Kansas City, Mo. ? Every time Denny Matthews tells the story of the little old lady out in western Kansas, he chokes up.

Blind and in her 90s, she wrote a letter once to the radio voice of the Kansas City Royals that he has never forgotten.

“She said, ‘You’re my eyes at the ballpark,”‘ Matthews recalled Friday.

“The highlight of her day or night was Royals baseball. She was listening in. Wow! I should think about that lady every night when I go on the air. Your primary job is to describe the game the best you can, to put as good a word picture through that radio as you possibly can to make the game come alive for those who can’t see.”

Always with a friendly, personable quality in his voice and an understated style that seemed a perfect fit for Midwestern ears and Midwestern values, Matthews broadcast the first game the Royals ever played in 1969. Youngsters sitting on their porch that summer and listening to his cheerful, “Hi, everybody,” greeting at the beginning of every game are in their 50s now.

He’s still describing the action, and many will be listening again two months from now when he and the Royals open their 38th season together.

The difference now is when Kansas City fans talk about Royals who are in the Hall of Fame, they won’t necessarily mean George Brett.

On Thursday, the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., called to tell Matthews he’s the winner of the Ford C. Frick Award. He’ll join Cal Ripken Jr., Tony Gwynn and St. Louis baseball writer Rick Hummel as the Hall of Fame class for 2007.

“I’m still on Cloud 12,” Matthews said Friday with a big grin. “I’m slowly working my way down to Cloud Nine.”

Even as the fortunes of the Royals went into a tailspin in recent years – triple-digit losses in four of the past five seasons – Matthews remained a highly popular figure in Kansas City.

While loyal to the club, he never shied away from pointing out when the team was playing poorly, or when someone did not give full effort. The only criticism that was ever aimed at him came from people demanding that he be louder, more demonstrative and animated in his description of the action.

But that was never his natural style. He always stayed with what felt comfortable – let the game and the crowd noise tell the story as much as possible.

“It occurred to me – how many broadcasters are in the Hall of Fame who are yellers and screamers?” he said.

“Not many. Have you ever heard Ernie Harwell yelling and screaming? Ever heard Vin Scully yelling and screaming?”

As a student of his craft, Matthews was always intrigued with the way Scully, the Dodgers’ Hall of Fame broadcaster, called Henry Aaron’s record-breaking home run in Atlanta in 1974.

“Aaron hit the home run, and the crowd is just roaring,” Matthews said.

But Scully, instead of trying to roar along with them, got up and went to the back of the room and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“After about 2 or 3 minutes, he put the coffee down and described what he had just seen,” Matthews said.

“Think about that. What a remarkable ability just to let the crowd tell the story. His thinking was, ‘There’s nothing I can say that can possibly override the excitement of the crowd roaring through the radio.’

“To me, that is wonderful restraint. Vin Scully did not start yelling and screaming trying to make himself the story. Henry Aaron’s home run and the crowd reaction was the story.

“I’ve always remembered that. There’s nothing at times you can say that is going to be any more important or exciting or meaningful than hearing the crowd reaction. I’ve always said if I’m yelling and screaming, you’re probably not going to understand what I am saying.”

It’s a style and an approach that’s held up amazingly well for almost four decades in Kansas City, through the exciting championship seasons of 1976-85 and the dreary more recent era of 100-loss campaigns and team ERAs above 5.00.

The travel has become more wearying of late, and he’s found that cutting back a bit on road trips “recharges my battery.”

But this Hall of Famer has no thought of retiring any time soon.

“I guess you could say I’m day-to-day, I’m word-to-word,” he said. “But I still love coming to the park and broadcasting the game. Just think about it – what a great job I have!”

He hopes the little old lady out in western Kansas is still tuned in.

“I think I’ll make a little note to myself and put it on the microphone and think about it before every game – think of the lady out in western Kansas,” Matthews said. “It’s a privilege first, and it’s a big responsibility second.”