted her to become a perfectionist, to counter Alexis’ struggles.
“It really created both aspects of my personality, to be very positive and also more aware of life’s realities,” she said. “He made me more mature a little quicker. I had to understand things a normal 13or 14- year- old doesn’t have to understand.”
Albane was born in New York, moved to Mexico City at age 1 and then Geneva at 5. Her dad, Alberto, is Mexican and
her mom, Diane, is French; the family moved to Switzerland because of a job opportunity for Alberto, a banker.
For several years, young Alexis barely communicated with his parents and sister. He mumbled “water” or “milk” or “apple juice” when he was thirsty, and “McDonald’s” when he was hungry. He loved fast- food burgers, as Albane remembered with a chuckle.
He didn’t string together words or sentences for several years. Autistic kids crave routine and order, so the slightest disruption — such as the time the family abruptly changed vacation plans — sent him spinning in anxiety.
This left Albane at once frustrated and worried about her brother. She always wanted a dog, but Alexis was terrified of animals when he was younger. He screamed and refused to eat in the kitchen if Ayrton, a border terrier, was there.
Doctors advised the family to give up the dog, but Albane’s parents decided to keep him. And, ultimately, Ayrton helped bring Alexis out of his shell.
“My biggest emotion was the first time I saw a light in his eyes, when he finally realized the presence of his dog and started connecting with him,” Diane Valenzuela wrote in an email this week. “That was the first step out of his own world and a moment I will never forget!”
Family support, an understanding Catholic school and constant work with therapists fueled Alexis’ slow improvement over the years. Diane called his teachers, therapists and psychologists her “Dream Team.”
Today, at 16, Alexis speaks French, English and Spanish. He’s social enough to approach cute girls, as his sister said, and strike up a conversation. And he’s confident enough to stand in front of his class to talk about his extraordinary journey.
Alexis also did that in a Golf Channel interview last summer, at the U. S. Women’s Amateur. As much as he motivates Albane, her success — becoming one of the world’s top amateur golfers, thriving academically at an elite school — drives him.
“I have always seen my sister working really hard to get what she wants,” he wrote in an email, “and I am influenced by her dedication towards academics and golf.”
Albane overcame her own obstacle in the spring of 2017, when a bike accident on Stanford’s campus left her with a concussion, five broken teeth, facial lacerations and hand and knee injuries. She was sidelined for six weeks.
Now, a year later, she was nursing a nagging ( unrelated) wrist problem heading into NCAA tournament. She remains cautiously optimistic about the state of her game, and she eagerly looks forward to seeing her brother again soon. He will caddie for her at the U. S. Women’s Open outside Birmingham, Ala., on May 31June 3.
They savor the time together, talking and joking about their many common interests, from food to television shows. A few months ago, doctors told Diane Valenzuela that Alexis is no longer considered autistic.
He even started his own charity, Alexis for Autism, hoping to raise money for research focused on early intervention — exactly what set him on the right path.
Half a world away, his influence on his sister is unmistakable. Stanford coach Anne Walker could tell the first time she saw Alexis and Albane together.
“You can tell he looks up to her and he’s inspired by her,” Walker said. “And she’s in awe of her brother, very appreciative of him and very thankful for how far he’s come. It definitely goes both ways.”