In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to CIB/ Pires Education Fund, c/o Credit Information Bureau, 70 Jefferson Blvd., Warwick, RI 02888.

Directions to Our New Bedford Location

From Boston: Travel Route 24 South to Exit 12, Route 140 toward Taunton and New Bedford. At the end of the ramp, turn right onto Route 140 south toward New Bedford. Travel approximately 20 miles to the traffic signal at the end of Route 140. Turn left onto U.S. Highway 6 East. Continue 1 mile to Park Street. Turn left (north) onto Park Street and continue to its end. The funeral home is the last building on the left (west) side of the street, approximately 60 miles from Boston.

From Providence: Travel I-195 East to Exit 13A, Route 140 South toward New Bedford. Travel South approximately 1 mile to traffic signal at the end of Route 140. Turn left onto U.S. Highway 6 East. Continue 1 mile to Park Street. Turn left (north) onto Park Street and continue to its end. The funeral home is the last building on the left (west) side of the street.

From Cape Cod: Travel I-195 West to Exit 13A, Route 140 South toward New Bedford and Dartmouth. Travel south approximately 1 mile to traffic signal at the end of Route 140. Turn left onto U.S. Highway 6 East. Continue 1 mile to Park Street. Turn left (north) onto Park Street and continue to its end. The funeral home is the last building on the left (west) side of the street.

After I heard about Dan I immediately checked here for postings. You gave my family a wonderful gift by having Alan’s friends and collegues post stories and memories on your site. I encourage Dan’s colleagues and friends to do the same for his wife Becky and their children. What you write here will be something they will cherish forever, I can guarantee that.

I never met Dan but I do know Alan had a great amount of respect for “DP.” Not because of what he wrote but because of who he was. A man who loved his family, his heritage and life.

My thoughts and prayers are with his family. I know their grief and there are no words.

Anne-Marie Greenberg

The first preseason game after the first Super Bowl win, then-sports editor Jonathan Comey asked me if I wanted to take his spot alongside Dan in covering that particular game. The plan wasn’t for me to join in for the season, but just to cover one meaningless exhibition game. I had met Dan before, in the newsroom while working the high school phones, and we had exchanged numerous e-mails but we had never really worked together closely.

It only took one ride from my home in Wareham to Foxboro to realize I wanted to work with this guy as much as I could. And I must’ve shown him something as well, because the next thing I knew, I was riding with him each and every home game from then on. Through blizzards, through traffic, through car troubles, through everything, there’s nobody I’d rather ride with.

Not only was he a great reporter, he was a great man. Over the next six years, Dan taught me how to respect and understand athletes not as subjects in a story, but as human beings. He taught me how to do my job in the most effective way, while never crossing anyone in the process. He taught me to greet everyone with a smile on my face, a joke or anecdote to share, and that the question of “how’s your family?” is even more important than “what happened on that play?”

Those rides more often than not featured Dan driving, due to a string of vehicle problems for me the last few years. It seems like I could never keep a car running during the fall and winter months. But Dan always picked me up, never complaining, even when he had to add an hour or more onto his commute to the stadium. And the first question he always asked me, after his traditional greeting of “What’s up, brother?,” was always about my wife and son.

During those rides, he gave me advice. He gave me direction. But never preached. And it was always, ALWAYS appreciated. He taught me to appreciate the Average White Band and funk music in general. He taught me where to find good barbeque. He taught me about the Portuguese culture, including some words I should never use.

The most important thing he ever taught me, though, was that there’s always time for your family. We could be in the middle of the most interesting, most important conversation, but if his phone rang and it was Taylor or Jillie, everything came to a stop. Nothing mattered more to him than his family. And I took that to heart.

Dan Pires will forever have a lasting impact on my life. He was old enough to be my father, yet young at heart enough to be one of my best friends. He texted me just Tuesday night to tell me about the Shaq rap video. He texted me throughout the Celtics’ championship Game 6 clinch, telling me how happy he was for me as a writer and a fan. Nobody was a bigger fan of my work, more supportive of what I write. He even hooked me up with my restaurant-review gig, and taught me to be well-rounded as a writer.

Every time I drive to that stadium, I’ll miss my friend. Every time I sit down at a table in the press dining area to feast on what Dan called “quail,” I’ll miss my friend. Every time I hear the press room announcer say “Five yards, FAAAWWWK,” I’ll miss my friend.

But every time I fire up my laptop, every time I put pen to paper and most importantly, every time I look at my family–I’ll remember what my friend taught me.

When next we meet, I can’t wait to hear the stories you’ll have for me. I love you brother.

Peace, Dan.

Peace.

I, too, would like to echo the sentiments of my fellow colleagues who have all done such a magnificent job of capturing the essence of the man behind the byline.

I started covering the Patriots seven years ago, fresh out of college, and Dan Pires was among the few who took the time to show me the ropes and make me feel welcome (the other being my close friend and colleague, Mark Farinella).

As others have already said, Dan had a way of making you feel like you had known him for years, even if you had just met him a few minutes ago. He was warm, friendly, genuine and — most importantly — trustworthy. I knew I could tell Dan anything, whether personal or professional, and it wouldn’t leave the room. That’s how he earned the trust of so many others throughout his life, from athletes to peers to equipment managers in the Gillette Stadium locker room.

Dan helped me get through some rough patches in my life during these past few months, and I will never, ever forget his compassion and wisdom. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.

Unfortunately, we never take the time to write these words until someone has passed, but I’m sure Dan knows how I, and everyone else, felt about him. More importantly, I hope the kind words and anecdotes from others help his family get through this terrible, terrible tragedy.

Thank you, Bruce, for allowing us to use this forum to express our feelings about Dan Pires.

It’s very sad news and we fans will miss him on the Pats beat.

First, and most importantly, he was full of positive things to say. As a young writer covering any pro team, the smallest compliments can truly make your day. There were a number of times Dan came up to me to tell me he was proud of something I did — a one-on-one interview, a good question among a group of reporters, etc. — and things like that really stick with you. Dan didn’t have to do that, but that’s who he was and he probably didn’t even realize how important it was to hear that.

Secondly, I’ll always remember covering the 2007 NFL Draft in the Gillette Stadium press box. While we were passing the time between picks, a handful of us (well, probably just me) were listening to the UMass-Syracuse lacrosse game when Dan picked up on it from two rows back. What resulted was a great lacrosse conversation (much of it being Dan bragging about his son, whom he was clearly proud of) while most in between us looked on as though we were speaking in a foreign language.

It seemed as though Dan knew about everything, whether it was lacrosse, the Revs or the guitar in some great conversations with Junior Seau. There’s no wonder why so many are paying tribute to Dan. He deserves it for everything he’s done for us.

I’ve known Danny since he came on the beat, and always respected the enthusiasm and joy he brought to his work. It never ceased to amaze me how he could develop such warm and trusting relationships with athletes who might otherwise be reluctant to drop their defenses to reporters. He accomplished it with sincerity.

Danny worked hard to reshape himself after Alan Greenberg’s equally shocking and untimely passing, and he did it not out of fear, but out of his frequently-expressed love for his family and his desire to be able to spend a long and happy life with them. This is the unkindest cut of all.

My heart goes out to his wife and children. They have lost a loving husband and father; we have lost a valued and respected colleague and friend.

–Mark Farinella, The Sun Chronicle, Attleboro