Larry Price and the morning commute that won’t sound the same

At 8: 00 a. m. ET, the kind of hour when commuters settle into routine and voices become landmarks, the absence of larry price lands quietly. For decades in Hawaii, his presence was familiar—on the sideline, in a classroom, and most enduringly through the radio, where listeners began their mornings with a man many knew simply as “Coach. ”

What happened: the death of larry price

Dr. Larry D. Price of Honolulu, Hawai‘i, died on March 27, 2026. A statement announcing his passing said he “passed peacefully” and added that the family requests privacy.

He was described as an athlete, professor, news columnist for Mid-Week, sportscaster for OC16, and a beloved radio personality as part of the Perry & Price morning show on KSSK-FM. Across those roles, he became a rare kind of public figure: someone whose authority came not from a single job title, but from a lifetime of showing up—on the field and on the air—until people felt they knew him.

Who was Larry Price: coach, captain, and a “homegrown talent”

Born and raised in Kaaawa, Price made a long daily commute to Roosevelt High School, where he fell in love with football. He played on both the offensive and defensive lines, described as a 6-foot, 260-pound force.

At the University of Hawaii, he played defensive tackle from 1961 to 1964 and served as a three-time team captain. His path stretched beyond football as well: he held a black belt in judo from the Kodokan Judo Institute, studied jiu-jitsu and karate, and boxed his way to become a heavyweight champion while serving in the U. S. Army.

After a brief stint with the Los Angeles Rams, Price returned to the University of Hawaii. He served as head volleyball coach from 1969 to 1972, and in 1973 he was named to the 11-member all-time UH football team.

His most visible institutional role came next. As head football coach from 1974 to 1976, he helped usher the university into NCAA Division I Football, and he was the division’s first head coach born and raised in Hawaii. During that era, the team competed under the moniker the Rainbows—an identity that, in Price’s telling, was connected to place as much as sport.

“It’s always been known as the valley of the seven rainbows, kind of a spiritual thing, ” Price said at the time. “We didn’t make a big deal, because we’ve always been the rainbows because of where the school sits. ”

How his influence lived on: a mayor’s memory and a broadcaster’s humility

Honolulu Mayor Rick Blangiardi, a former walk-on player who later joined Price’s staff as associate head coach and defensive coordinator, recalled a first meeting shaped by standards and expectation.

“From the hour I met him, I was there to try to prove something about myself to him knowing full well he held the bar really high, ” Blangiardi said. “I think he was born to be the head coach at UH. He had a passion for it. He was so skilled. ”

Blangiardi described coaching alongside Price as a “great North Star” in his life. “That decision changed my destiny, ” he said. “I wouldn’t be in Hawaii today if it wasn’t for him. ”

Price’s second act—behind a microphone—carried a different kind of leadership. After retiring from coaching, he stepped into broadcasting with an openness that sounded more like a rookie than a veteran.

“Being that I had retired from coaching, I didn’t have anything to do anyway. So I said, I’ll give it a try, ” Price said. “I’ve never done this before, but I’m coachable. ”

For more than 30 years on KSSK radio, Price and Michael W. Perry became part of the soundtrack of the morning commute for listeners across Hawaii. The dynamic made his identity portable—no ticket needed, no stadium required—just a radio dial and time moving forward in familiar increments.

Why this loss feels personal: identity, place, and the voice people trusted

The public résumé is substantial—athlete, coach, professor, columnist, sportscaster, radio personality—but the emotional math of grief often adds up differently. People mourn what the person represented in their own lives: a ritual, a tone, a standard, a sense that someone was paying attention to the same community they lived in.

In the story of larry price, there is a persistent through-line: a local figure repeatedly returning to his roots and turning that return into service. From Kaaawa to Roosevelt High School to the University of Hawaii, and later to a daily relationship with listeners, he occupied roles that were both public-facing and deeply local. Even the Rainbows identity he spoke about carried that insistence on geography and meaning—where a team sits, and what that location quietly demands of the people who represent it.

What happens now: privacy for family, remembrance for a community

The announcement of Price’s death included an appreciation for “prayers and sympathies conveyed” and a request for privacy from the family. Beyond that, the record of his life remains in the institutions and relationships he shaped: the University of Hawaii, the staff and players who worked under him, the colleagues he joined in broadcasting, and the listeners who built him into their mornings for more than three decades.

In the end, the loss is both official and intimate. A coach who helped guide a program into a new competitive level is gone. A longtime voice of local sports media is gone. And in countless cars and kitchens, the familiar presence of larry price is gone too—leaving the morning commute to carry on, sounding just slightly different than it did before.