Higgins was the last great rebel! - 30.07.2010

By John Hennessey

I CAN play shots the others can only dream about! That was my introduction to Alex Higgins in February, 1980, and I couldn’t believe I was in the presence of greatness.

 

 

The little leprechaun from Northern Ireland, nicknamed “Hurricane” because of his speed around the table, really was the greatest ‒ just ask Jimmy White.

 

 

But tragically, the two-time world snooker champion has died at 61, pitifully thin, poverty-stricken and alone in a sheltered housing room in Belfast.

 

 

His body was found last Saturday, 12 years after he had survived a throat cancer operation. Since then, despairingly, he preferred booze and cigarettes to getting himself in shape again.

 

 

Pictures of this once-handsome, jaunty character taken recently were appalling, to say the least. It was heartbreaking to see what a shambling wreck this painfully-thin idol had become, yet he was still talking a good fight right to the end.

 

 

Alex was the iconic figure of snooker, the man who always brought a hint of danger to the proceedings, on or off the table, and that’s what set him apart.

 

 

He was a rebel, and one of my all-time heroes, alongside Muhammad Ali and George Best, and when I told him I’d be covering snooker for the Daily Mail, he laid down the rules.

 

 

“If you always let me tell my side of the story when I’m in trouble, we’ll get along nicely,” he said.

 

 

It was the start of a genuine friendship spanning 15 years, and I was able to get a real insight into his turbulent career from time to time, as well as sharing some hilarious moments with him.

 

 

Sadly, it ended in 1994 when I asked the wrong question at a Crucible Theatre press conference in what transpired to be his last World Championship appearance.

 

 

Alex had been banned twice and fined on various occasions throughout his turbulent career, and he must have known it was to be his last hurrah.

 

 

He appeared, up to his eyes in booze, after losing 10-6 against Dubliner Ken Doherty in the first round after an almighty row with referee John Williams

 

 

Higgins complained that the official had been in his line of fire during one frame, and Williams said: “Alex, I’ve been standing here all the time and I’m not moving. If you don’t play on, I will dock you the frame.”

 

 

He moaned and moaned and eventually continued. It was a regular rant by the Hurricane, who had used that particular argument on many occasions throughout his career.

 

 

Generally, he caused a rumpus if things weren’t going well and generally, they seemed to inspire him.

 

 

Not this time, though, and he turned on me when I asked: “Alex, was there any point in arguing with the ref when he’d obviously made up his mind?”

 

 

His response saddened me and I just left the press conference, with tears in my eyes but a slight smile on my face. “The only Hennessey I talk to these days is cognac ‒ three star,” he said.

 

 

It was typical of his quick wit that he was able to put me down in a flash, but he never forgave me, just as, eventually, he fell out with the handful of pressmen who supported him through thick and thin.

 

 

Reporter John Dee, who had been around d the snooker scene since the early days of Higgins, was a great pal for many years.

 

 

But he told me after my bust-up: “Alex shuns me now ‒ he falls out with everyone and doesn’t even realise we’re on his side.”

 

 

For all his faults, and there were many ‒ including putting down genuine fans who wanted only an autograph or a photograph with him, so they could show their pals at work the next day ‒ Higgy was the best-loved snooker star of all.

 

 

If he’d won, there would be no problem, but he could turn nasty at the drop of his fedora if the mood took him, and I’ll never know why.

 

 

Most youngsters were inspired by Higgins ‒ White, Ronnie O’Sullivan and Ken Doherty to name a few. He won his first world title at the age of 22 and was the youngest champion until Stephen Hendry came along many years later.

 

 

He regained the title a decade later against six-times champion Ray Reardon, who at 49 was making his last stand in the big time.

 

 

I also became friendly with Reardon and ghosted a book for him a few years later, when he told me: “Alex really did invent shots. Sometimes when I played him, I’d sit and marvel at what he’d just done with the cue ball.”

 

 

I was privileged to cover their 1982 world final, but it was Higgy’s semi-final against White, whom he had mentored in his early days, that still sticks in the mind.

 

 

With White leading 59-0, needing just a ball or two to go through to the final and the balls all over the place, Higgins conjured up a magical break of 69, still considered to be the finest ever.