All Paul Hunter always wished to do was practice the game.
A love for the game, caught at the very young age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his parents' coffee table in his Leeds home, would lead to a pro playing days that saw him claim half a dozen major wins in a six-year span.
Now marks two decades since the popular Hunter succumbed to cancer, days short to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But in spite of the tragic departure of a generational talent that transcended the game he loved, his legacy and impact on the game and those who knew him remain as powerful today.
"We'd never have known in a million years Paul would become a pro on the circuit," Hunter's mum states.
"But he just was passionate about it."
His dad remembers how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a child.
"He was relentless," he notes. "He would play every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a community venue to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the leap from home play with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be coached by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now closed venue in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework regularly going unheeded as practice took priority, his parents took the "chance" of taking Hunter out of school at the mid-teens to fully concentrate on forging a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within half a decade, their still-teenage son had won his first ranking title, the late-nineties Welsh championship.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the involvement of only the top competitors, Hunter won on three occasions, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never deserted him.
"His demeanor was excellent did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"When encountering him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina continues. "Paul was fun. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's widow Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "wonderful, youthful, and fun personality" who was "witty, generous" and "never the first to depart from 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 poster boy for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In that year, a year that should have signaled the height of his career, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the snooker circuit speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to fulfill commitments to charity matches, tournaments, and media duties, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The World Championship arena when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he succumbed in autumn 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "No parent should experience any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in palaces and castles but in community venues across the UK.
The foundation he inspired, set up before his death, would provide accessible training to young people all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The aim remained for a scheme to help offer a constructive activity," one organizer said.
The Foundation helped pave the way for a huge coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"It would have thrilled him 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 wonderful!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she concludes. "At first it was sad, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be recalled."
While he never won the World Championship, the common opinion that Hunter would have gone on to lift snooker's ultimate trophy is etched into 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 spirit, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
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