I'm in the final now, you know

I had hoped not to have to break my sabbatical for any more RIP posts this year but sadly I have to, for one of my first sporting heroes has passed away.

Terry Griffiths was a coal miner, bus conductor, postman and insurance salesman before trying his hand on the professional snooker circuit. He'd had a very successful amateur career but it wasn't until he turned 30 that he thought the sport might be able to support him and his young family. At the time he gave himself three years to make a go of it.

In 1979 he won the world championship at his first attempt, beating Dennis Taylor 24-16 in the final (the last year it was played over so many frames). This was only his second professional tournament, and in winning it Terry became only the second qualifier to scoop the world title (after Alex Higgins in 1972). He went on to win many other tournaments, and became only the second player (I think) to complete snooker's triple crown of world, UK and Masters titles. There are still only eleven players to have done this. He would have won so many more titles too, if not for a certain Steve Davis. Terry once said that, after losing 13-10 to Steve in the 1980 world championships, he had to contend with the idea that there might be someone better at snooker than him ... and he found that hard to accept. Over the years that followed he tried everything to keep up with Davis, tweaking his technique and altering his stance, all in pursuit of technical perfection. In the 1982 season Steve and Terry contested five major ranking event finals - Steve won three, Terry two. But this pursuit of technique kerbed Terry's natural free-flowing play and he became the methodical player he is somewhat sadly remembered as now, as known for slow play and late-night finishes as he should be for his tournament successes in snooker's golden era.

As a boy growing up in the 70s and 80s, yes, I had Kenny Dalglish on my wall but I had Terry's books Championship Snooker and, later, Complete Snooker on my shelf. I read and re-read them, and learnt to play the game from them, and from him. My first cue had Terry's name stencilled on the side. My interest in the technical side of the game was all from him. The occasions I met him, got his autograph, left long and lasting impressions. My love of the green baize has lasted ever since, even if failing eye-sight means I can't play as well as I used to.

With pleasing symmetry, Terry ended his professional playing career by qualifiying for the world championships in 1997, where he was drawn to play fellow Welshman Mark Williams. Terry lost 10-9, though had chances to win what would have been a tremendous upset. I don't think Terry would have been too upset though, as he had been coaching Mark up to that point. I think he would just have enjoyed playing at the Crucible one last time. Coaching became his career from then on, and the list of top players he worked with is as long as your arm. Interestingly, over time his coaching became more about the psychology of the sport than the technical - it is, after all, the cruel game. Maybe that's why Terry never achieved quite as much as his talent deserved - you won't find anyone in world snooker with a single bad word to say about him.

Terry's family announced his death yesterday. He was 77, and had suffered with dementia in the last years of his life. Of course the Beeb and the Grauniad have obits, but for me he'll always be more than just the sum of his professional record. To me, he was a genuine sporting hero. I wanted to do what he did, and I wanted to play like him - not Davis, not Higgins, not White, not anybody else. I'm not likely to ever improve on my highest break, not with these eyes, but if I ever did, even now, it'll still be down to him.

I'll just leave you with this video of Terry returning to the Crucible, 40 years after his world championship win, and then a clip of him doing what he did best, in a different age. RIP Griff, and thank you.