Whilst this blog is primarily about all things football I do keep an eye on a variety of other sports, indeed my wife suggests I'd watch two flies racing up a wall if I was faced with no other option. With that in mind I couldn't ignore the sad demise and eventual passing of one of the biggest sporting icons of the seventies and eighties.
Alex Higgins in his pomp came too late for me. His first World Championship occurred seven years before my birth and his last when I was a mere three years old. When I did develop an interest in snooker, perhaps around the late eighties, I was aware of him but only as an enigmatic figure who was talked of within the sport as a troubled genius. Due to his erratic performances and unpredictable behaviour at tournaments towards the end of his time on the world stage I barely even saw him play. Furthermore my main font of knowledge for all things snooker, my elderly grandmother, was unlikely to encourage any interest in Higgins that I may have shown. Granny modelled herself as a respectable, stoic, working class Leither (who bizarrely insisted on voting Conservative for her entire life) and as such she abhorred the vulgarity, smoking, drinking and associated bad behaviour for which Higgins became infamous. In snooker terms she was far more Stephen Hendry than Alex Higgins. As indeed was I. As a young boy I was drawn to the clean cut, clean living image of Hendry in the same way that kids idolised the likes of Michael Owen a few years ago or his equivalent today (although I genuinely cant think of today's equivalent).
As I grew older I became more aware of Higgin's legacy as by that stage his career at the top level was all but over. I listened incredulously as my Dad told a story of Higgins taking a piss in an auditorium plant pot mid frame at The Crucible and I paid equal attention to the fellow snooker professionals by whom he was clearly revered as they looked back, during television coverage, over previous tournaments and celebrated the excitement. flamboyance and panache Alex had brought to their sport.
There's little need for a blogging hobbyist to dissect Alex's much publicised personal problems. His destructive relationship with alcohol, tobacco and by his own admission other substances is well documented as are it's affects on both his professional and personal life. I'm saddened by the news of his somewhat inevitable death. A sporting icon of my childhood has been lost and not only that, he has been lost to causes which were potentially avoidable. The throat cancer with which Alex was diagnosed with in 1994 had long been in remission. His missing teeth, lost through bouts of strong radio therapy designed to treat his cancer, meant he was surviving on Guinness and small amounts of puréed food each day and it was this lack of nourishment which ultimately killed him. The horrific suffering he experienced over the last 16 years might never have happened, however, had his lifestyle been less unhealthy and his vices been indulged with more moderation.
Whilst Alex Higgins' name will go down in history for being one the finest exponents of his chosen game and on one of his good days an example of snooker at it's best, he could equally be used as the strongest deterrent for any young adults considering embarking upon a life as a smoker.
Alex Hurricane Higgins RIP x.
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