The Crucible: 2019.

There have been no verifiable sightings of Alex Higgins' actual ghost around the Crucible Theatre. But the Irishman’s unorthodox, often crisis-inspired creativity and brattish, hyper-aggressive, balls-to-the-baize dynamism has been more than evident in the play and manner of a resurgent Judd Trump.

many experts predicted trump would become the youngest player to ever win the World Championships. people predicted during his junior days, the youngest-ever world snooker champion. Trump missed out on this feat, as did Jimmy White and Ronnie O’Sullivan. His various campigns have not been convicing, with Trump turning in a fe terrible perfoamnces, notably against Alii Carter and Rory Mcleod. This year, Trump has turned up determined to put his critics in their place and out to bludgeon all of his opponents into a stupefied, suitably awed, and well-bloodied daze.

Alex Higgins always understood that trophy cabinets contain metal sculptures made of degradable materials that lose their burnish without constant buffing; the measure, spread and weight of his own reputation was the Hurricane’s true concern. This explained his early desire to be known as Alexander the Great. Alexander was a man who conquered the known world during his brief life and his name remains indelibly printed on the history books many centuries after his passing. Higgins expressed a deep admiration of the boxer Mohammed Ali and it’s fair to argue that no other boxer - even Mike Tyson at his peak - has replaced Ali as boxing’s singular historical personality.

The relationship between Higgins and his audience was a straightforward, uncomplicated mutual love affair. Higgins declared, “I’m a genius and I want you to worship at my feet!” And the audience replied loyally for over thirty years, ”Show us how brilliant you are and we’ll love you forever!” This was a mutual love affair unlike any before or since in the snooker world. Ronnie O’Sullivan is loved by the public but the Rocket’s constant love-hate relationship with his own talent tends to violently interrupt the natural orgasmic peak that two lovers require to reach true and lasting fulfilment.

Judd on the other hand shares the Hurricane’s heady compulsion to slam balls into pockets from all angles, screw the white ball back over impossible distances, and expose his rivals as the talentless plebs they all are.  Judd, like the Hurricane, wants more than the win. He wants you to be entertained. He wants his name to be on your lips. Pp and down the breadth of the country, within the small, smoky snooker halls of far-flung towns in Tooting, Brighton and Edinburgh, when snooker folks turn on the lights over their snooker tables, remove their cues from their cases and ask each other, “Did you see that shot Judd Trump played last night?”

Times have changed since Higgins brazenly strutted around his small snooker kingdom, sure that the only ticket in town worth purchasing was a ticket that allowed an ordinary punter to watch him play, in real life, and up close. Trump is hugely popular in China. With the aid of the Chinese Social Media colossus Sina Weibo, Trump’s fame is spreading like wildfire through a massive market that was far beyond Higgins’ reach and the BBC and ITV. Only time will tell if Trump has the commitment, the staying power, and the sheer stamina to build a legacy that can one day replace Higgins’ enduring status as the game’s most thrilling genius.