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- By Scott Best
- 14 May 2026
All Paul Hunter ever wanted to do was practice the game.
A sporting bug, caught at the very young age of three with the help of a miniature snooker set on his family's living room table in Leeds, would lead to a professional career that saw him win half a dozen major wins in a six-year span.
The present year marks two decades since the adored Hunter passed away from cancer, just days before to his birthday marking 28 years.
But notwithstanding the loss of a once-in-a-generation player that went beyond the pastime he cherished, his enduring mark on the game and those who knew him remain as powerful today.
"We could not have predicted in a billion years our son would become a pro on the circuit," Kristina Hunter recalls.
"Yet he just loved it."
His dad recounts how his son "cared little for anything else" except for snooker as a young boy.
"He was relentless," he notes. "He competed every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a community venue to play on regulation tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the jump from home play with remarkable ease.
His raw skill would be coached by the 1986 World Champion Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now defunct club in the area of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework often being ignored as the game dominated, his parents took the "risk" of taking Hunter out of school at the age of 14 to fully concentrate on carving out a career in the game.
It paid off in spades. Within a short period, their young son had won his first ranking title, the late-nineties Welsh championship.
Considered one of snooker's hardest tournaments to win because of the involvement of elite players only, Hunter won on three occasions, in the early 2000s.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's approachable nature never deserted him.
"He had a great temperament did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"When encountering him you'd like him," Kristina continues. "He brought joy. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's widow Lindsey, with whom he had a daughter, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "witty, generous" and "always the last to leave the party".
With his natural likability, handsome features and honest interview style, not to mention his immense skill, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the modern era.
No wonder then, that he was christened 'The Beckham of the Baize'.
In 2005, a year that should have been the height of his career, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy.
Multiple accounts from across the snooker circuit highlight the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to public appearances and promotional work, all while enduring treatment.
Despite harsh reactions, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a standing ovation at The famous Sheffield venue when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its most popular brothers.
"It's awful," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to go through that pain."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in palaces and castles but in community venues 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, local youth crime rates in some areas dropped significantly.
"The goal was for a scheme to help offer a constructive activity," one official said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a major coaching programme, which has opened up playing opportunities to children globally.
"He would have embraced what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a chairman in the sport stated.
Archive videos of their son's matches online help his parents stay "close to him".
"I can bring it up and I can watch Paul whenever I wish," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We like to reminisce about Paul," she continues. "At first it was sad, but I'd rather somebody talk than him not be spoken of."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the common opinion that Hunter would have gone on to lift snooker's ultimate trophy is etched into the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most synonymous, begins later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his successes, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's personality, as much his spectacular skill with a cue, that will ensure he is never forgotten.
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