All Paul Hunter always wished to do was compete on the baize.
A love for the game, sparked at the age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his family's living room table in Leeds, would culminate in a life on the tour that saw him claim six major trophies in six years.
This year marks a score of years since the adored Hunter succumbed to cancer, just days before to his 28th birthday.
But in spite of the loss of a once-in-a-generation player that went beyond the game he loved, his legacy and impact on the game and those who were close to him remain as powerful today.
"It was impossible to foresee in a lifetime our son would become a pro on the circuit," his mother says.
"However he just loved it."
Alan Hunter recounts how his son "showed no interest in anything else" other than snooker as a youth.
"His dedication was constant," he notes. "He practiced every night after school."
After repeatedly pleading with his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the transition from table top snooker with remarkable ease.
His raw skill would be coached by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, 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 the game dominated, his parents took the "risk" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old to fully focus on building a career in the game.
It was a resounding success. Within a short period, their adolescent had won his initial major win, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the involvement of elite players only, Hunter triumphed a trio of times, in consecutive years.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never left him.
"His demeanor was excellent did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina adds. "He brought joy. He'd make you feel at ease."
Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "witty, generous" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his effortless appeal, youthful appearance and candid way with the press, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was dubbed 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In the mid-2000s, a year that should have signaled the height of his career, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple stories from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to fulfill commitments to public appearances and promotional work, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter played on 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 family-like circuit 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 royal circles but in local sports centers across the UK.
The foundation he inspired, set up before his death, would provide free snooker sessions to youths all over the country.
The scheme was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas dropped significantly.
"The aim remained for a scheme to help get kids off the street," one coach said.
The Foundation helped pave the way for a major 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 leading figure in the sport stated.
Classic footage 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 anytime," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We like to reminisce about Paul," she continues. "Before it would be tears, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be spoken of."
Although he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have secured snooker's ultimate trophy is ingrained in the sport's legend.
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 forever celebrated.
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