Paul Lewis: The day Borg defined his greatness

With Roger Federer on a mission for his fourth consecutive Wimbledon title and a further step towards Bjorn Borg's record of five Wimbledon crowns in a row, it is to be hoped that the Federer-Rafael Nadal rivalry grows to include grass.

Unlikely maybe - Nadal is not yet the force on grass that he is on clay and hardcourt, even with his talent and resolve - but you can only hope that this becomes a rivalry which approaches that of a certain contest at Wimbledon 26 years ago.

The Borg-John McEnroe 1980 final - which many call the greatest game of tennis ever played - remains one of the finest sporting events it has ever been my privilege to witness. I can remember many things about Wimbledon then, including the headlong rush from the gates by fans who had queued since ridiculous o'clock to get the handful of tickets to centre court that the All England Lawn Tennis Club holds back so the event does not become the sole preserve of the rich, famous and corporate.

When the gates opened, there was an unseemly and most un-English sprint and tussle for tickets. I had already been given tickets by a friend, bless him, but the air of desperation and urgency swept me up and I also ran like the wind, until being viciously elbowed and called a foul name by a little blonde English teenager who obviously felt I was a danger to her ticket hopes.

I dropped out of the race, panting, and watched the hordes descend on the ticket office.

I can also recall the heat, the legendary strawberries and cream in the Pavilion, the champagne and the man, whom I have described in a previous column, dressed as a vicar who was engaged in a solitary obscene act at the men's urinal.

But, most of all, I remember Borg that day.

When the tautology "great champions" is summoned, you tend to think of people such as Muhammad Ali, Pele and very few others. I rate Borg in this stratosphere, simply because of what he showed that day. Talent, yes, character, yes, but more than anything else, he had freakish concentration and an almost unbreakable will not to lose.

Most would express that as a "will to win" but that wasn't what Borg showed us that day.

In McEnroe, he faced an opponent of opposites. Borg, then heading for his fifth Wimbledon title, was a baseliner, sometimes criticised for being like a metronome, a percentage player who nonetheless had the shots and skills when he needed them. He wore down his opponents, his precision forcing their mistakes. McEnroe was the complete opposite - a touch player, drop shots one minute, searing volleys and groundstrokes the next.

While Borg was impassive, masking his passion and determination behind his "ice man" persona, McEnroe was expressive, all brilliance and obscenities, pure talent wrapped up in a punk kid who threw purple tantrums.

It seemed the prince was about to unseat the king after a first set in which Borg's double-handed backhand struggled to cope with McEnroe's fluency and his swinging left-hand serve, losing the set 6-1. He looked set to lose the second but the magic of Borg clicked in. He won, as he did for most of his career, the points that really mattered. The brash New York kid seemed to be all over the serious Swede but Borg stole the set 7-5.

Knocked off his stride, McEnroe dropped the next set 6-3 with Borg really finding his rhythm and his length. Borg stood ready to win, 40-15 up and 5-4 up in the fourth set. What normally happens in sports at this stage is that the player trailing loses, maybe 95 per cent of the time.

Instead, McEnroe simply started reeling off winners of such impossible impudence that he tied it up at 6-6 before most of us knew what had happened.

The 25-minute tie-break that followed has entered sports legend. With each point at the end of the tie-break either a match point to Borg or a set-point to McEnroe, both men drew deep into reserves and came up with rallies and shots that were simply breathtaking. McEnroe, who saved a phenomenal seven match points, took the tiebreaker to end all tiebreakers 18-16 and level at two sets all.

What normally happens next is that the player who had previously seemed likely to win, crumbles.

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of words (not all of them admiring) had been written about the Swede's nerve. Author Tim Adams put it like this: "It is the moment when Borg walks out to serve once more, two sets all, one to play, as if nothing had happened."

There, for all to see, was the ice man, partially melted from the heat that McEnroe exerted but clawing back his crown. It was an act of will. He somehow banished from his mind all that had gone before and concentrated solely on the next ball. Nothing fancy, nothing complex. Just serve, return, backhand, forehand, movement - chasing, chasing, chasing - and precision.

Even a shot or two of rare McEnroe beauty did not deter him and Borg won 8-6 to claim the best tennis match I have ever seen.

McEnroe got him the following year, of course, ending Borg's Wimbledon reign and his career. But Borg's 1980 win showed that the ability to focus, to use mental powers, was an indispensable tool in the pursuit of sporting greatness.

Federer has the strokes and creativity to have already been called the best there has ever been. But does he have the Borg factor when faced by his McEnroe? We shall see.