Bob Nystrom’s phone inbox was full Saturday afternoon with well wishes, condolences and happy memories. He could barely keep up with all the calls. That’s the kind of effect Clark Gillies had on people.

“This guy wasn’t liked, he was loved,” Nystrom told The Post of Gillies, his Islanders roommate for eight years and teammate for four Stanley Cup runs in the early 1980s, who died Friday at age 67. “I’m telling you, this guy was so adored by all the other players because he had such a personality about him. And so they’re on the phone calling everybody.”

The shock and emotion was still reverberating for the Islanders on Saturday afternoon following the news of Gillies’ death. Gillies, whose No. 9 sits in the UBS Arena rafters, had done so much for the team, and for the community in which it resides.

“Everybody’s got some irritating things about them. And that’s fine. I know I do,” Chico Resch, the goaltender on the Islanders’ four Cup champs, told The Post. “And with Clarkie, it was hard to find anything. He was just this polished guy who knew — when you say somebody gets it, Clarkie got it.”

Nystrom remembered, during the 1980 playoff run, seeing a TV broadcaster say the Islanders would get run out of the Boston Garden.

“Needless to say, both of us almost took the TV and threw it down on the bar,” he said, “but we decided that we had to be a big part of standing up and fighting.”

Gillies’ subsequent bout with Boston’s Terry O’Reilly, in which he bested the Bruins’ enforcer, is now part of Islanders lore. Nystrom, too, dropped gloves with John Wensick, and the benches at one point cleared. Those Islanders were tough enough to hang. They beat the Bruins in five and were well on their way to the first of four Cup titles.

Resch recalled standing outside the locker room after Game 3 of that series and watching people gasp as O’Reilly walked into the hallway.

“His face is honestly, you hear this term about like a hamburger, it was red and torn just from running over that ice,” Resch said.

During their scrap, Gillies had dragged O’Reilly’s face across the ice. That was the third — and last — time O’Reilly tried to fight Gillies during the series.

“I think that was the one thing that really put us over the top, because we knew that we can play any type of game,” Nystrom said. “But we’d never really asserted that.”

Gillies’ personality off the ice stood in contrast to the tough personas that helped protect Bryan Trottier and Mike Bossy on the Trio Grande line. He was the team jokester, cutting off ties and spraying shaving cream on the heads of unsuspecting teammates while they slept on the plane.

“Clarkie was no dummy,” Resch said. “He’d wink and say, ‘Hey, we’re in a pretty good line.’ Oh yeah, he understood.”

He didn’t end up being suited to the role of captain, giving up the ‘C’ to Denis Potvin before the 1979-80 season, but keeping everyone loose was a necessary role in the midst of tense playoff runs. He filled that role perfectly.

His personality also made him well-suited for the charity work that he continued up until his death. Gillies, who had made a permanent home on Long Island, raised millions for children in need and for Huntington Hospital.

“He gets up there and he’s an entertainer,” Nystrom said. “I envied him because he was so good at speaking to people and telling jokes and interacting. He was just absolutely amazing in that respect.”

That charisma. That character. That’s Clark Gillies.

“I always put it this way,” Resch said. “He was lovable. And he was loving.”