All the Leeds-born talent truly desired to do was compete on the baize.
A love for the game, developed at the age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his home's central table in the city of Leeds, would lead to a professional career that saw him claim six significant titles in a six-year span.
The present year marks a score of years since the beloved Hunter died from cancer, just days before to his 28th birthday.
But notwithstanding the tragic departure of a once-in-a-generation player that went beyond the sport he adored, his enduring mark on the sport and those who knew him remain as powerful today.
"It was impossible to foresee in a billion years the boy would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter recalls.
"But he just loved it."
Hunter's father remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" except for snooker as a young boy.
"He never stopped," he says. "He practiced every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a local club to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the transition from miniature games with great skill.
His natural ability would be developed by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now defunct club in the Leeds district of Yeadon.
With his parents' pleas 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 forging a career in the game.
It proved a masterstroke. Within a short period, their young son had won his initial major win, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's toughest events to win because of the involvement of exclusively the best, Hunter was victorious three times, in consecutive years.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never deserted him.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"If you met him you'd take to him," Kristina states. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you comfortable."
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, boyish good looks and honest interview style, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Snooker World's Beckham'.
In that year, a year that should have marked the zenith of his talent, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the snooker circuit speak of the man's extraordinary commitment to fulfill commitments to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while enduring treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter kept playing through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The Crucible Theatre when he competed in the World Championships that year.
When he died in autumn 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its most popular brothers.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to suffer such a loss."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in palaces and castles but in snooker halls and clubs across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide accessible training to children all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, anti-social behavior in some areas fell sharply.
"The aim remained for a scheme to help get kids off the street," one coach said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a huge coaching programme, which has opened up playing opportunities to children internationally.
"Paul would have loved 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 online help his parents stay "close to him".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul at any moment," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she adds. "At first it was sad, but I'd rather somebody remember him 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 etched into the sport's history.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, begins later this month. The winner will lift the Paul Hunter Trophy.
But for all his successes, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
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