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liamenator · 04-29-2014, 11:47 AM

Thanks for starting this thread, was going to post this in the presser thread, but it's more suitable here.

Bizarrely, the Peter Maher memory that sticks out most for me was his call of the most forgettable, nothing game you can imagine. It was in March or early April of 2001, the Flames had long since been eliminated from playoff contention--again--and so there was nothing to play for and no real reason to listen. But, being young and contrarian, I was among a small group that decided to take a break from whatever party we were at to cram into a Honda Civic to listen to the third period of the Flames game against Minnesota or Columbus or some other doormat team.

I look back and I marvel at the professionalism and enthusiasm Peter demonstrated during that game--which was pretty close to the nadir of those 7 years in the wilderness--and so many others like it. The genuine excitement of his call when the Flames scored late to tie the game was infectious, and so we hooted and hollered and honked the horn, reveling in the exhilaration of fandom, if only for a few minutes. Imagining what it might be like to have more moments like this.

There was something special about those calls during the dark years. Being a Flames fan felt almost like being in small, secret, super uncool club. A Flames fan was not a hip thing to be for those of us who were just a bit too young to really have been a part of the 1989 run, but a bit too old to not have cynically soured on the 'Shames' as so many had. Peter's calls legitimated your excitement and encouraged your support. Forgive the melodrama, but that voice was an anchor. Its familiarity preserved some of the aura of the heady days of the past, and its enthusiasm offered the faintest glimmer of hope that they may yet return.

That's what Peter Maher did, every game night for 35 years. He conjured up magic, no matter how meaningless a goal or a game, he made you feel like you were right there, at ice level, amidst a roaring crowd. And so when I actually found myself amidst those surreal, teeming crowds of 2004, I thought about Peter Maher a lot. I thought about how satisfying it must have been for him to see the team finally manufacture some of that magic he had so generously and dutifully conjured for us, on the radio, for all those years.

04-29-2014, 11:47 AM	#6
liamenator First Line Centre Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: Ottawa Exp:	Thanks for starting this thread, was going to post this in the presser thread, but it's more suitable here. Bizarrely, the Peter Maher memory that sticks out most for me was his call of the most forgettable, nothing game you can imagine. It was in March or early April of 2001, the Flames had long since been eliminated from playoff contention--again--and so there was nothing to play for and no real reason to listen. But, being young and contrarian, I was among a small group that decided to take a break from whatever party we were at to cram into a Honda Civic to listen to the third period of the Flames game against Minnesota or Columbus or some other doormat team. I look back and I marvel at the professionalism and enthusiasm Peter demonstrated during that game--which was pretty close to the nadir of those 7 years in the wilderness--and so many others like it. The genuine excitement of his call when the Flames scored late to tie the game was infectious, and so we hooted and hollered and honked the horn, reveling in the exhilaration of fandom, if only for a few minutes. Imagining what it might be like to have more moments like this. There was something special about those calls during the dark years. Being a Flames fan felt almost like being in small, secret, super uncool club. A Flames fan was not a hip thing to be for those of us who were just a bit too young to really have been a part of the 1989 run, but a bit too old to not have cynically soured on the 'Shames' as so many had. Peter's calls legitimated your excitement and encouraged your support. Forgive the melodrama, but that voice was an anchor. Its familiarity preserved some of the aura of the heady days of the past, and its enthusiasm offered the faintest glimmer of hope that they may yet return. That's what Peter Maher did, every game night for 35 years. He conjured up magic, no matter how meaningless a goal or a game, he made you feel like you were right there, at ice level, amidst a roaring crowd. And so when I actually found myself amidst those surreal, teeming crowds of 2004, I thought about Peter Maher a lot. I thought about how satisfying it must have been for him to see the team finally manufacture some of that magic he had so generously and dutifully conjured for us, on the radio, for all those years.