All the Leeds-born talent ever wanted to do was compete on the baize.
A sporting bug, sparked at the very young age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his parents' coffee table in the city of Leeds, would culminate in a professional career that saw him secure six significant titles in six years.
This year marks 20 years since the popular Hunter passed away from cancer, days short to his birthday marking 28 years.
But notwithstanding the loss of a generational talent that went beyond the game he loved, his legacy and impact on the sport and those who were close to him endure as strong as ever.
"We could not have predicted in a lifetime Paul would become a career sportsman," Kristina Hunter states.
"But he just loved it."
His dad recalls how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a young boy.
"He was relentless," he notes. "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 young Hunter made the transition from table top snooker with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be coached by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now closed venue in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework often being ignored as training came first, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the mid-teens to fully dedicate himself to forging a career in the game.
It proved a masterstroke. Within half a decade, their young son had won his maior professional trophy, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's hardest tournaments to win because of the involvement of exclusively the best, Hunter won on three occasions, in consecutive years.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's approachable nature never left him.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"When encountering him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina states. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had daughter Evie, 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, handsome features and straight-talking media manner, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy 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 diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple accounts from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary willingness to fulfill commitments to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter kept playing through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The famous Sheffield venue when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in October 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its most popular brothers.
"The pain is immense," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in palaces and castles but in snooker halls and clubs across the UK.
The Paul Hunter Foundation, set up before his death, would provide no-cost coaching to children all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas fell sharply.
"The goal was for a program to help get kids off the street," one coach said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a significant coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children globally.
"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 "close to him".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's wonderful!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she adds. "At first it was sad, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be recalled."
While he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have gone on to lift snooker's greatest prize is etched into the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, starts later this month. The winner will lift the trophy named in his honor.
But for all his successes, two decades after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his brilliant talent on the table, that will ensure he is always remembered.
Lena is a passionate tech journalist and gaming enthusiast, dedicated to uncovering the latest trends and innovations.
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Robert Peterson
Robert Peterson
Robert Peterson
Robert Peterson