As news filtered through to me on Saturday that Alex Higgins had died, I had a mix of thoughts and emotions. My first was a lack of surprise. I had seen a photograph of him recently with Jimmy White. Jimmy has enjoyed the high life and fed and watered well since dropping out of the professional snooker world. Alex, however was a frail old man, with no sign of the spark and glint in his eye that wowed audiences in the 1970s and 80s. My second thought was of surprise that there was not more comment on the matter. As is often the case these days, I was alerted to it by a friend's facebook status. I had just finished playing cricket and the post had been up around two hours, and hence my surprise that there were no comments or that others hadn't announced their commiserations. And my third thought was casting my mind back to a prodigious talent with much publicised personality flaws - two facts that had earned him the nickname 'Hurricane' as well as 'Kerrygold', Ireland's best butter, after he headbutted a referee in 1986.

Higgins burst on the scene in 1972, winning the World Championships at the age of 22. This may not sound so amazing these days, but only Joe Davis had previously won the title before the age of 30, and that was in the 1920s. John Spencer and Ray Reardon dominated the tournament either side of Higgins win, sharing 9 titles, but Spencer was 34 when he won his first in 1969, while Reardon was 38 when he took his first title the following year. It was widely believed you needed the maturity and experience to cope with the length of matches - the final was the best of 73 frame finals, more than twice the length of today's final.

However, the big difference Higgins brought to the game, as opposed to his two more senior rivals, was entertainment. Snooker had hit TV screens with Pot Black in 1969, and viewers enjoyed the experience, but although it was the dour, considered, methodical approaches of Reardon, Spencer, Eddie Charlton and Rex Williams that won the early years, the Hurricane was the one who created excitement in the audience. In the punk decade, here was a brash upstart from the streets of Belfast, who brought a range of previously unseen shots to the table, and hence the new TV public. He changed the game and excited crowds like Tiger Woods has in golf, or Phil Taylor has in darts, but he did it overnight. For anyone who never saw his talent enjoy this for a break - www.youtube.com/watch?v=dViH2UERKBs . He changed 'percentage shots' - previously players had played safe, but if Higgins saw it could be potted, he'd go for it, and in that break he potted every one he went for.

I am not going to ignore his other side though. Headbutting a referee, punching a tournament official, a genuine loose cannon in press conferences, not to mention his chain smoking and drinking throughout matches - he is often referred to as the best drunk player of snooker ever. But his mercurial talent put him in that collection of sports stars who instead of being vilified for his behaviour, had it dismissed as him being 'a character'. He followed very closely in the shoes of another Northern Irish character, George Best, who alas also suffered a similar final fate, but not after entertaining millions with his ability to make even the most difficult things easy - just like Higgins.

But would Higgins and Best ever have survived in today's sterilised, anodyne world of sport? How many of the 'characters' would have done? Higgins certainly wouldn't have lasted as long on the tour he did. Ronnie O'Sullivan is as outrageous as snooker gets nowadays, but his antics look tame in comparison. Best would have been kicked out and found himself outcast for his 'lack of self discipline' before he'd had a chance to retire. Would Ian Botham's training regime, or lack thereof, have been acceptable to the myriad of coaches and conditioning staff now employed by England's cricket team? How many tournaments would John McEnroe's tantrums have got him thrown out of and banned from? Alas, I fear in today's regimented approach to preparation, training, discipline and individual sports' worries about the image of their sport, we would have seen much less of these true superstars of their chosen vocations.

Only in American sports do 'characters' still flourish - Charles Barkley and Dennis Rodman being the most recent and most obvious outrageous examples. But John Daly too keeps plugging on, giving hope to drinking/smoking/overweight golfers everywhere, and as much as people admire Lance Armstrong, Roger Federer and Stephen Hendry, they would much rather watch and have a beer with Daly or McEnroe or Jimmy White.

More than ever, sport is an entertainment business, and while you need talent to get to the top, and to really get to the top does take hard work, to truly entertain sports need their characters, however, administrators desperate for the commercial dollar shudder at a player going 'off message' for fear of losing a sponsor. But sponsors aren't stupid, and viewing figures speak for themselves. Higgins flamboyance was at the heart of snooker becoming mainstream viewing in the 70s and 80s, peaking with the 18.5 million who watched through to 12.20am as Dennis Taylor beat Steve Davis in the greatest final. Since then Higgins star waned, as have the other characters, one by one, being replaced by equally talented youngsters in many cases, but no characters for viewers to identify with. This year's final pulled in just 2.5 million viewers.

Rest in peace Alex Higgins, but if you can come back and instill your spirit in a new generation of snooker players, and sportsmen, you'll be most welcome. One Hurricane we should all hope keeps blowing.