Laughing Boy & The Weeper

Whenever the going got rough, an invariable sequence of events always seemed to overtake Italy's two standout tennis stars: lithe Nicola Pietrangeli would weep, towering Orlando Sirola would laugh, and, sooner or later, both would get beaten. But last week in the Davis Cup interzone finals in Perth, Australia, the emotional Italians, crying and chortling as always, suddenly turned tough under pressure. After losing two matches in a row, they rallied to defeat a favored squad of U.S. youngsters 3-2, thereby earned Italy the right to challenge the proud Australians later this month for the Davis Cup itself.

The upset in Perth astounded the tennis world. No Italian team had ever before made the Davis Cup playoff, and not since 1936 had the Americans been shut out. Resigned to defeat, the Italians had even reserved seats on a plane flight leaving for home right after their matches with the U.S. The very first day of play nearly put the Italians on the plane: the U.S.'s belligerent Butch Buchholz, 20, beat Sirola 6-8, 7-5, 11-9, 6-2, and brooding Barry MacKay, 25, defeated Pietrangeli, 8-6, 3-6, 8-10, 8-6, 13-11. Muffling his sobs in a towel, Pietrangeli, the man the Roman fans call "Maritozzo" (Sugar Bun), had to sponge away the tears.

Sharp Blade. Then the Italians settled down to play. In the doubles, Pietrangeli's finesse and Sirola's power combined for a 3-6, 10-8, 6-4, 6-8, 6-4 victory over Buchholz and his boyhood partner from St. Louis, stocky Chuck McKinley, 19. Next day Pietrangeli kept Italy alive by using patty-ball tactics to befuddle the slugging Buchholz, 6-1, 6-2, 6-8, 3-6, 6-4. That put the team score at 2-2 and set up a showdown between MacKay and Sirola, two of the hardest hitters in tennis.

Grim as a hanging judge, MacKay never did get his big game started against the relaxed Sirola, who capered about like a jolly blade on a Sunday picnic. Using the full leverage of his height and weight (6 ft. 7 in., 224 Ibs.), Sirola mixed awesome serves with overhead smashes to win in a rout, 9-7, 6-3, 8-6. Unable to stand the strain of watching the match, Pietrangeli had nursed his anguish at a nearby beach, returned just in time to see the final point, crying: "The best match I never saw Orlando play."

Getting Their Kicks. For the defeated Americans, Sirola's totally unexpected victory was the culminating disaster of a disastrous trip. For weeks, the ill-mannered U.S. youngsters had been stirring up one of the biggest flaps in Australian tennis history by berating officials, swearing on court, hitting balls into the stands, and even heaving their rackets at spectators. Snapped Australian Tennis Boss Norman Strange: "Disgusting. In 36 years of tennis I have never seen anything so bad as their court behavior." Another official suggested that the young Americans, particularly Buchholz, needed "a swift kick in the pants." After Sirola's win, the Australian press gleefully reported that the Americans blew off steam in their dressing room by knocking a couple of holes in the wall. Later they enlivened an airline flight to Sydney by throwing around wads of toilet paper, managed to bean Edward Dunphy, one of Australia's ranking justices.

Partly out of their disgust with the Americans, Australians took a shine to Sirola and Pietrangeli, two of the most refreshing individualists to hit big-time tennis in years. Sirola, 32, is a day-laborer's son who taught himself the sport. But despite the fact that tennis lifted him out of poverty, he continues to take it so casually that in Perth he astounded the gallery by striking up a conversation with a nearby fan while waiting for a temperamental U.S. opponent to settle himself down to play. Tunisian-born Pietrangeli, 27, is no less insouciant despite his periodic crying jags. Married to one of Rome's top fashion models and a dedicated clotheshorse himself (50 suits, 125 ties, 30 pairs of shoes), Pietrangeli last week practiced some sly gamesmanship on Buchholz by extravagantly admiring the American's gaily colored sports jacket, then asking: "Do they make these for men, too?"

"Who Knows?" In the Davis Cup, the Italians will be the underdogs against Australia's blond Neale Fraser, 27, the finest amateur in the world, and Rod ("Rocket") Laver, 22, a stubby, shy stylist. Since both Fraser and Laver are lefthanded, lefthanded Jaroslav Drobny, 39, the old Czech campaigner who coaches the Italian team, is preparing to work himself into the ground in practice sessions. The outcome of the matches is splendidly uncertain. Says Sirola: "Perhaps we will tighten up and play badly, and then again perhaps we will go out there with nothing on our minds and play terrifically. Who knows?"

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