All the young snooker player always wished to do was compete on the baize.
A competitive passion, developed at the tender age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his family's living room table in the city of Leeds, would result in a professional career that saw him secure six significant titles in half a dozen years.
Now marks two decades since the beloved Hunter succumbed to cancer, just days before to his 28th birthday.
But in spite of the tragic departure of a phenomenal skill that transcended the pastime he cherished, his legacy and impact on the sport and those who followed his career persist as powerful today.
"It was impossible to foresee in a million years the boy would become a pro on the circuit," Kristina Hunter says.
"Yet he just loved it."
His dad recounts how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" other than snooker as a youth.
"He was relentless," he says. "He would play every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the transition from table top snooker with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be nurtured by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, at a now defunct club in the north Leeds suburb of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as the game dominated, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the age of 14 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 Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's toughest events to win because of the lineup featuring exclusively the best, Hunter triumphed a trio of times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never faded.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"If you met him you'd like him," Kristina continues. "Paul was fun. He'd make you feel at ease."
Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "humorous, caring" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his easy charm, handsome features and straight-talking media manner, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was dubbed 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In that year, a year that should have signaled the peak of his powers, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple accounts from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while going through treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter played on through the illness and received a standing ovation at The Crucible Theatre when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in autumn 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its best-loved members.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to suffer such a loss."
Hunter's true legacy would be felt not in palaces and castles but in local sports centers across the UK.
The Paul Hunter Foundation, set up before his death, would provide free snooker sessions to youths all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas plummeted.
"The goal was for a program to help provide a positive outlet," one official said.
The Foundation helped pave the way for a major coaching programme, which has opened up playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"It would have thrilled him what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a chairman in the sport stated.
Archive videos of their son's matches on YouTube help his parents stay "connected to him".
"I can watch it and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she continues. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be mentioned at all."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have gone on to lift snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most synonymous, begins later this month. The winner will lift the trophy named in his honor.
But for all his achievements, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is never forgotten.
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