All the Leeds-born talent ever wanted to do was practice the game.
A competitive passion, sparked at the age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his family's living room table in his Leeds home, would result in a life on the tour that saw him claim six major trophies in half a dozen years.
Now marks two decades since the adored Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But notwithstanding the tragic departure of a phenomenal skill that rose above the sport he adored, his legacy and impact on the sport and those who followed his career remain as vibrant now.
"We could not have predicted in a million years Paul would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter recalls.
"Yet he just adored it."
His dad recounts how his son "showed no interest in anything else" other than snooker as a child.
"He was relentless," he notes. "He competed every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the leap from home play with remarkable ease.
His raw skill would be nurtured by the 1986 World Champion Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now closed venue in the Leeds district of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests to do his homework regularly going unheeded as training came first, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the age of 14 to fully dedicate himself to carving out a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within a short period, their adolescent had won his maior professional trophy, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's hardest tournaments to win because of the lineup featuring only the top competitors, Hunter won on three occasions, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never deserted him.
"He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had daughter Evie, describes him as an "incredible, lively, and kind spirit" who was "witty, generous" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his effortless appeal, boyish good looks and honest interview style, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In the mid-2000s, a year that should have signaled the height of his career, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple accounts from across the sporting world attest to the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to charity matches, tournaments, and media duties, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter kept playing through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The Crucible Theatre when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he succumbed in the mid-2000s, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for any mum and dad to suffer such a loss."
Hunter's true contribution would be felt not in high society 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 young people all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas dropped significantly.
"The idea was for a program to help offer a constructive activity," one official said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a huge coaching programme, which has opened up 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.
Archive videos of their son's matches on YouTube 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 marvellous!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she adds. "Before it would be tears, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be spoken of."
Although he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have secured snooker's ultimate trophy is etched into the sport's history.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most synonymous, begins later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, two decades after his death it is Paul Hunter's personality, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is never forgotten.
A tech journalist and digital anthropologist focusing on the societal impacts of emerging technologies and online communities.