Everything Paul Hunter ever wanted to do was play snooker.
A sporting bug, sparked at the tender age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his parents' coffee table in his Leeds home, would culminate in a professional career that saw him claim six major trophies in a six-year span.
This year marks two decades since the adored Hunter died from cancer, just days before to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But notwithstanding the tragic departure of a generational talent that rose above the sport he adored, his legacy and impact on the sport and those who followed his career persist as powerful today.
"It was impossible to foresee in a lifetime the boy would become a professional snooker player," Hunter's mum says.
"Yet he just was passionate about it."
Alan Hunter recalls how his son "showed no interest in anything else" except for 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 local club to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the jump from home play with aplomb.
His raw skill would be developed by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now closed venue in the north Leeds suburb of Yeadon.
With his family's urging 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 was a resounding success. Within five years, their still-teenage son had won his first ranking title, the late-nineties Welsh championship.
Considered one of snooker's hardest tournaments to win because of the lineup featuring only the top competitors, Hunter was victorious a trio of times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never left him.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"When encountering him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had daughter Evie, describes him as an "wonderful, youthful, and fun personality" who was "funny, kind" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his natural likability, boyish good looks and straight-talking media manner, not to mention his prodigious ability, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the new 21st Century.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'A Sporting Icon'.
In 2005, a year that should have been the zenith of his talent, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo aggressive treatment.
Multiple stories from across the snooker circuit attest to the man's extraordinary willingness to fulfill commitments to public appearances and promotional work, all while enduring treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter kept playing through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The famous Sheffield venue when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he died in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true contribution would be felt not in palaces and castles 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, anti-social behavior in some areas dropped significantly.
"The aim remained for a platform to help get kids off the street," one coach said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a major coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children internationally.
"Paul would have loved what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a leading figure in the sport stated.
Archive videos of their son's matches on YouTube help his parents stay "close to him".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We like to reminisce about Paul," she concludes. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be recalled."
While he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's greatest prize is etched into the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is forever linked, commences later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his accomplishments, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his brilliant talent on the table, that will ensure he is never forgotten.
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