In the end zone.

The view wasn’t great from that part of old Foxboro Stadium, but it was where Mosi’s Mooses sat, and it was the place to be that afternoon.

“Mosi Tatupu,’’ Kraft said yesterday, “one of my favorite players.’’

Tatupu died at 54 Tuesday at Sturdy Memorial Hospital in Attleboro, after the Plainville Fire Department responded to a call from his home and took him to the hospital.

The fan favorite that Kraft described is the player that those who follow the Patriots will remember.

Tatupu, a jack-of-all-trades at fullback, rushed for 2,415 yards in 13 seasons as a Patriot (he finished up playing one season with the Rams), and scored 18 touchdowns. He played on all of New England’s special teams, and made the Pro Bowl in that capacity in 1986.

He was a football player’s football player: tough, hard-nosed, and team-oriented.

But to people around him, the softer side was most remarkable.

“He was laid-back, always happy, positive, and when things were getting tough, or weren’t going the way you wanted them to, he was the guy who’d have a smile on his face,’’ said former Patriot teammate Steve Nelson. “He was ready to take on that challenge. He had an idea of how to make teams work. He just had this good, good karma about him.

“Things wouldn’t bother him.’’

Nelson has his on-field memories of Tatupu, of course, from a decade of playing with him.

He remembers the 100 yards Tatupu ran for in the Snow Plow Game against Miami in 1982. He recalls Tatupu’s play in the 1985 playoffs - leading to the franchise’s first Super Bowl appearance - when he forced a fumble on a kickoff against the Raiders that Jim Bowman scooped up for a touchdown, and how he caused another one on a kickoff against the Dolphins the next week in the AFC title game.

As Nelson put it, “You always knew in the biggest, most important games, he’d be ready to play. You always knew he was going to play well.’’

But more than that, Nelson remembers the man Tatupu was, the one who went into coaching after his playing days.

Tatupu started at King Philip, where his son Lofa - now the Seattle Seahawks’ starting middle linebacker and defensive captain - was playing. And while Tatupu’s impact on Lofa was immense, it shouldn’t diminish what he meant to the other kids.

“My dad coached me, and I know it’s different, because it’s your blood, but he coached him like he coached everyone else,’’ Nelson said. “You tend not to treat your son like a player, but you try to treat all the other players like they’re your sons. That was Mosi; his son wasn’t just a player, but all his players were his sons.’’

Lofa wound up becoming all-state at King Philip, but he wasn’t the first player from the school to earn the honor. That distinction belongs to Troy Howard, who graduated two years ahead of Mosi’s son, and whose development was one example of so many that showed the impact Tatupu had.

“You would like him for a father, that’s how good of a guy Mosi is,’’ said Troy Howard’s father Tom, who ran into Tatupu at the Plainville Cumberland Farms Monday morning. “You sit there and listen to him, and you’re almost mesmerized by him. He had a magical way that only certain teachers you and I had have. I never heard a bad word about him.’’

That’s a big reason - as much as his football expertise - that Nelson wanted Tatupu on his staff at Curry College in 2002.

Nelson wasn’t disappointed. His new running backs coach was the same guy he remembered playing the position for the Patriots.

As Nelson tried to cope with the news of Tatupu’s death, the calls from his ex-players at Curry and their parents started pouring in, a tribute to the difference he made.

“He really had an effect on the players in such a positive way,’’ Nelson said. “He changed lives. He was such a terrific person, and a great football player.

“He impacted a lot of people. He had this sweet spirit about him. I’ve gotten calls all day from parents talking about how much Mosi changed their kid’s lives.’’

One example stuck out.

Nelson got a call yesterday morning, and returned it shortly thereafter. And he struggled with the voice on the other end.

“He said he doesn’t know what to do, he can’t understand why this would happen,’’ Nelson said. “He wants to do something for Mosi, he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to give back for the stuff Mosi gave him - the attention and the discipline and the love, and all these things this boy didn’t have a lot of.

“He changed the kid’s life. No one knows about it, except the young man and his guardian and myself, and a couple other people, but he really made a difference in this boy’s life.’’

Tatupu and Nelson would play golf in the summer, and Tatupu would often remark how proud he was that Lofa was no longer known most famously as Mosi’s son, and how now Mosi was known as Lofa’s dad.

And while he’ll be remembered for his playing days, that is where his impact was greatest. Not in how many games he changed as a Patriot, but how many lives he changed in the game of life.

Albert R. Breer can be reached at abreer@globe.com. Follow him on Twitter @albertbreer.