T&A City reporter Simon Parker knows Dean Windass well.

He got inside the mind of the legendary Bantams striker when he ghost-wrote his autobiography.

In this special feature, he explains why retiring from football hit Windass particularly hard, leading to a downward spiral into depression and the public admission last weekend that he nearly took his own life.

Dean Windass was the alpha male footballer.

He was the loud-mouthed, brash leader of the pack. The face at the front whenever trouble was brewing.

First and foremost, Windass was a good player and scored goals for fun. Only two strikers have scored more for Bradford City in the club’s history.

And he loved the attention that came with being the “main man”.

As the spotlight shone brightly, he would puff out his chest and dive into battle.

But the bluster and bravado masked a softer centre. For all the machismo, there was a very sensitive side to his character.

Windass would feed off the terrace abuse and loved proving the critics wrong. But deep down, he would take a lot to heart.

When things went wrong, the head would drop. He wanted to be liked and adored.

I got to know him well when I ghost-wrote his autobiography a few years ago.

We already had a good working relationship from my time covering the club but the 18 months or so we spent crafting his book revealed another side to him.

Seeing him at home and around his family, the mask would come down.

Speaking to his wife Helen, I learned a lot more about the “Peter Pan” boy who had never grown up and craved the plaudits and positive comments.

We did a chapter with her for the book. Reading those pages back now, in light of the shocking revelations of the past week, are eye-opening.

“He’s either very high and full of himself or rock-bottom low,” she said at the time. “Everything is black or white with him and there’s no grey area.

“You have to take the rough with the smooth but Dean struggles. He can’t seem to handle it and finds it hard to cope when things go wrong.”

She talked about how hard Windass found it to leave football at the door when he got home. Bad results or performances would be mulled over for days.

The game was his life. To such an extent that one former apprentice told me that he would often turn up at the club when the rest were on a day off and train with the youth team.

When I asked Helen how her husband would get on the day he stopped kicking a ball about, the answer said it all.

“It’s going to be a very difficult day when he has to get his head round the fact that he’s no longer Dean Windass the footballer. It will be like a big hole in his life.”

Windass is now trying to dig himself out of that hole before he becomes engulfed. The depression he has admitted to suffering from is no less worrying because those close to him could see it coming.

The absence of football, his focal point, led to the break-up of his 18-year marriage – although they are said to be trying again for a reconciliation.

He claimed that his life has gone off the rails to such an extent that he twice attempted to end it all.

Whether that was the case or not, his public cry for help has to be acted upon.

Windass will book into the Sporting Chance clinic next month to seek the treatment he clearly needs. All who know him, and those fans who cheered his goals down the years, will be praying that he emerges free of the demons that have been dragging him down.

But whether or not you feel it right he should have gone so public with his problems, Windass has once again raised the issue of former professional sportsmen struggling to deal with life beyond that bubble.

It is depressingly familiar ground in light of the recent Gary Speed tragedy and others such as Terry Newton.

The call for sports to do more to prepare players for a return to “normality” has grown stronger.

Ian Ormondroyd’s playing days were up at 33 because of persistent ankle injuries. He can understand the emptiness that Windass is feeling.

He said: “It’s suddenly losing that adulation that hurts the most.

“For me, it was a more gradual decline and I could feel the sands of time shifting because I was injured. But somebody like Deano finished at a decent level and it will have hit him very hard.

“When you’re in football, that is everything. You don’t have a lot of other things in your life.

“Suddenly you lose that lifestyle and the dressing-room banter and you’re left wondering what to do next. That routine has gone.

“I didn’t have any academic qualifications to fall back on. You can play a lot of golf but soon get to the stage where you’re bored and need to do something properly.

“Fortunately for me I got the chance to help with the football community scheme at Bradford and I’m still doing that now. It’s a job that I enjoy.

“But a lot of professional sportsmen have too much time on their hands. They can get dragged down into gambling or drinking – there are a lot of temptations out there.

“And those can take over your life when there’s nothing else to do. As Dean said, he’s been used to having a lot of money and spending it on fancy cars and the like but now that’s gone.”

The players’ union have increased their education schemes for youngsters entering the professional game to ensure they have a fall-back plan if football does not work out.

Windass has highlighted the growing problems at the other end of the scale. Something similar should be put in place to help those reaching the limit of their careers.

Ormondroyd added: “The suicide rate for ex-sportsmen is getting higher. More needs to be done for what you’re going to do afterwards.”