All Paul Hunter always wished to do was play snooker.
A competitive passion, caught at the tender age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his parents' coffee table in Leeds, would culminate in a professional career that saw him secure six major trophies in six years.
This year marks a score of years since the popular Hunter passed away from cancer, just days before to his birthday marking 28 years.
But notwithstanding the passing of a once-in-a-generation player that went beyond the pastime he cherished, his legacy and impact on the game and those who knew him endure as vibrant now.
"We could not have predicted in a lifetime the boy would become a pro on the circuit," Kristina Hunter states.
"However he just was passionate about it."
Hunter's father remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" except for snooker as a young boy.
"His dedication was constant," he says. "He would play every night after school."
After persistently asking his dad to take him to a community venue to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the budding player made the jump from miniature games with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be coached by the 1986 World Champion Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now former establishment in the Leeds district of Yeadon.
With his mother and father's requests 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 concentrate on carving out a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within half a decade, their still-teenage son had won his first ranking title, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's most difficult competitions to win because of the involvement of exclusively the best, Hunter won a trio of times, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his triumphs in the sport, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never left him.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He was liked by everybody."
"Upon meeting him you'd take to him," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you feel at ease."
Hunter's partner Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "humorous, caring" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his natural likability, handsome features and straight-talking media manner, 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 been the height of his career, Hunter was diagnosed with cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple anecdotes from across the sporting world speak of the man's extraordinary dedication to fulfill commitments to public appearances and promotional work, all while enduring treatment.
Despite gruelling side effects, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The Crucible Theatre when he turned out for the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in October 2006, snooker's family-like circuit lost one of its most popular brothers.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for any mum and dad to lose a child."
Hunter's true legacy would be felt not in high society but in community venues 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 scheme was so successful that, according to reports, anti-social behavior in some areas dropped significantly.
"The aim remained for a platform to help provide a positive outlet," one official said.
The Foundation helped lay the groundwork for a major coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children internationally.
"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 online help his parents stay "connected to him".
"I can watch it and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's marvellous!"
"We like to reminisce about Paul," she adds. "Before it would be tears, but I'd rather somebody remember him than him not be mentioned at all."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the highly probable notion that Hunter would have eventually won snooker's top honor is a part of the sport's history.
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, 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.
A tech journalist and VR specialist with over a decade of experience covering emerging technologies and digital culture.