All Paul Hunter ever wanted to do was practice the game.
A love for the game, developed at the very young age of three with the help of a tiny snooker set on his home's central table in his Leeds home, would result in a life on the tour that saw him secure half a dozen major wins in half a dozen years.
This year marks a score of years since the popular Hunter succumbed to cancer, days short to his birthday marking 28 years.
But in spite of the passing of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the pastime he cherished, his influence and memory on the game and those who followed his career endure as strong as ever.
"It was impossible to foresee in a million years the boy would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter says.
"However he just was passionate about it."
Hunter's father remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" besides snooker as a child.
"His dedication was constant," he says. "He practiced every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a community venue to play on full-size tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the leap from home play with aplomb.
His natural ability would be developed by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from the adjacent city, at a now defunct club in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as the game dominated, 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 paid off in spades. Within a short period, their young son had won his initial major win, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the lineup featuring elite players only, Hunter triumphed 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 faded.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd take to him," Kristina states. "He brought joy. 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 "witty, generous" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his effortless appeal, handsome features and straight-talking media manner, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In 2005, a year that should have signaled the height of his career, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo aggressive treatment.
Multiple accounts from across the snooker circuit attest to the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to public appearances and promotional work, all while undergoing treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter played on through the illness and received a tumultuous reception at The famous Sheffield venue when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in the mid-2000s, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its cherished personalities.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to lose a child."
Hunter's true impact 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 no-cost coaching to young people all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The idea was for a platform to help get kids off the street," one coach said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a huge coaching programme, which has provided playing opportunities to children all over the world.
"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 "close to him".
"I can watch it and I can watch Paul at any moment," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she adds. "Initially it was painful, 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 gone on to lift snooker's top honor is ingrained in 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 accomplishments, a generation after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is never forgotten.