Courtesy Washington Post

(June 3, 2010) On the morning of April 29, Ron Weber got a call from Chuck Kaiton, president of the NHL Broadcasters' Association, who brought welcome news: Weber had won the 2010 Foster Hewitt Memorial Award, awarded annually to a TV or radio broadcaster during the Hockey Hall of Fame Induction weekend.

"The culmination of my career," said Weber, the radio voice of the Caps for the first 23 years of their existence.

But it was also a bit of particularly good cheer, coming as it did 12 hours after the Caps had flamed out in the first round of the playoffs. Weber, who still goes to about 35 games a year, had been at Game 7, and was going through the same morning-after doldrums the rest of Washington suffered on that April morning. Then he found out he was going to Toronto.

"Euphoric," said Weber, 76, describing his emotions. "I said, 'Boy, I needed that.' "

Weber's work may be foreign to the Caps' newest generation of fans, but he helped forge the team's initial community, calling the team's first 1,936 games. He did so with joy, even when the team was setting new standards of futility. Just 19 of Weber's first 160 games were wins, and team employees joked that he was one of just two men who were sad to see the eight-win inaugural season end. (The other was forward Bill Lesuk, an incurable optimist.)

Neither was he bothered by the rigors of play-by-play life, which sometimes left him scrambling to keep his streak intact. There was the time when his son Tod wrecked his knee during an all-star break skiing trip. Weber met up with his son in his northern California home, and booked the latest flight from San Jose to Edmonton, connecting through Las Vegas. The second leg was canceled, leaving him sleeping under a metal palm tree in the Vegas airport. The next morning he flew back to the Bay Area, then on to Calgary and finally Edmonton, arriving a couple of hours before the puck dropped.

And there was the time in Winnipeg when his retina tore, leaving him rushing off the plane in Vancouver and into an eye doctor's office.

"Did the game that night," he said proudly. "Couldn't see out of one eye real good. It looked like I was seeing out of a salmon-colored curtain."

After he was replaced by Steve Kolbe prior to the 1997 season, his wife Mary Jane suggested he "smell the roses," so he never really pursued another job. Neither did he campaign for this honor, never even mentioning it to his wife.

When the news release finally went out Tuesday, the calls started flooding in. In the first 14 minutes of our chat, his phone rang five times, with the callers including the voice of the Nashville Predators and Joe Beninati, his former partner.

He had friends who were doctors and dentists and surgeons, and "they seemed like they were doing more important things," but when fans would say the sort of happiness he could bring, he stopped worrying as much about that. I told him that whenever I post a word about the Caps' broadcast coverage, someone is sure to mention his name, and he said he still gets stopped in the concourse.

"That makes me feel so good, that I'm not forgotten," he said.

This honor reinforces that message.

"After this, there's nothing left for me to accomplish from a professional point of view," he said. "Life is great. I'm at peace with the world and enjoying things. This is the icing on the cake."

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