Dual premiership player Nobby Clarke was a regular face at Windy Hill for the best part of three decades, but the sad reality is few people really knew him. In a fantastic new publication Glory & Fame: The Rise and Rise of Essendon Football Club, Paul Daffey looks back on the life of Neil Clarke, who passed away in 2003. An excerpt from this article follows.

When you think of great players, you imagine them to be larger than life. There’s something in you that wants them to be larger than life. Terry Daniher seemed worthy of a statue in the roundabout at the bottom of Napier Street, perched on a horse in his footy boots. Images of Simon Madden rising above a pack in front of the Showers Stand are etched in the minds of all who grew up on The Big Replay. Tim Watson was so good at bustling around packs that they should have named a pinball machine after him.

Neil ‘Nobby’ Clarke was a great Essendon player in a different mould. He was quiet and efficient, more likely to be at the end of the row in team photos than in the middle with the big guys and the extroverts. He played in a back pocket, historically a position for battlers, but he was a vital member of the 1984-85 premiership teams. Nobby was good-looking, with dark skin and hair, and a smile that lit up Windy Hill. Over three decades, he was a player, mentor, recruiting staff member and senior runner. He loved being around the club, and everyone liked him. But the sad reality is that few knew him. Only ‘Sheeds’, Doc Reid and one or two others could say what was in his soul.

On the eve of the 1979 season, Nobby’s mother Fay found him at home in a coma. Nobby spent a night in hospital in a critical condition before recovering and resuming his footy career. Melbourne metropolitan newspapers described the cause of the incident as a mystery virus.

Ken Fraser, an assistant coach at Windy Hill in the late 1970s, says the coaching staff was aware that Nobby had personal issues after he arrived at the club as a teenager. Kevin Sheedy monitored Nobby’s body language, especially the glint in his eyes, and relied on his staff to help. “Nobby could get a bit flat sometimes,” Sheedy says.

Although inward, he thrived on being with his teammates. In the 1980s, the players had a room in the social club where wives and girlfriends joined them in unwinding away from the fans. Madden says Nobby was in the social room after every match. He was shy and drank very little, but he seemed happy there. Billy Duckworth remembers Nobby soaking up the premiership celebrations with gusto, if less alcohol than others. He thrived on a common cause. He enjoyed the company of those he trusted.

Nobby trusted Paul Collins. The pair met through Nobby’s wife Lyn, who in the 1970s had been a student at Pascoe Vale Girls High School when Collins was a teacher there. Nobby and Collins got to know each other in the 1980s and became close in the 1990s when they were on Essendon’s recruiting staff. Nobby confided to Collins that his smile often hid his feelings. “I can fool people,” he said.

At a recruiting meeting in 1998, Nobby was reluctant to take on any travelling missions because he wanted to be home for his daughters, and because he was battling clinical depression. He eased away from recruiting and began as a senior runner. Soon afterwards, he left the family. Through their 20 years of marriage, Lyn had always felt a slight distance, as if Nobby would let her get only so close. Around the time of their separation, Nobby tried to take his life. Lyn then came to realise his pain.
 
Glory and Fame: The Rise and Rise of Essendon Football Club is a superb new publication that traces the evolution of the club from the 1970s through until the modern day. In a series of essays complimented by iconic photos, we trace the glorious renaissance of the mighty Bombers. At just $39.95 it’s a great gift idea and 240-pages that are a must for every Essendon fan.