Those who knew Anderson during his peak speak of a footballer blessed with intuition, flair and courage. At Wydad, his ability to glide past markers made him a fan favourite. In Spain, he represented a new wave of Ivorian talents reaching elite European football a symbol of promise for a generation from Gagnoa who saw in him a mirror of their own dreams. Yet as his career slowed and injuries crept in, the once-bright path seemed to dim. Post-football transitions are difficult for many former players, but in Andersons case, close associates say the decline was sudden, severe and frightening.
Today, locals in Gagnoa describe a former star seen roaming neighbourhoods aimlessly, disoriented, unrecognisable from the disciplined professional he once was. The small city that once celebrated him now watches on helplessly, caught between admiration for the man he used to be and concern for the one he has become. Mental health remains a deeply misunderstood subject in many African communities, and Andersons reported condition has triggered a painful conversation one long avoided in the football ecosystem.
Former teammates have begun privately calling for urgent intervention, insisting that the 33-year-old deserves support, care and dignity. Among fans, there is a growing hope that the Ivorian football fraternity, his former clubs and the countrys health structures will step in to offer help. Football, after all, is quick to celebrate talent at its peak but its true measure lies in how it protects its own when the applause fades.
For now, the streets of Gagnoa bear silent witness to a man fighting an invisible enemy. Bobley Andersons story is no longer just about football it is a reminder of the fragility of sporting careers, the weight of expectations and the urgent need to prioritise mental health in African sport. Hisi journey, once defined by goals and glory, now calls for compassion and a collective responsibility to help one of Ivorian footballs own find his way back.