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Oregon coach Mark Helfrich said he will take a moment before Saturday's game to remember his father, Mike, who passed away in a hotel room before the Ducks' last game in Tucson, Ariz. in 2011.

(Bruce Ely/The Oregonian)

EUGENE -- It’s where he went that awful night two years ago, because it was a place where he could feel alone, a place where he could cry. So when Mark Helfrich returns to Arizona Stadium on Saturday, he says he will find that spot in the tunnel between the football field and the Oregon locker room, and remember.

Remember the policemen outside the Ducks locker room. The faces, solemn and serious. And mostly, the words: His father ... hotel room ... found dead.

He doesn’t know why he is drawn to that tunnel this weekend, because really, he has never stopped thinking of his father, Mike.

He says he thinks about him every day, especially when he passes the spot where he last saw him alive -- in the back lobby of the Casanova Center, near where the Ducks run into Autzen Stadium. It was the Saturday before he died, in the postgame celebration after the Ducks had beaten Missouri State 56-7. The two hugged, and said see you next week.

And he thinks of him during every game. After his death, Helfrich had a photo laminated that he kept next to him in the press box when he was offensive coordinator. His father is walking away from the camera, hand-in-hand with little Joe, Mark’s nephew, leading him onto the field of Pete Susick Stadium in their hometown of Coos Bay. After becoming head coach this season, Helfrich had the photo reduced and laminated on the back of a wallet-size chart that he keeps in his back pocket that tells him whether he should go for two or kick an extra point.

“That right there shows it all,’’ he says, his mind lost in the photo. “Leading the little dude onto the field ...’’

His father never told him he loved him, but he chuckles about that, because everything his father did in his life showed how much he loved him, his older brother, John, and their mother, Linda. They went hunting and fishing, played golf, and he went to all of their athletic events. Mark never heard it, but he certainly felt it.

“He was a man of action much more than words,’’ Helfrich says.

When it comes to his emotions, the same could be said of Helfrich, although he says it is much easier for him to say “I love you” and show affection than it was for his father. Yet, he has kept his emotions bottled up leading up to Saturday’s game, which the Ducks (9-1) must win to stay on track for a spot in the Pac-12 championship.

Bottled up, even as he knows what is approaching, because it caught his eye this summer when he looked at the schedule.

Arizona… Tucson… The tunnel.

“I don’t know why, but I want to ... I want to go to the tunnel,’’ Helfrich says. “I’m sure it will be odd. And I’m sure I will have a wave of something.’’

Bill Lilley, his father’s best friend who has known Helfrich for 34 of his 40 years, says he knows why Helfrich is going to the tunnel. And he knows what will happen.

“He’s going to go there to cry, and tell him how much he loved

him,’’ Lilley says. “That’s exactly what is going to happen.’’

Zero regrets

They played Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” at the funeral, and Mark Helfrich thought that was fitting, for his dad could be stubborn and set in his ways, but more than anything he liked it because it symbolized a life lived with no regrets.

He retired early as an executive with U.S. Bank, and throughout his career he turned down offers to work in bigger cities, saying he liked the outdoors, liked spending time with his family.

“He’d have bib overalls and a hickory shirt, and be (intellectually) eight miles ahead of you,’’ Lilley says.

He was frugal even though he didn’t have to be, insisting on staying at budget hotels and buying cheap fishing equipment, and his 21-foot Alumaweld boat, the Molly Joe, was a sty. And Helfrich chortles that his dad would find his new office at Oregon embarrassing.

He was a large man, 6-foot-3 and “300 and some change” Helfrich says, and his wit was sharp. The biggest similarities between the two, people say, is their quick sense of humor. He was a fixture in Coos Bay, the president of the Kiwanis Club, president of the Marshfield High booster club, president of the Jaycees, and spent 15 years as a volunteer football coach for the Pirates. And in the summer, he would drop by Mingus Park to watch slowpitch softball games, cooler in tow, to hand out fish he had caught that day.

More than anything, Helfrich talks about the way his dad lived his life. Not a lot of words. Not a lot of frills. But a lot of heart and compassion.

“He was a great dad. Didn’t talk very much, but just did a lot of good things,’’ Helfrich says.

It’s how he finds comfort these days, telling himself his dad lived it his way, and he often goes back to that when he finds himself grieving even two years later.

“I think the biggest part of all of this is he had zero regrets in his life,’’ Helfrich says. “Would he have liked to be at the game now? Yeah. But at the same time, he wouldn’t have sacrificed anything else he did. That, to me, is very comforting.’’

They say he died peacefully, of natural causes, in his hotel room.

He had not unpacked, and appeared to have laid down, only to never wake up. He was 68.

He had fished Friday morning with Lilley, then flew to Phoenix and drove to Tucson. Helfrich remembers calling him Friday night and leaving a message on his cell phone. When he didn’t hear from him, he called the next morning. His dad traveled to almost every game, and it was rare, but not odd, for them to not communicate before kickoff.

After the Ducks beat Arizona 56-31, with LaMichael James rushing for a school-record 287 yards, it was a celebratory scene in the locker room. But when Helfrich exited, he saw the policemen.

“As soon as I turned the corner, I knew something bad had happened,’’ Helfrich says.

Steve Greatwood, the Ducks’ longtime offensive line coach, stayed behind in Tucson with Helfrich that night. Greatwood had known Mike for decades, longer than he had known Mark, and had spent countless fishing expeditions on the Molly Joe. The best he could do, Greatwood says, was put an arm around Helfrich.

“It was a long night, and a long morning, with not a lot to say,’’ Greatwood says. “Just a lot of tears and a million questions.’’

A proud father

When he was promoted to head coach in January, Helfrich stood in front of a press conference and said his father was at the forefront of his mind. He vowed that part of his father would be reflected in everything the Ducks do.

It’s why the way his father lived his life -- no regrets, actions speaking louder than words -- resonates so deeply with Helfrich. They are themes he preaches to his team.

“He was a huge influence on my life, and invariably that will seep through to our players,’’ Helfrich says. “So yeah, no regrets. Give your best effort. If you want something fixed, fix it. If you are going to do it, do it right and do it well. All those things.’’

Greatwood can sit and tell stories about Helfrich’s dad for days, and he says he can see the influence, see the traits of Big Mike, as he was called, in the young Oregon coach.

“Every day I see it. The way Mark handles his business, and the way he treats the people who work with him and the kids who play for him, there is a caring about it, a genuineness about it,’’ Greatwood says. “And that’s the biggest testament to his father.’’

He says the father would be proud of the son, and if he could, Greatwood is sure Big Mike would answer Helfrich in that tunnel on Saturday.

“I know he is looking down right now, that big ol’ chest bowed up with pride at what Mark is doing right now,’’ Greatwood says. “It would have been unbelievable for him to see Mark as the head coach, for him to experience that. But you know, he is. I know he is looking down and he sees it. I know he is.’’