All the young snooker player always wished to do was practice the game.
A competitive passion, sparked at the tender age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his home's central table in the city of Leeds, would lead to a life on the tour that saw him win half a dozen major wins in a six-year span.
Now marks a score of years since the popular Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But in spite of the loss of a generational talent that transcended the game he loved, his influence and memory on the sport and those who followed his career endure as vibrant now.
"We could not have predicted in a million years the boy would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter recalls.
"Yet he just was passionate about it."
Alan Hunter recounts how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a young boy.
"He was relentless," he says. "He practiced every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a local club to play on regulation tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the transition from miniature games with great skill.
His raw skill would be developed by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now former establishment in the Leeds district of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as training came first, his parents took the "chance" of taking Hunter out of school at the age of 14 to fully focus on forging a career in the game.
It was a resounding success. Within five years, their still-teenage son had won his first ranking title, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's hardest tournaments to win because of the involvement of elite players only, Hunter was victorious a trio of times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his achievements in competition, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never faded.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"When encountering him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina adds. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you comfortable."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had daughter Evie, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "humorous, caring" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his easy charm, youthful appearance and candid way with the press, not to mention his prodigious ability, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In the mid-2000s, a year that should have been the zenith of his talent, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple stories from across the snooker circuit highlight the man's extraordinary willingness to honor obligations to charity matches, tournaments, and media duties, all while enduring treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter played on through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The famous Sheffield venue when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he died in October 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its best-loved members.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to lose a child."
Hunter's true contribution would be felt not in royal circles but in community venues across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide no-cost coaching to youths all over the country.
The scheme was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas plummeted.
"The goal was for a program to help offer a constructive activity," one organizer said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a significant coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"He would have embraced what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a chairman in the sport stated.
Classic footage of their son's matches online help his parents stay "in touch with his memory".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul at any moment," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she concludes. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be mentioned at all."
While he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's top honor is a part of the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most synonymous, commences later this month. The winner will lift the Paul Hunter Trophy.
But for all his successes, two decades after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
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