Sport: The Rains Came to Madras But Mexico Won Anyway

India’s monsoon rains drummed down on the makeshift rope-and-bamboo stadium in Madras, and Mexico’s Davis Cup team wondered if they were there for tennis or water polo. “We will lose our edge,” fretted Coach Pancho Contreras as the first day’s matches were postponed. The wonder was that the Mexicans had any edge left at all. In a comedy of errors—or possibly gamesmanship—the Latin Americans spent the better part of a week bumping around India while their hosts acted as if they weren’t even there at all.

Small Hello. Having whipped the U.S., Yugoslavia and Sweden to gain the interzone finals against India, the Mexican team arrived at New Delhi’s Palam airport expecting the usual amenities. But not an Indian appeared to meet them. When the Mexicans finally made contact with the Indian Lawn Tennis Association, they got a small hello. Right up to the time they left home, the Mexicans imagined that the matches would be played in cool, dry New” Delhi, as originally scheduled. But then the Indians switched to steamy Madras, 1,000 miles to the southeast, where their own players had been working out for a month. Now the Mexicans asked the obvious question: how to get there. The Indians merely shrugged—adding that if the Mexicans did not appear, India would be forced to claim a forfeit.

For four days Mexican Ambassador Octavio Paz scrambled around frantically trying to find hotel rooms (all the big hotels were full), a place to practice, and, above all, transportation to Madras. The

Indians explained that no planes were flying because of the Chinese border war; eventually they provided second-class train tickets for the two-day trip. At that, Ambassador Paz angrily complained to the Indian protocol office, which put the team on a flight to Madras—just in time for the monsoon rains. “When we finally got there,” said Coach Contreras, “the boys were afraid to eat the food, and were losing weight.”

Backhand or Forehand. The matches squared matters nicely—and established Mexico as a stylish new power in what is now a generally lackluster sport. Mexico’s No. 1, Rafael Osuna, 24, who perfected his tennis as a student at Southern Cal, had proved himself a one-man gang in earlier cup matches, trimming the U.S.’s Jon Douglas in a close match and beating both Sweden’s Ulf Schmidt and Jan Erik Lundquist.

On rain-soaked hard courts against India’s highly regarded ace, Ramanathan Krishnan, Osuna powdered the baseline with his drives, showed a baffling array of skittering slices; at times, he even employed some gamesmanship of his own, scooting catlike around a backhand to take it on his forehand. Krishnan carried the match to five sets, got a breather when the match was interrupted in the fourth set because of darkness. But that was it. Next day Osuna polished him off, then teamed with No. 2 Mexican Antonio Palafox to win the doubles to lead the jubilant squad to a 5-0 runaway.

The Aussies may prove too much for the Mexicans when they meet in Brisbane later this month. But as the first Latin American team ever to reach the challenge round, Osuna and Palafox will at least reign as the sentimental favorites across the western hemisphere. They may even take a set or two from the usually invincible Aussies, who last year slaughtered Italy in straight matches.