All Paul Hunter truly desired to do was compete on the baize.
A love for the game, sparked at the tender age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his family's living room table in his Leeds home, would result in a pro playing days that saw him secure six significant titles in six years.
The present year marks two decades since the popular Hunter died from cancer, just days before to his birthday marking 28 years.
But in spite of the passing of a generational talent that rose above the game he loved, his legacy and impact on the game and those who knew him remain as strong as ever.
"We'd never have known in a million years Paul would become a career sportsman," his mother says.
"But he just was passionate about it."
Alan Hunter remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" except for snooker as a youth.
"His dedication was constant," he notes. "He competed every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on regulation tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the jump from table top snooker with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be nurtured by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, at a now closed venue in the north Leeds suburb of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as practice took priority, 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 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 presence of elite players only, Hunter won three times, in the early 2000s.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never faded.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd like him," Kristina states. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you feel at ease."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "wonderful, youthful, and fun personality" who was "witty, generous" and "typically the final guest at 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 Beckham of the Baize'.
In 2005, a year that should have been the zenith of his talent, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple accounts from across the professional tour highlight the man's extraordinary commitment to honor obligations to public appearances and promotional work, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The World Championship arena when he competed in the World Championships that year.
When he died in the mid-2000s, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its most popular brothers.
"The pain is immense," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to lose a child."
Hunter's true contribution 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 free snooker sessions to youths all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, anti-social behavior in some areas plummeted.
"The goal was for a program to help provide a positive outlet," one coach said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a significant coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children globally.
"He would have embraced what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a senior official in the sport stated.
Historic matches of their son's matches via the internet help his parents stay "in touch with his memory".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We don't mind talking 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 highly probable notion that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, starts later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his brilliant talent on the table, that will ensure he is always remembered.
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