Everything the young snooker player always wished to do was compete on the baize.
A love for the game, caught at the tender age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his family's living room table in the city of Leeds, would result in a pro playing days that saw him secure six major trophies in six years.
This year marks 20 years since the beloved Hunter succumbed to cancer, mere days prior to his 28th birthday.
But in spite of the loss of a phenomenal skill that transcended the pastime he cherished, his influence and memory on the sport and those who followed his career endure as strong as ever.
"We could not have predicted in a lifetime Paul would become a pro on the circuit," his mother says.
"But he just loved it."
Alan Hunter recounts how his son "showed no interest in anything else" except for snooker as a child.
"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 professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the jump from home play with remarkable ease.
His mercurial talent would be developed by the snooker legend Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, at a now closed venue in the area of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old 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 late-nineties Welsh championship.
Considered one of snooker's toughest events to win because of the presence of only the top competitors, Hunter triumphed a trio of times, in the early 2000s.
But for all his achievements in competition, away from the game Hunter's humble charm never faded.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"When encountering him you'd enjoy his company," Kristina states. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you comfortable."
Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "funny, kind" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his easy charm, handsome features and candid way with the press, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's poster boy for the new 21st Century.
No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Snooker World's Beckham'.
In 2005, a year that should have marked the height of his career, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple stories from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to fulfill commitments to charity matches, tournaments, and media duties, all while going through treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter played on through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The World Championship arena when he played at 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. "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 local sports centers across the UK.
The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide free snooker sessions to children all over the country.
The program was so successful that, according to reports, anti-social behavior in some areas fell sharply.
"The idea was for a program to help provide a positive outlet," one official said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a huge coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"Paul would have loved 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 via the internet help his parents stay "connected to him".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's wonderful!"
"We don't mind talking about Paul," she continues. "Before it would be tears, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be mentioned at all."
Although he never won the World Championship, the common opinion that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's folklore.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most associated, starts later this month. The winner will lift the Paul Hunter Trophy.
But for all his successes, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is always remembered.