Neither performed badly, but both were beaten by rivals who got it righter on the night.

You did wonder, however, whether the joshing talk of the previous day's press conference, when the 35-year-old Jamaican had asked the 22-year-old Swede how fast he could run over 100 metres, and he had replied "I would beat you", had got to them.

Maybe Fraser-Pryce was rueing an initiative that led to a friendly wager being laid for that race in Brussels next year? Perhaps Duplantis was having second thoughts about his immediate burst of confidence?

Well maybe. But probably not.

The sprinter and the sprinter-cum-vaulter will soon be back to winning ways. But - that contest. It’s got legs…

In response to the young man’s instinctive response, Fraser-Pryce jokingly responded "survey says, that’s a lie."

The reigning world and Olympic pole vault champion then recalled how he had set a wind-assisted personal best of 10.57sec in 2018 while representing Lafayette High School in Louisiana, where he was brought up.

Parry. Thrust. Fraser-Pryce, who ran her personal best of 10.60 in Lausanne last year, then pointed out how much time had passed between then and now. But Duplantis insisted he was now much faster…

The exchange was, a little satirically, referred to as "trash-talking."

Now of course trash-talking can come in different forms. Sometimes it is plain nasty. For instance, Muhammad Ali, before a world championship bout, calling his long-time rival Joe Frazier "ugly" was neither witty nor delightful.

But when he informed the man who liked - at that time anyway - to be known as "Smokin’ Joe Frasier" - "Smoking’s bad for your health, Joe", well, that was a little more witty.

Athletics doesn’t tend to do the boxing thing too much. But don’t run away with the idea that antipathies within the sport don’t manifest themselves.

I recall witnessing the women’s javelin medal ceremony at the 1990 Auckland Games, and its aftermath, in which Britain’s Tessa Sanderson, having secured a third Commonwealth title, railed at having to compete against the Australian who took silver, Sue Howland.

Howland, winner of the Commonwealth title in Brisbane in 1982, had recently returned to competition after being banned for two years after testing positive at a meeting in Belfast in 1987.

When she offered Sanderson her hand, it was taken up belatedly, and with manifest reluctance.

''I didn't talk to her through the competition,'' she said afterwards. 

''As a sportswoman, I had to accept her hand. But my heart wasn't in it. I wanted to go out and thrash her . . . she should not have been there…

''I ask why someone like myself, who has trained hard and played fair over the years, should have to compete against a drug-taker.''

Skip forward six years. Roger Black, back to full fitness after years of metaphorical false starts, has won the AAA Championships at Birmingham’s Alexander Stadium, earning his place for that summer’s Atlanta Olympics by defeating a richly talented field with a British record of 44.39sec, followed home by the man who had succeeded him two years earlier as European champion, Du’Aine Ladejo.

The two men did not love each other. 

When it was his turn to talk, Ladejo expressed the view that by the end of the season the British record would belong to him. 

"Du’Aine," said a clearly vexed Black, "you are so predictable."

There was some back and forth. Journalists leant forward, increasingly keen on noting where this conversation was going. Before long the words "put your money where your mouth is" came from Black. 

In response to a query of how much, he responded "A thousand". Upon which the two men grimly shook hands.

By the end of the season Black had reduced his record to 44.37, and won individual and relay silver at the Olympics. 

Rather than accepting the suggestion of Ladejo’s agent that they should have a public handover with a giant cheque, Black asked for the money to be sent to him, and then spent it on a big meal out for a large group of his friends, at which the toast between every course was: "Du’Aine Ladejo."

Happy days.

Skip forward another year. The Toronto Skydome. Olympic 200 and 400m champion Michael Johnson of the United States, and Canada’s Olympic 100m champion Donovan Bailey, coincidentally representing, respectively, Nike and Adidas, have just contested a race over 150 metres - for a prize of $1 million - to decide just who was "the world’s fastest man."

There has been no clear answer. 

Johnson has pulled up at the halfway point clutching his left thigh. Bailey has announced, with a trademark twinkle, that his opponent is "a faker and a chicken." 

Offered the chance to amend or retract his comment a little later, Bailey - a former marketing man, let’s just recall - twinkled again before responding: "He's called me a lot of things so, no, I don't regret saying it…"

Ah, such happy days.

As for Carl Lewis and Ben Johnson - don’t get me started. And let’s not visit Darren Campbell and Dwain Ladejo. Or Tessa Sanderson and Fatima Whitbread. Or Daley Thompson and Jurgen HIngsen. Or Linford Christie and Andre Cason. Or Dennis Mitchell and anybody else.

Of course, the Fraser-Pryce/Duplantis badinage is all in good heart.

But if he does lose, he can always challenge her in the pole vault...