Dozens of phones buzzed across the globe.

Rio Ferdinand, Mark Viduka, Jason Wilcox, even former manager David O'Leary were among those alerted to new messages in their Leeds United WhatsApp group last month.

It was David Batty's 57th birthday.

Only no-one who shared a dressing room with the ex-midfielder had the slightest idea where he was.

"I don't think anyone has seen him since we played together," Viduka said. "Everyone was wishing him happy birthday – but he's not even in the group."

To say Batty has kept a low profile since retiring in 2004 would be an understatement.

A series of amusing rumours have spread over the years as a result, amid claims Batty has become a superbike champion under a fake name, trained to be a master butcher and gone off grid to live in a caravan.

The reality is a little different, but this was someone who was never going to stay involved with the game.

Batty's agent, Hayden Evans, knew that better than most.

"It was clear from day one that he would never go into coaching, for example, and never seek that as a route back into football," he said.

"David has been as good as his word, which is him through and through.

"He always said, 'When I retire, that will be it. I won't have anything to do with the football industry'."

So, as two of his former clubs, Newcastle United and Leeds, meet on Wednesday night, just what happened to Batty?

It is a question that has been repeatedly asked.

Not least at the various reunions to mark Leeds' title triumph in 1992 or Blackburn Rovers' Premier League win three years later.

Batty was involved in both of those landmark achievements, but ex-Blackburn midfielder Mark Atkins has not caught up with him since their playing days.

"We have tried to get him to the dos we have had, but nobody can get hold of him," he said.

"He's not that type of person. Even if he was living five miles away, he wouldn't turn up because he's a very personal guy, really."

Aside from a rare trip to Elland Road to lay a wreath on the pitch in memory of his close friend Gary Speed, following his tragic death in 2011, Batty has tended to keep out of the public eye.

Viduka, who quietly opened a cafe in Croatia after hanging up his boots, can relate.

"In this day and age, everyone shows off everything they do in every moment, like what they had for breakfast," he said. "Who cares?

"If anyone was not going to be like that, it was Batts."

Rather than entertaining corporate guests, representing footballers or working in the media, Batty always planned to dedicate his time solely to his family in Yorkshire after retiring.

It has only added to the cult surrounding a player who former Leeds team-mate Eirik Bakke called one of his "heroes".

"If someone tackled you, Batts was always there to stand up for you," he said. "You don't find those types of players a lot. You could always rely on him."

Batty was more than a mere enforcer, however.

As well as standing his ground, and aggressively winning the ball back, the England international rarely gave away possession.

Those qualities quickly struck ex-Leeds midfielder John Sheridan, who was Batty's "mentor" in his early days at the club.

"You would think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth when you looked at him then," he said.

"But he was tough as nails. He made the game look very simple by doing the simple things easily."

Batty also became a valued member of the various dressing rooms he inhabited.

Those who worked with him recall his dry sense of humour and practical jokes, the comparatively modest car he drove and how he did not get dragged down by the inevitable setbacks of the game, even when he missed a penalty for England at the 1998 World Cup.

Dave Hancock got to know Batty a little better than most as Leeds' head physiotherapist during the midfielder's gruelling rehabilitation from a career-threatening achilles injury in his second spell at Elland Road.

It was quickly apparent that he was not your typical Premier League footballer.

"In all my years in football, I don't think I've met a character like Batts," said Hancock, who also had spells with England and Chelsea.

"He was a talisman, for sure. A true, gritty Yorkshireman, who was very simple in his life with very simple pleasures. I don't think he ever went abroad [on holiday].

"He was not what you would expect from a multimillionaire footballer."

Those who encountered Batty at Blackburn and Newcastle felt similarly.

When Blackburn won the title, in 1995, for instance, Batty could not bring himself to pick up a medal after missing the majority of the season with a broken foot.

Batty instead felt for Atkins, who had filled in superbly during his absence, after his fellow midfielder was left out of the squad for the final fixture of the campaign against Liverpool.

"He was so supportive and felt sorry that he played the last couple of games instead of me," Atkins said.

"There was nothing against him when I got left out. It wasn't his fault. It was just the manager's decision, but there was a rumour going around that he didn't pick his medal up or left it somewhere.

"He shouldn't have because, whether he was injured or not, he was still a big part of the team."

Yet there is a reason you won't see Batty at the anniversary dinners to mark that title win.

Batty did not uproot during his time at Blackburn, or even when he made the switch to Newcastle in 1996.

He instead continued to commute from the family home in Yorkshire.

By the time his Newcastle team-mates were doing extras on the training field, Batty was often on his way out of the car park.

That image stuck with former Newcastle defender Warren Barton.

"He would already be in his car with his hand out the window, making a gesture to us," he said.

"When Saturday came, he was ready to go, but he loved being back home.

"He just wanted to come in, do his training and get back to his kids. We respected him for that."

It is why Barton always expected Batty to "sail into the sunset" in retirement.

So it proved after Batty chose to maintain a quiet family life after retiring.

This is a figure who is "peaceful in his own skin" in the words of Evans.

"He was then and is now a dedicated family man," he added. "He's very happy in his life as he sits right now.

"He's doing all the things he wants to do and none of the things he doesn't want to do.

"It suits him down to the ground."