By Elliott West
Introduction
Alex Higgins has often been referred to as being a genius at snooker but off the table, he could be extremely irrational at times. One such example happened in September 1973 when the journalist Alf McCreary went to interview Alex in Accrington, a journey that he described as being harder to reach than New York. A town that was drab, lined with smoke-stained houses and a grey wilderness that was only warmed by the friendly people that lived there. However, what followed was not the desired outcome for the journalist and left him disappointed and scratching his head in disbelief.
The Day in Question
Arriving in Accrington, Alf made his way to the Derby Hotel where he was due to meet Alex for the interview. Greeted at the hotel door by its owner, the jovial Winnie Manson, McCreary announced himself and said he was there to interview Alex Higgins. An introduction that was met with a weary response from Winnie :
“He did say he was meeting a journalist on Friday but I hope for your sake he turns up”.
Taking a seat and reading over these well-thumbed research notes, Alf remained seated for what seemed like an eternity. With one eye on the door and the other on his notes, the door suddenly opened and standing before him, was his photographer for the shoot, not the long-awaited Higgins.
Taking a seat, the two waited with occasional interjection from the hotel owner apologising prophetically for Alex’s tardiness. A local resident also piped up, saying:
“That’s Alex’s form, he’s unpredictable”.
With the day almost over, the photographer decided to cut his losses, putting his camera equipment away and left. As he left, the landlady again apologised to the journalist, sighing and saying:
Fancy him not turning up and you coming all the way from Belfast”.
With the bar closed and the landlady depleted of apologies, Alf decided to make his excuses and make his way in the pouring rain back to the train station. In a visit that had been void of apologies or telephone calls from Higgins, the sombre journalist lashed by the soaking rain, was met by three ladies crossing the street. Perhaps affected by his brief visit, the ladies still seemed to see a glint in the eye, probably gained from the hospitable community, saying to him:
“Have a nice holiday luv”.
A comment that brought a broad smile to McCreary’s face and reminded him that the visit was worthwhile even without Higgins showing. He probably learned more about this snooker maverick in his absence than with him present. A hurricane that on this occasion had not blown his way. Perhaps he stayed away because of his recent stormy visit to Australia or something else, no one will ever know!
