All the Leeds-born talent always wished to do was practice the game.
A competitive passion, caught at the very young age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his family's living room table in Leeds, would lead to a life on the tour that saw him secure half a dozen major wins in a six-year span.
Now marks two decades since the adored Hunter died from cancer, mere days prior to his 28th birthday.
But notwithstanding the tragic departure of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the game he loved, his influence and memory on the sport and those who knew him endure as powerful today.
"We could not have predicted in a lifetime our son would become a career sportsman," his mother recalls.
"But he just adored it."
Alan Hunter recalls how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" except for snooker as a youth.
"He was relentless," he says. "He would play every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a local club to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the jump from miniature games with aplomb.
His mercurial talent would be developed by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now former establishment in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework often being ignored as training came first, his parents took the "risk" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old to fully focus on carving out a career in the game.
It was a resounding success. 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 lineup featuring elite players only, Hunter was victorious a trio of times, in consecutive years.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's approachable nature never faded.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina states. "Paul was fun. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's widow Lindsey, with whom he had daughter Evie, describes him as an "incredible, lively, and kind spirit" who was "witty, generous" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his effortless appeal, boyish good looks and candid way with the press, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's pin-up for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was dubbed 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In 2005, a year that should have signaled the peak of his powers, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the sporting world speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to honor obligations to public appearances and promotional work, all while going through treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The Crucible Theatre when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he succumbed in autumn 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its cherished personalities.
"The pain is immense," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in high society but in snooker halls and clubs across the UK.
The foundation he inspired, set up before his death, would provide accessible training to children all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The goal was for a platform to help offer a constructive activity," one coach said.
The Foundation helped pave the way for a huge coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children internationally.
"It would have thrilled him what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a senior official in the sport stated.
Classic footage of their son's matches online help his parents stay "in touch with his memory".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We like to reminisce about Paul," she adds. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be mentioned at all."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the common opinion that Hunter would have secured snooker's greatest prize is ingrained in the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most synonymous, starts later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is never forgotten.