Echoes of past glories

MISSION Impossible. John Gallagher, the Aer Rianta spin doctor spread his arms wide in front of the media pack as The Aoife taxied down the runway at Dublin Airport's North Terminal - the celebrity stop.

"Will you walk out onto the apron slowly when he comes down from the steps? Pretend there is an imaginary corral. If you go into a scrum the police will try to stop you."

Ah John. John.. John.. John.

Ken Doherty, World Professional Snooker Champion, stepped into the biting wind, wide eyed and dazed. He could have been a jockey or a flyweight emerging from the plane but for the poolhall complexion, the envelope coloured skin. A nice guy Doherty. Unassuming, generous with his time, rings his Ma, told the plastic surgeon to sod off. Has lots going.

Before last weekend backhanded digs at his ability came gift wrapped. His characteristic decency and humility was the flaw in a game where notoriety would have made him twice as rich. Where did he find the menace to rattle Stephen Hendry? Where did he find the executioner's instincts and the hunted's sense of survival? Cradling his £2 warped cue, he watched as Hendry ate into a lead of 7-15 to bring it back to 12-15. How did be stop the charge of the best player in the world?

Doherty waved from the steps. He kissed his Mum. He bugged his family. He held the Embassy Trophy high in the air and surrendered himself to the media. There was a scrum. The police moved in. All smiles and warm humour and echoes of Euro 88 and the Ryder Cup last year, of Sonia O'Sullivan, Italia 90 and Michelle Smith after Atlanta. Doherty's name has lengthened the list. It's shadow grows longer.

The candle lighting, bicycling riding Mrs Doherty, looking as fearful as any mother might with all that attention being lavished on her son, was consumed by the photographers and carried in the rolling maul across the tarmac. Inside the crowd of several hundred trumpeted their champion on to a platform, not quite as encrusted with politicians as the old days. Maybe the message got through.

Lord Mayor Brendan Lynch was first up.

"Ken told me he felt that he had let down the Irish people because he played so badly at Goffs. It takes a great champion to come back the way he did."

Ann Devitt from Fingal County Council followed by pouring cold water over the tales of misspent youth and snooker balls as sponsors of soul rot and delinquency.

"The police told me it was the quietest weekend they've bad in a long time because there were so many people in at home watching the snooker on television."

For a moment it had resonances of the years Charlton sat on the throne when impossible rumours abounded about car thieves' zero tolerance to taking the Opel brand because of their sponsorship of the Irish soccer team. Ken finally stepped up.

"Where's your mother Ken?" they asked. "Where's the trophy Ken?"

"What does a snooker ball do before it goes down Ken?" shouted a voice.

Eh ... I don't know," replied the champ.

"It looks round."

Someone had being reading their old Christmas cracker jokes and had inexplicably gotten to the front. The stand up managed to momentarily silence the crowd. But Doherty continued to field the questions.

"What was it like Ken?"

"It was more nerve wracking arriving here in Dublin than it was playing in Sheffield last week. It's great that Ireland has another World Champion. It's a great achievement for me and it's great to be able to bring it home and for Ireland to be back on the snooker map again where it belongs."

"How many sides on a snooker ball Ken. Come on. Come on. How many sides on a snooker ball," asked the stand up.

"How many drinks have you had today," replied the unfazed Doherty, warming to the challenge.

"When Stephen started the comeback he began to make it very, very hard for me. I think the big frame was to get 16-12 ahead. I was under terrible pressure. We had an interval at 12-15 and I kind of relaxed after that. But when I got to those last few balls I had to smile. I was like a Cheshire cat.

"The family stayed behind for this one. The last few times they came over to watch me play I lost so they stayed at home. As well as that my manager Ian gave me a few words of encouragement - it you know what I mean by calling me a lazy bastard. I was very disheartened after Goffs. I had a point to prove after that tournament.

"It's been a real confidence booster. It tops of the season and it's a great platform for next year. I want to go and win more titles and I won't be just satisfied with what I've done so far," said the number three ranked player in the world.

"But for now I'm going to enjoy the summer with my family. They'll be getting a slice of this for sure.

The open topped bus pulled out of the airport to a cacophony of car horns and clapping. Ken Doherty, world champion, stood up front, his indoor face taking the full blast of icy wind, his indoor hands holding the trophy aloft. Through Drumcondra and the numbers swelled. Into Dorset street and left to O'Connell street he smiled in his pink shirt and pinstripe jacket to the open office windows. Freezing cold, you could sense his resolve, maybe even understand where the steel came from. The first player from the Republic, the third from Ireland after Alex Higgins and Dents Taylor to have won the world championship. Ranelagh is probably still celebrating. Doherty had shed his skin and made the transition.