All the young snooker player ever wanted to do was practice the game.
A love for the game, developed at the tender age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his parents' coffee table in the city of Leeds, would culminate in a pro playing days that saw him secure six significant titles in six years.
The present year marks two decades since the beloved Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But despite the passing of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the sport he adored, his enduring mark on snooker and those who followed his career persist as strong as ever.
"We'd never have known in a billion years our son would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter recalls.
"However he just adored it."
Hunter's father recalls how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a youth.
"His dedication was constant," he says. "He would play every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on regulation tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the jump from table top snooker with aplomb.
His natural ability would be coached by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now defunct club in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework regularly going unheeded as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the age of 14 to fully dedicate himself to forging a career in the game.
It was a resounding success. Within a short period, their young son had won his first ranking title, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the presence of exclusively the best, Hunter triumphed three times, in the early 2000s.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's approachable nature never left him.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina continues. "Paul was fun. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "wonderful, youthful, and fun personality" who was "funny, kind" and "never the first to depart from the party".
With his easy charm, youthful appearance and honest interview style, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Snooker World's Beckham'.
In that year, a year that should have been the zenith of his talent, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo aggressive treatment.
Multiple accounts from across the sporting world speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to keep promises to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while going through treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter played on through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The Crucible Theatre when he competed in the World Championships that year.
When he succumbed in October 2006, snooker's tight community lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in high society but in snooker halls and clubs across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide free snooker sessions to young people all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The idea was for a program to help get kids off the street," one organizer said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a huge coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children internationally.
"It would have thrilled him what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a senior official in the sport stated.
Archive videos of their son's matches on YouTube help his parents stay "in touch with his memory".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she continues. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be mentioned at all."
While he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have secured snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, starts later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his brilliant talent on the table, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
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