EUGENE -- Sometimes it’s at 2 a.m., and other times it is in the middle of a game, but they turn to him, the Oregon football players say, for help. For advice. For leadership.

And Hroniss Grasu welcomes them, no questions asked, no judgment passed.

He shrugs, and says it’s nothing, for it is what he was taught, how he was raised.

He is the baby of a large Romanian family -- so many of them they could be a village, an aunt jokes -- and his cousins would line up and kiss him, hug him and surrounded him with love. Even today, as the hulking center for the Ducks, Grasu says his cousins kiss him on the forehead when they meet.

Sometimes, his mom says, he would complain that he was the baby, because it meant he had no one to look after, no one to mentor.

But here he is today, one of the unquestioned leaders of the Oregon football team, the glue that bonds an already tight team, and he struggles to explain why.

But his family knows. They have seen it since he was a child. The answer is engraved on the inside of Grasu’s Fiesta Bowl ring.

It reads Papu.

***

In his family, voices crack and tears approach when Papu is mentioned, for that is what love and longing does, even after eight years. He was the father of Hroniss’ father, Papu being the affectionate Romanian term used for grandfather. Their words, choked and efforted, don’t begin to explain how much they miss him.

But then, they think of Hroniss, and it’s like Papu is here again, warming with his smile, charming with his wit, welcoming with his heart.

“Of all the grandchildren, Hroniss has the highest percentage of

similarities

to him, and that’s a big attribute, a big compliment," says Rodica Grasu, one of his aunts.

He was a fighter, Hroniss remembers proudly, and his chest swells when he says that, making his 300 pounds look like 500. After a life spent struggling through three heart surgeries and diabetes, doctors gave Papu a couple of weeks to live. He lasted six months before dying at 75. The nurses took to calling him Superman, and Hroniss liked that, so much so that he has a Superman T-shirt at home, in the Ducks’ colors, with the word “Invincible” written on the back.

He remembers Papu’s smile there in the hospital bed. It is the same smile Hroniss’ father, Steve, says Hroniss wears. It left a lasting impression on 14-year-old Hroniss, one that would help shape his life.

“He had that smile on, and I knew inside he was hurting,’’ Hroniss says.

“But he would be making fun of the hospital food, having fun with the nurses, and that’s just how he was. That’s why I am always happy, worry free. I’m not going to be that guy who is going to be upset or down about something. I’m going to think about the positive. ’’

He has Papu’s blood, but he also has his spirit. He soaked it in during his childhood, when Papu lived with the family in Los Angeles and looked after the seven grandkids while the parents ran their pizza restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard. Hroniss was his tag along. To the 99 cent store. To pick up his cousins from school. And later in life, he would take him to soccer and basketball practices. He remembers a calm, caring, and warm man, filled with love.

“They say I am a mirror-image of him, the way he cared about people and the way he put people in front of himself,’’ Hroniss says.

“It’s what he and my dad taught me - to treat people the way you want to be treated, no matter who the person is. Treat them with respect. Don’t put people down. Always think about what you are doing, because God is looking down on you.’’

He exudes that spirit around the football team, and the players have noticed. Teammates Jake Fisher, Blake Stanton and Jamal Prater live in the same house with Hroniss, but in essence Hroniss lives with the entire roster.

“That guy means a lot to this team, and a lot to me,’’ quarterback Marcus Mariota says . “He looks out for the best for all of us, no matter what. Doesn’t matter what it is, or who you are, he cares about all of us. And that’s special.’’

***

With the spirit of Papu inside of him, perhaps it was only natural that Grasu became an offensive lineman. It is a position of utter selflessness, a position all about helping others, often without recognition.

He gets excited to see De’Anthony Thomas on SportsCenter, tickled that Mariota is in the Heisman conversation, and he will be one of the first to hug Josh Huff when he catches a touchdown. There is seldom, if ever, mention of Grasu and the linemen making it all happen, and that

anonymity

fits him.

“That’s the way I am off the field, really. I’d rather put other people before me, try to help someone else succeed,’’ Grasu says. “So yeah, we are the guys who won’t get our names in the paper, won’t get our pictures taken, but I’m a behind-the-scenes guy anyway.’’

Grasu last season as a sophomore was chosen as the best center in the Pac-12 Conference, and this year he is a candidate for the Outland Trophy as the nation’s top interior lineman, the Rimington Trophy as the nation’s top center and the Lombardi Award as the nation’s best lineman/linebacker.

More revealing, though is a team honor he won last season, the Todd Doxey Award,

given to the UO player who best exemplifies the traits of spirituality, dedication and brotherhood.

“When you say Hroniss, the first thing I think is anchor of the team,’’ receiver Keanon Lowe says. “He is the guy who holds this thing together. Everyone loves him. He’s down to earth, and one of the most humble guys you will ever know. You would never know he is one of the best centers in the Pac-12, let alone the country. But he is, because he is one of the hardest workers I know.’’

When the players feel they are in trouble late at night, or if they are in a jam and need help, Grasu is often the first person many of them call. At least three players gave first-hand accounts of Grasu going out of his way to help.

“Hroniss is probably our most dependable person off the field,’’ starting left tackle Tyler Johnstone says. “He will always be there for everybody, no matter what. I mean, one time I came into the Eugene airport and my ride wasn’t able to make it. It was 11 p.m. on a Sunday night. We had practice the next morning. I was stuck. The first person I called was Hroniss. He was already in bed, but he got up and was there. No questions asked.’’

Offensive lineman Everett Benyard recounted a similar story of a teammate who found himself in a sticky situation late one night in the offseason.

