THE list of things that Alex Higgins was bad at is a lengthy one. He was a poor friend, a bad loser, an even worse drinker, an unhealthy eater, he didn't take authority well, if at all, and while he liked to bet, he hardly had the bookies quaking in their boots.
But there were times when Higgins was spellbinding.
Times when, as he raced around the snooker table, all twitches and ticks, it seemed that all his planets were aligned to produce gloriously calculated and executed shots of breathtaking quality.
He didn't invent snooker of course, but he took what was there and ensured it would never be the same again. And that was his genius.