"Before you didn't care how you played as long as you won. Now you just want to play good tennis." John McEnroe fingered the essential nub of the veterans' circuit, as surely as he still continues to finger a linesman or lineswoman (he has never been choosy) who he perceives has made a bum call.

The Royal Albert Hall is used to repetition, but the world's great music, however often it is played, is always open to re-interpretation.

Sport is solely of its own particular moment and era, and although yesterday's match between McEnroe and Bjorn Borg may have evoked memories of their great Wimbledon finals of 1980 and 1981 it was neither a re-run nor a fresh reworking. It could never be that.

But it was wonderful entertainment, mostly because these two giants of the game remain, despite the passing of the years and the thickening of limbs, hugely competitive beasts.

"It used to be the end of the world when you lost," said the 41year-old Borg.

"Now it's the end of the girl," joked McEnroe, who lost the opening set 6-2, won the second 63, and took the deciding Champions tie-break 10-7.

In 1980 Borg defeated McEnroe 1-6, 7-5, 6-3, 6-7 (16-18), 8-6 to win his fifth Wimbledon singles title after a pulsating match of haunting brilliance. A year later McEnroe triumphed 4-6, 7-6 (71), 7-6 (7-4), 6-4, and hastened the beginning of the end for Borg.

The Swede's retirement, when he was still only 26, is still a sadness to McEnroe, for Borg's precipitous farewell deprived both McEnroe and the world of so many more absorbing encounters.

Hence the prodigious interest in yesterday's match, the first between the two in Britain since 1981. The one fear was, after all the hype, that it would be an anticlimax or an embarrassment. It was neither.

Initially Borg held sway, appearing altogether faster and fitter than the American who did his best to slow things down with a prolonged rant against lineswomen and umpire. Also as of old, Borg stood impassive, head down, waiting for the ritualised storm to blow itself out.

And it did, although not before a warning for unsporting conduct when McEnroe lashed a ball in anger. Borg barely blinked. These two are firm friends, and the undemonstrative Swede was perfectly happy to let his opponent play the pantomime villain. The crowd loved it.

Thereafter McEnroe's game gained fresh sinew; his swinging serve had more bite, and there were backhand volleys of sumptuous control and exquisite touch.

Borg responded with the occasional pass or raking drive down the line that left McEnroe flatfooted at the net and scratching his thinning hair.

The deciding tie could not have been more exciting if it had been stage-managed. Perish the thought.

Extraordinarily Borg was footfaulted to go a mini-break down. "You get bad calls?" Borg responded quizzically over the net. "You just have to roll with the punches," McEnroe replied.

Immediately Borg hit a stunning running forehand pass to level matters, but it was Mac who applied the final knife.

There is now talk . . . perhaps, if, but . . . of the two playing a special match during the Wimbledon fortnight. Not next year. Maybe the next. Maybe never. Perhaps once is enough.