CINCINNATI, OH (January 23, 2026) — The heart of the Queen City is heavy today. In a devastating blow to the Cincinnati Bengals organization and the entire region, Dave Lapham—the legendary broadcaster, former player, and beloved ambassador of Bengals football—has passed away. He was 74 years old.

According to preliminary reports confirmed by the team and local authorities, Lapham died following a tragic automobile accident late Thursday night. He was reportedly returning home from a community charity event, a final act of service that perfectly encapsulated a life dedicated to the people of Cincinnati.

For over five decades, Lapham was more than just a part of the Bengals organization; he was its connective tissue. From the trenches of the offensive line in the 1970s to the broadcast booth where he reigned for nearly 40 years, Lapham was the constant in an ever-changing league. Today, the microphone is silent, and a city is left to mourn a man who didn’t just call the games—he lived them.

The Man Who Was “Felt,” Not Just Heard

To describe Dave Lapham as merely a “color analyst” would be a disservice to his legacy. As news of his passing spread on Friday morning, the overwhelming sentiment from fans was not just one of losing a commentator, but of losing a family member.

“For decades, Lapham wasn’t just heard by Bengals fans—he was felt,” said a statement released by the Bengals ownership group. “His voice carried belief through losing seasons, pride through rebuilds, and unbridled joy through long-awaited triumphs. He was the soundtrack of our Sundays and the heartbeat of our franchise.”

Lapham’s broadcasting style was unique, defined not by polished neutrality but by a visceral, infectious passion. He was known for his guttural cheers when a play broke open, his breathless anticipation on third downs, and his protective defense of players. He didn’t simply observe from the press box; he stood with the team, riding every emotional wave alongside the fans listening on radios in garages, living rooms, and cars across the Tri-State area.

A Life in Stripes

Dave Lapham’s journey with the Bengals began in 1974 when he was drafted out of Syracuse University. He played 10 seasons as a versatile offensive lineman, a position that requires grit, intelligence, and selflessness—traits that would come to define his broadcasting career. He was a key member of the team’s first Super Bowl run in 1981, battling in the freezing cold of the “Freezer Bowl.”

However, it was his second act as a broadcaster that cemented him as a Cincinnati icon. For generations of fans, Lapham was the bridge between the eras of Ken Anderson, Boomer Esiason, Carson Palmer, and Joe Burrow. He had the unique ability to break down complex blocking schemes for the casual viewer while simultaneously screaming “BAM!” into the microphone after a big hit.

Tragedy Strikes on the Road Home

The circumstances of his death have added a layer of profound sadness to the loss. Sources indicate that Lapham had spent Thursday evening at a fundraiser for local high school athletics—one of countless appearances he made annually without fanfare.

“He never said no to Cincinnati,” said a close friend and colleague. “If there was a chance to shake a fan’s hand, help a charity, or talk football, Dave was there. It is heartbreaking, but also fitting, that his final hours were spent giving back to the community he loved so much.”

Tributes Pour In

As the shock subsided, tributes began to flood social media, trending globally under hashtags like #RipLap and #WhoDeyDave.

Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow posted a somber message: “Dave was the first person to interview me when I got drafted and the first person to hug me after we won the AFC. He loved this team more than anyone I’ve ever met. We lost our biggest fan and our greatest friend.”

Former teammates and broadcast partners shared stories of Lapham’s kindness, noting that despite his legendary status, he remained humble and approachable. He was known for arriving at the stadium hours before anyone else to study film, treating every preseason game with the same preparation as a Super Bowl.

The Silence in the Booth

The upcoming AFC Championship game will now take on a somber tone. The broadcast booth, usually a place of high energy, will have an empty chair that no one can truly fill. The team has announced plans to honor Lapham with a “Lap” patch on their jerseys for the remainder of the playoffs, and a moment of silence is scheduled prior to kickoff—though many fans have suggested a “moment of noise” would be more fitting for a man who lived his life at full volume.

A Legacy Stitched into the City

Dave Lapham’s legacy is not written in statistics or awards, but in the memories of the people he touched. He stitched together generations of fans. Grandfathers who watched him block for Ken Anderson listened to him call games with their grandsons who watch Ja’Marr Chase. He was the common thread in the fabric of Bengals Nation.

In a sport often defined by transients—players who come and go, coaches who are hired and fired—Dave Lapham was the rock. He chose Cincinnati, he stayed in Cincinnati, and he stood for Cincinnati until the very end.

The broadcast may have ended, but the echo of his voice—passionate, knowledgeable, and fiercely loyal—will resonate in the Jungle forever. Rest in peace, Dave. You were the real MVP.