STANFORD — The preseason reviews of quarterback Kevin Hogan are in from all corners of the Stanford program, and they don’t include terms like efficient, accurate or productive. The descriptions are broader: He’s at peace; he has a sense of calm; he’s in command of his surroundings.

Center Graham Shuler said Hogan “has a light in his eyes.”

Shuler paused.

“It’s like his dad is with him.”

While Stanford lurched through most of the 2014 season, its starting quarterback silently endured personal anguish: the illness, and death, of his father, Jerry.

During a rare interview about his father, Hogan downplayed the impact Jerry’s fight with cancer had on his performance. The tone of his voice, and the look in his eyes, said otherwise.

“I wasn’t the one suffering,” he said quietly. “I tried to be strong for him. He wanted to keep everything normal.”

So insistent was Jerry on normalcy and privacy that Hogan kept the illness from his teammates until close to the end.

“He’s my best friend on the team, and I didn’t know,” Shuler said. “I found out from a third party. He showed up ready to work every day, but I can’t imagine the pressure it put on him.”

Hogan, the youngest of three children, was a senior in high school when Jerry was first diagnosed. He had already committed to Stanford but considered switching to a university closer to the family’s home in McLean, Virginia, in the Washington suburbs.

Jerry would have none of it.

“It would make me so happy if you could follow your dream,” he said. “And we’ll come out to games.”

An AT&T vice president known for his good nature and intense devotion to his family, Jerry and his wife, Donna, attended numerous Stanford games over the years. Hogan emerged as the starter late in his redshirt freshman season and led the Cardinal to back-to-back Pac-12 titles.

For three years, through all the emotional trauma of Jerry’s illness and treatments, Hogan did not utter a peep to teammates, fraternity brothers and friends on campus. Key members of the football staff were aware of the situation through direct contact with Jerry and Donna, but they never broached the subject with Hogan and, as the family wished, kept it hidden from the team.

“He’s very private; he hid what he was thinking,” offensive coordinator Mike Bloomgren said. “But his demeanor was such that you knew everything (relating to football) was being addressed.”

Hogan, who has extended family in Woodside, found escape in football — what he called “getting out here with the boys.” He read extensively and took walks around campus, exploring as many nooks of university life as he could.

His reason for silence when it came to his father’s illness: “I didn’t want to put my own stuff ahead of the team.”

Jerry attended the USC game in early September but didn’t make it to Notre Dame — his alma mater — a few weeks later. Hogan figured a round of treatments had made the trip too difficult. But soon after, with Stanford’s bye week approaching, Donna called.

“I think you should come home,” she said.

The urgency in her voice was unmistakable, so Hogan made plans. He also told one friend, his roommate, who wasn’t a football player.

Then, with Stanford idle on Nov. 8, Hogan flew home for an emotional weekend with his father.

“We watched football and golf, just kicked back,” he said. “He explained that it was getting tough. He said it was good we got to spend the time together.”

Hogan returned to campus and attempted to focus on football. He struggled in a loss to Utah but shredded Cal a week later. In the regular-season finale at ninth-ranked UCLA, Hogan delivered what was arguably the finest performance of his career: 16 of 19 for 234 yards and two touchdowns.

A continent away, Jerry, 64, watched every play.

“He was beaming,” Hogan said. “He even had one of his favorite beers.”

That would be Smithwick’s Irish Ale.

A week later, on Dec. 7, Stanford held its postseason banquet.

Hogan was there for 20 minutes, then left abruptly to catch a flight home.

“I got there just in time,” he said quietly. “He died that night.”

After 10 days with his family, Hogan returned to campus. There were exams to take — he majors in science, technology and society — and a game to play. He carved up Maryland as Stanford handily won the Foster Farms Bowl.

“That was wild,” Shuler said. “I’ll never forget when we were in the hotel (two days) before the game, and his mother and sister walked in, and he just got this big smile.

“He’s had a clarity of purpose since then. It’s like he’s driven by this thing inside him. I’m excited for the world to see it. He’s going to have a special year.”

Hogan considered a jump into the NFL and waited until the deadline before announcing he would return. (Contrary to reports at the time, he never considered transferring.) He attacked the Cardinal’s offseason training program like never before. It was his way of fending off the sadness.

“I looked forward to the workouts,” he said. “I made sure to spend an extra 30 minutes on something because I knew it would help me get to sleep.”

Then came spring practice, summer workouts and training camp. Hogan’s command of the offense, leadership and poise were, by all accounts, at a higher level.

“I don’t feel the pressure of over-thinking,” he said. “I’ve got a better grip on my emotions. I can calm myself down. I don’t know: It could be my dad looking over me.

“I feel like I’ve grown up lot in the last year, like I can help other guys on the team and lead us in the right direction.”

For more on college sports, see Jon Wilner’s College Hotline at blogs.mercurynews.com/collegesports. Contact him at jwilner@mercurynews.com or 408-920-5716.