“He was in trouble, and he needed help,’’ Benyard recalls. “And he called Hroniss, because he remembered hearing how good of a teammate he was. He asked him to get him out of the situation, and Hroniss did. No questions or anything. He went there, got him out of there, and got him home.’’

Grasu nods his head when the story is retold, and said he didn’t give a second of thought before he was in his car and on the way.

“It was a situation where something good wasn’t going to happen, so I went there, picked him up and took him home,’’ Grasu says. “It’s a team thing. Sometimes you have to sacrifice your time.

,

And I have always offered, and tell guys to call me. I will always be there.’’

That extends to the football field, where last summer, lineman Matt Pierson was struggling to pick up the line’s concepts. It was between the two-a-day workouts of fall camp, a time sacred to the players because it is when they eat and nap, so he cautiously approached the star center for advice.

“He is one of the best leaders I have ever seen, and not just on the football field, but on a personal level too,’’ Pierson says. “He will help you out any chance he gets. His door is always open. I went to him that day during our off-time, which is pretty precious time for the guys, and he went over the plays with me. Explained everything and helped me grasp it.’’

Grasu would get his rest later.

Today, Pierson is the team’s second-string left tackle.

“That’s the way Hroniss is,’’ starting left guard Mana Greig says. “It’s not about Hroniss at all. It’s everyone before Hroniss, he puts himself in the back and puts everyone in front of him.’’

Fisher, the starting right tackle and Grasu’s roommate, says there are multiple stories around the team of Grasu driving 20 minutes to rescue guys whose car batteries died, or who need a ride in a pinch.

“I think the number one quality people look at is Hroniss is always trying to help,’’ Fisher says. “He always serves everybody else. So if somebody needs anything, whether it’s 10 o’clock at night, or something happens and you ask who do I need to call ... it’s Hroniss. And he will never ask for anything in return.’’

Naturally, he is particularly close to his offensive linemen, and he has taken over the tradition of group texting from Kyle Long and Ryan Clanton, mixing a blend of business and jokes in the group messages.

“I think a big thing about Hroniss is he brings us all together,’’ Benyard says. “He makes us all feel like we are family.’’

***

It is by design that Grasu is so intent to bring the Ducks closer and make them like family. It is what he has always been taught, how he has always lived.

“Family is everything,’’ his mother, Mariana says. “If you don’t have family, you don’t have roots.’’

Grasu says he has an even greater appreciation for family knowing the hardships and sacrifice his parents and their siblings went through to escape communist Romania and establish a better life in America.

His mother was a star athlete -- a goalie for the Romanian national handball team -- and his father was stunt man, usually riding horses. But it was a repressive time in Romania in the 1970s under the rule of Nicolae Ceausescu. Grasu’s father says the power was sometimes shut off at 6 p.m. And in order to pay off the country’s debt, much of the food produced was exported, causing hunger among its own people.

“It was very bad, very hard,’’ Mariana says. “We looked at America and saw opportunity. If you worked hard, you could be whoever you wanted to be,’’

But it was dangerous to leave. A cousin of Mariana was shot and killed in a

cemetery

trying to cross the border. The patrols were rigid.

Hronciu, the oldest brother of his father, was the first to escape in 1971. He walked 50 miles in two days, most often at night, and managed to cross the border into Yugoslavia, where he was granted political asylum. Then George, the middle of the three brothers, escaped in 1981, when he hid on a train that a friend worked on. The friend stashed George in a linen closet, and when the train arrived in Vienna, he was free after claiming political asylum.

Steve made it over in 1983. He waited three years for his passport and visa, and when he was granted permission went to Los Angeles. Three years later, he returned to marry Mariana and bring her to America. Five years later, Nico was born, and three years after that Hroniss.

“I think of what they must have gone through, and it makes me appreciate them even more,’’ Hroniss says. “Everything I do is to put a smile on their face and to show how much I appreciate them.’’

The families struggled at first as they started Greco’s New York Pizza. The three families were often under one roof -- 15 of them -- and that’s where lasting lessons were engrained. Lessons like “be the first one to serve and the last one to be served.” And “man makes money, but money does not make a man.” And “don’t be afraid to work; someday it will get you something.’’

All the while, there was unbridled love. Grasu can still picture his godmother, Elena, calling him with her index finger, telling him she would give him a dollar if she could kiss him. And he

remembers

uncle George and aunt Rodica always stressing “school first.”

And there was Papu, so quiet, so thoughtful, so loving. All things his family see in Hroniss today. When he bought a black dress shirt recently, he also bought a white one for his brother Nico. “A small thing,’’ Nico says, “but so touching.’’

And when Rodica joins his parents in attending a Ducks game -- the parents attend every game, home and away -- she always receives a phone call from Hroniss, thanking her for showing up.

“He tells us he couldn’t have done it without us,’’ Rodica says.

***

Each time he returns home to Los Angeles, there is one place he makes sure to visit: the cemetery where Papu rests.

It’s where he goes to think. Where he goes to remember. It’s where he goes to talk to Papu.

“I think about him every single day, and I truly miss him, so I go there by myself and talk to him in my head,’’ Grasu, 22, says. “If I have something going on, I try to think about what he would do, or I think about what he would tell me. It feels good.’’

He wishes Papu could see him now, with the Oregon football team, as one big family, with Hroniss in the middle of it all. In January 2012, when the Ducks made it to the Rose Bowl, the Grasu family hosted the offensive line at Greco’s New York Pizza.

The players gawked at the 28-inch pizzas, and the dough being hand-tossed into the air. Benyard says he still dreams about the lamb gyros, and Karrington Armstrong remembers eating the pizzas like tacos. The players listened to the family tell stories of Hroniss’ youth, and they all exchanged jokes, laughed and ate some more.

And Hroniss smiled. He was with family. Both of them.

-- Jason Quick