A tech journalist and cultural critic with over a decade of experience covering digital transformation and societal impacts.
All the young snooker player truly desired to do was practice the game.
A sporting bug, caught at the very young age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his family's living room table in his Leeds home, would culminate in a pro playing days that saw him claim six significant titles in a six-year span.
Now marks a score of years since the popular Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his birthday marking 28 years.
But in spite of the loss of a phenomenal skill that transcended the sport he adored, his enduring mark on the game and those who knew him endure as vibrant now.
"We could not have predicted in a million years our son would become a career sportsman," Kristina Hunter says.
"However he just loved it."
Alan Hunter recalls how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" other than snooker as a young boy.
"His dedication was constant," he notes. "He competed every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the transition from miniature games with aplomb.
His natural ability would be coached by the 1986 World Champion Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, at a now former establishment in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework often being ignored as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old to fully dedicate himself to building a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within half a decade, their adolescent had won his maior professional trophy, the 1998 Welsh Open.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the presence of elite players only, Hunter triumphed three times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's approachable nature never faded.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"If you met him you'd like him," Kristina adds. "He brought joy. He'd make you comfortable."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "wonderful, youthful, and fun personality" who was "funny, kind" and "never the first to depart from the party".
With his easy charm, youthful appearance and honest interview style, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's pin-up for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In the mid-2000s, a year that should have been the height of his career, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple accounts from across the snooker circuit speak of the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter played on through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The famous Sheffield venue when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he died in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its best-loved members.
"The pain is immense," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for 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 no-cost coaching to young people all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas plummeted.
"The idea was for a platform to help offer a constructive activity," one official said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a major coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children internationally.
"He would have embraced what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a leading figure in the sport stated.
Historic matches of their son's matches on YouTube help his parents stay "connected to him".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's wonderful!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she concludes. "Before it would be tears, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be spoken of."
Although he never won the World Championship, the common opinion that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, starts later this month. The winner will lift the Paul Hunter Trophy.
But for all his accomplishments, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's personality, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is always remembered.
A tech journalist and cultural critic with over a decade of experience covering digital transformation and societal impacts.