🔗 Share this article 'He was a joy': Remembering the game's lost great 20 years on. Paul Hunter secured The Masters on three occasions during a brief yet brilliant career. Everything the young snooker player truly desired to do was compete on the baize. A love for the game, caught at the age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his parents' coffee table in Leeds, would lead to a pro playing days that saw him secure six major trophies in six years. The present year marks 20 years since the beloved Hunter passed away from cancer, mere days prior to his 28th birthday. But in spite of the passing of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the game he loved, his influence and memory on the sport and those who followed his career remain as strong as ever. 'His passion was clear': The Formative Years "We could not have predicted in a billion years Paul would become a professional snooker player," Hunter's mum says. "Yet he just loved it." Alan Hunter recounts how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a young boy. "His dedication was constant," he says. "He would play every night after school." A prodigy: Hunter was acquainted with snooker from the very young age. After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a community venue to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the transition from table top snooker with aplomb. His raw skill would be nurtured by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now former establishment in the area of Yeadon. Metoric Ascent: From Teenager to Champion With his family's urging to do his homework regularly going unheeded as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" 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 five years, 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 consecutive years. 'A Gracious Competitor': The Man Behind the Cue But for all his achievements in competition, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never deserted him. "He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody." "Upon meeting him you'd like him," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed." Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "funny, kind" and "never the first to depart from the party". With his natural likability, handsome features and candid way with the press, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new 21st Century. No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Beckham of the Baize'. Courage in Crisis: His Final Years In that year, a year that should have marked the height of his career, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy. Multiple stories from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary commitment to keep promises to public appearances and promotional work, 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 turned out for the World Championships that year. When he died in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its best-loved members. "It's awful," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to go through that pain." An Enduring Legacy: Giving Back Hunter's true impact would be felt not in royal circles but in local sports centers across the UK. The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide no-cost coaching to children all over the country. The scheme was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas plummeted. "The idea was for a program to help offer a constructive activity," one coach said. The Foundation helped pave the way for a huge coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children globally. "Paul would have loved what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a senior official in the sport stated. Never Forgotten: Two Decades On Historic matches of their son's matches via the internet help his parents stay "in touch with his memory". "I can bring it up and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!" "We don't mind talking about Paul," she continues. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be mentioned at all." Although he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have secured snooker's top honor 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 Paul Hunter Trophy. But for all his achievements, two decades after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is never forgotten.
Paul Hunter secured The Masters on three occasions during a brief yet brilliant career. Everything the young snooker player truly desired to do was compete on the baize. A love for the game, caught at the age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his parents' coffee table in Leeds, would lead to a pro playing days that saw him secure six major trophies in six years. The present year marks 20 years since the beloved Hunter passed away from cancer, mere days prior to his 28th birthday. But in spite of the passing of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the game he loved, his influence and memory on the sport and those who followed his career remain as strong as ever. 'His passion was clear': The Formative Years "We could not have predicted in a billion years Paul would become a professional snooker player," Hunter's mum says. "Yet he just loved it." Alan Hunter recounts how his son "cared little for anything else" other than snooker as a young boy. "His dedication was constant," he says. "He would play every night after school." A prodigy: Hunter was acquainted with snooker from the very young age. After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a community venue to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the young Hunter made the transition from table top snooker with aplomb. His raw skill would be nurtured by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from nearby Bradford, at a now former establishment in the area of Yeadon. Metoric Ascent: From Teenager to Champion With his family's urging to do his homework regularly going unheeded as practice took priority, his parents took the "gamble" 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 five years, 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 consecutive years. 'A Gracious Competitor': The Man Behind the Cue But for all his achievements in competition, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never deserted him. "He was incredibly composed did Paul," Alan says. "He connected with everybody." "Upon meeting him you'd like him," Kristina continues. "He was enjoyable. He'd make you relaxed." Hunter's wife Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "funny, kind" and "never the first to depart from the party". With his natural likability, handsome features and candid way with the press, not to mention his considerable talent, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new 21st Century. No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'The Beckham of the Baize'. Courage in Crisis: His Final Years In that year, a year that should have marked the height of his career, Hunter was told he had cancer and would later undergo chemotherapy. Multiple stories from across the professional tour speak of the man's extraordinary commitment to keep promises to public appearances and promotional work, 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 turned out for the World Championships that year. When he died in October 2006, snooker's close-knit fraternity lost one of its best-loved members. "It's awful," Kristina says. "I wouldn't wish any mum and dad to go through that pain." An Enduring Legacy: Giving Back Hunter's true impact would be felt not in royal circles but in local sports centers across the UK. The charity in his name, set up before his death, would provide no-cost coaching to children all over the country. The scheme was so successful that, according to reports, local youth crime rates in some areas plummeted. "The idea was for a program to help offer a constructive activity," one coach said. The Foundation helped pave the way for a huge coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children globally. "Paul would have loved what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a senior official in the sport stated. Never Forgotten: Two Decades On Historic matches of their son's matches via the internet help his parents stay "in touch with his memory". "I can bring it up and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!" "We don't mind talking about Paul," she continues. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be mentioned at all." Although he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have secured snooker's top honor 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 Paul Hunter Trophy. But for all his achievements, two decades after his death it is Paul Hunter's spirit, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is never forgotten.