All the Leeds-born talent ever wanted to do was play snooker.
A sporting bug, caught at the very young age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his home's central table in the city of Leeds, would culminate in a pro playing days that saw him secure six significant titles in a six-year span.
Now marks two decades since the adored Hunter succumbed to cancer, days short to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But despite the loss of a generational talent that rose above the sport he adored, his legacy and impact on snooker and those who knew him persist as vibrant now.
"It was impossible to foresee in a lifetime our son would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter states.
"But he just adored it."
His dad recalls how his son "cared little for anything else" except for snooker as a youth.
"He was relentless," he notes. "He would play every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a community venue to play on regulation tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the transition from table top snooker with aplomb.
His mercurial talent would be coached by the 1986 World Champion Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now former establishment in the north Leeds suburb of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests to do his homework regularly going unheeded as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old to fully concentrate on building a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within half a decade, their young son had won his first ranking title, the 1998 Welsh Open.
Considered one of snooker's toughest events to win because of the lineup featuring elite players only, Hunter triumphed on three occasions, in consecutive years.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never deserted him.
"His demeanor was excellent did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"When encountering him you'd like him," Kristina states. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "funny, kind" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his natural likability, boyish good looks and candid way with the press, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Snooker World's Beckham'.
In 2005, a year that should have signaled the height of his career, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the professional tour attest to the man's extraordinary commitment to fulfill commitments to public appearances and promotional work, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter kept playing through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The famous Sheffield venue when he competed in the World Championships that year.
When he died in autumn 2006, snooker's tight community lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in high society but in local sports centers across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide no-cost coaching to young people all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, anti-social behavior in some areas dropped significantly.
"The goal was for a scheme to help provide a positive outlet," one coach said.
The Foundation helped pave the way for a huge 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 senior official in the sport stated.
Classic footage of their son's matches online help his parents stay "connected to him".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she continues. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be recalled."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have secured snooker's ultimate trophy is a part of the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, commences later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his accomplishments, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is always remembered.
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