SNOOKER: A new generation of fans watched a legend, looking gaunt but still dapper, play a few frames in Dublin last night. Keith Duggan reports

Alex Higgins, the man who invented snooker, played a few frames last night.

They say it is his comeback. For many years, the possibility of seeing Higgins play live again seemed remote. Last night's return was fairly low-key and its location in a pristine theatre at DCU was an entire galaxy away from the smoky, ungoverned halls where Higgins was first declared a genius.

There were a lot of Ulster voices in the auditorium as a crowd of several hundred awaited The Return. At least half the crowd was female. And although there was a fair share of the generation for whom late-night snooker was the raciest entertainment imaginable, most of the fans were young.

Kids in Nike trainers with disposable cameras who may not have been born when the Hurricane won his second title in 1982. Kids carrying well-leafed copies of his autobiography that contains a life story to make Oliver Reid's seem innocent in comparison.

Higgins was due to play Ken Doherty in the first of the exhibition matches. Dublin is Ken's hometown but last night the crowd was unashamedly partisan and Ken understood. Doherty was introduced first and then the announcer asked everyone to welcome the legend.

And Alex looked almost bashful as he stepped from the shadows, pointing up at someone he may have known in the crowd. And although he is still painfully gaunt, didn't he look dandy in a rich red shirt and black pants and waistcoat. Dapper and well pressed.

Alex, true to the gods, lost the toss and Ken broke. There was an energy when Higgins got his first chance to approach the table, a feeling of real goodwill and anticipation. He cannoned a red into the corner pocket and left himself perfect on the black and one of those World Championship Crucible roars erupted.

In the perfect world, he would of course have machine-gunned his way to a century full of his traditional verve and nerves. On his comeback, though, he managed a break of 25 and then Ken returned and hoovered up everything on the table.

Alex stood in the background, studying the younger player intently. He might have been watching a vision of his former self.

Sometimes people couldn't contain themselves and shouted his name or more often "Hurricane." At one point he bantered with a section of the crowd but Alex's voice is still raw and it was hard to hear what he said. Still, everyone treasured the sounds.

Bent over the table, he still looks the picture of taut elegance and regularly he managed to make oblique shots look casual and easy. But this was a comeback and he was never going to have anything like his former mastery over the white ball.

After a miss, he retreated from the table with that familiar harrowed look, like a man who has just lost his mortgage on a race between two snails and can't quite believe his folly.

But he won the second frame, swooping down on a mistake by Ken to finish up with a low fortyish break.

But he got to clear the table and that was what people had come to see, some for the first time, some for just one more.

Higgins crouched over the table eyeing the black globe, a clear sea of green all around him. When he rolled it in and walked away, they cheered loud and long again and Alex looked pleased, looked as if it was good to be back for this night at least.