All the Leeds-born talent truly desired to do was play snooker.
A love for the game, sparked at the very young age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his parents' coffee table in Leeds, would culminate in a pro playing days that saw him secure six major trophies in a six-year span.
Now marks 20 years since the popular Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But despite the tragic departure of a generational talent that went beyond the sport he adored, his influence and memory on the sport and those who were close to him endure as powerful today.
"We could not have predicted in a billion years Paul would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter says.
"However he just was passionate about it."
Alan Hunter remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" other than snooker as a young boy.
"His dedication was constant," he says. "He practiced every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a community venue to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the transition from miniature games with great skill.
His natural ability would be nurtured by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now closed venue in the area of Yeadon.
With his parents' pleas 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 carving out a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within half a decade, their adolescent had won his initial major win, the late-nineties Welsh championship.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the lineup featuring only the top competitors, Hunter was victorious a trio of times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never faded.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you comfortable."
Hunter's widow Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "incredible, lively, and kind spirit" who was "humorous, caring" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his easy charm, boyish good looks and straight-talking media manner, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new 21st Century.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In 2005, a year that should have been the zenith of his talent, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the sporting world highlight the man's extraordinary dedication to honor obligations to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter played on through the illness and received a standing ovation at The Crucible Theatre when he competed in the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its cherished personalities.
"The pain is immense," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true legacy would be felt not in royal circles but in snooker halls and clubs across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide accessible training to youths all over the country.
The scheme was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The idea was for a platform to help offer a constructive activity," one coach said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a huge coaching programme, which has opened up playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"Paul would have loved 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 online help his parents stay "close to him".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she concludes. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be recalled."
Although he never won the World Championship, the common opinion 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 associated, commences later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
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