Sporting Bygones: I was being crowned the world champion while mum was out stranded on her bike

But there is no denying the longevity of one of the game’s favourite sons, who is still plying his trade 14 years after that emotional night at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield.

In fact, only defeat in the final qualifying round by Leeds cueman Peter Lines prevented the 42-year-old Irishman from appearing at last week’s williamhill.com UK Championship at the York Barbican as a player.

Instead, we had to make do with his soft dulcet Dublin tones as part of the BBC commentary team.

His story behind his Crucible success on May 5, 1997 is heart-warming, following in the footsteps of one of his heroes, Alex Higgins.

“To be at the table on the final night of the World Snooker Championship, potting the balls you need to become the winner of our sport’s greatest prize, is every player’s dream,” writes Doherty, in his new autobiography, Living in the Frame: My Story.

“It had been mine since I was a boy. I’d got into snooker through watching the weekly series Pot Black on television but I realised I wanted to be a professional – wanted to be world champion – when I saw Alex Higgins win his second world title in 1982.

“I was 12 years old and sat there transfixed. Alex was the most exciting player in the game and had helped to put it on the map through his brilliant play and well-documented off-table antics. I can still see him that night,stood on the stage at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield after beating Ray Reardon in the final, tears rolling down his face, calling for his wife and baby daughter to join him as he cradled the silver trophy.

“It was such an incredible, unforgettable moment and I knew as I watched from my front room in Ranelagh, Dublin that I wanted to be part of that world. And there I was, 15 years later, about to follow in Alex’s footsteps.”

Facing Doherty was Stephen Hendry, who dominated the sport in the Nineties to the same extent to which Steve Davis had proved nigh on impossible to beat in the Eighties.

“The odds were stacked against me going into the final,” recalled Doherty. “Stephen Hendry was unbeatable at the time. He’d won six world titles, including every single one since 1992. He had established himself as one of the greatest players in the history of the sport and the Crucible was like his back room. For these reasons, most people would have backed him to win.

“But I believed in myself. It was, after all, only a two-horse race. I’d beaten him before and I saw this as my big chance to join the pantheon of snooker legends. I pictured myself lifting the trophy in that iconic arena, the famous twinkle lights providing the backdrop for a hundred photographs as I held the silverware aloft. I imagined the applause and the acclaim.

“I had to believe I was capable of experiencing that because if I’d allowed myself to think about Stephen, about how good he was and the damage he could do, then I don’t think I’d have won.”

The book relates the story of how his mum went off for a bike ride as she could not stand the tension, only to get a puncture and was left stranded not knowing how her son had got on at the Crucible.

“My family didn’t come over for the final,” he said. “They couldn’t take the nerves and the pressure. A crew from RTE went round to my mam’s house to film them watching the match but she’d gone out on her bike. She couldn’t even take watching it on the TV.

“My mother ended up getting a puncture and had no way of knowing what had happened in the final. She didn’t have a mobile phone and, anyway, she tried to avoid people in case they gave her the latest score. She just wanted to shut the final out until it was over. She had to walk back to the family home in Ranelagh from Donnybrook, pushing her bike all the way, and called in at a friend’s house, which is how she found out I’d won.”

Doherty’s game-plan was to make it a tactical game of safety, and try to feed off Hendry’s errors. It worked.

“I went into the final full of hope with the feeling that I could come out on top if I played a good tactical match and punished his mistakes. I wasn’t going to out-score Stephen or out-pot him, but I could compete in the safety department and I knew if he missed that I could feed off the crumbs. I got stronger and stronger as the match went on.

“I’d led Stephen 15-7 before he won the last two frames of the third session. 15-9 was still a good lead but then he won the first three of the final session and suddenly it was 15-12.

“In the 28th frame, I made a break of 61 but he had a chance to steal it. That would have turned the match and made it an unpleasant 15-minute interval for me, spent contemplating defeat having held such a massive lead. However, he missed a red down a cushion and instead of 15-13 it was 16-12. I won the next frame and I was so relieved at that point that I felt great, as if I couldn’t lose. Potting the last few balls was just surreal. It was like it was happening in slow motion. I thought of Alex Higgins and my dad, who watched Alex’s 1982 victory with me and who died when I was 13. I just wished he could have been there to see me do it.

“I held up the cup just as I’d imagined, only the reality was far better. It was a fantastic feeling.”