CALGARY – There are broadcasters you remember for the calls.
And then there are broadcasters you remember for the way they made you feel.
On the radio, he had the ability to make you feel like you were watching the game.
In person, he could make you feel like a million bucks.
The legendary voice of the Calgary Flames died Thursday at 79, leaving behind 33 seasons, nearly 3,000 games, a Hockey Hall of Fame plaque and enough adoring fans and colleagues to fill every arena in the league.
But his greatest legacy may have nothing to do with hockey.
It was how he treated people.
Sincerity. Integrity. Dedication. Respect.
Those were the four pillars of the career and life of a man who had no ego, no edge and no interest in making anyone feel small.
That’s why, when Maher retired 13 years ago, Calgary’s media created an award in his honour.
Every year, the Peter Maher Good Guy Award goes to the Flames player who best represents those qualities. The most respected man in the room.
And every year, Peter showed up to present it.
Even this spring, amidst an awful battle with his knees, he arrived with a walker. And watching a room full of what’s left of Calgary media types fall all over themselves trying to help him get around told you everything you needed to know.
Generosity breeds generosity.
Peter brought it out in people.
“There are very few people in this business who have no ego,” said longtime broadcaster Peter Loubardias.
“Peter Maher had no ego. He was just there to do his job, and be kind to everyone who crossed his path.”
Loubardias worked alongside him for only one year.
“To this day I feel so lucky and privileged,” he said. “He did it the right way.”
Mike Rogers got 12 years with him, from 2000 to 2012.
“There wasn’t a finer man I ever met,” Rogers said Thursday, still struggling over the news.
“I lost a great friend. He’s in the Hall of Fame as a broadcaster, but he should be in the Hall of Fame as a person.”
Rogers called him a mentor.
Peter took him under his wing, showed him the ropes and demonstrated what preparation really meant – endless hours in hotel rooms, at home, on planes and doing radio hits.
“He loved every minute of it,” said Rogers.
“The passion he had for it and the love he had for the game rubbed off on me.”
“We were attached at the hip, and every city we went to you could see how many people gravitated to him, and how much they respected him,” he said.
“Amazing how many people he touched.”
Lanny McDonald saw that from the other side of the microphone.
“He was such a good person, as well as an unbelievable announcer,” echoed McDonald.
“He had this knack of being able to tell the story about the game, never criticize anyone. In his subtle way, he would say, ‘I’ve seen him play better.’ It was his way of not being negative.”
That was Peter – a man who garnered just as much love from fans at the endless charity events he emceed as McDonald, or Harvey the Hound.
“Yes, I’m third on that list,“ laughed McDonald.
Maher’s first Flames goal call came on a McDonald snipe.
His last involved Johnny Gaudreau.
In between, he called every Jarome Iginla finish, every Miikka Kiprusoff save and painted the picture of every triumph and heartbreak, providing Calgary with the soundtrack to three decades of hockey.
He called the 1989 Stanley Cup, the 2004 Final, six All-Star Games and four Stanley Cup Finals. He called Canada’s men’s hockey games at the 2010 Olympics. In 2006, the Hockey Hall of Fame gave him the Foster Hewitt Memorial Award.
As a historian of sorts, if Peter said it happened, it most certainly did, adding his signature “Yeah, baby!” only when the moment called for it.
As a proud Alberta transplant, the native of Campbellton, N.B loved dotting games with his trademark, “You can put it in the win column!”
Those words became part of Calgary’s hockey vocabulary.
Yet, he never sounded like a man who believed the game was about him.
He sounded like a man grateful to be invited.
Colin Patterson remembers meeting him at his first camp and thinking, “his voice didn’t match the body.”
They travelled together commercially. Shared layovers. Shared meals.
“He was one of the guys,” said Patterson, pointing out how integral Maher’s role was in the days when only 27 games a year were broadcast on TV.
As big a name as anyone who ever graced the Calgary sporting landscape, Pete was always happy to pose for a pic, share a story and a smile.
At his retirement, Peter memorably spoke of an upcoming Rod Stewart concert at the Saddledome.
“If you happen to be in the crowd when he sings Forever Young, think of me,” he said.
Calgary has lost its beloved radio voice, its Hall of Fame broadcaster and one of its finest gentlemen.
And that, Calgary, is something you can put in the loss column.
