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Some folks say the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs is the most intense and unpredictable hockey of the entire year. I think there is some merit to that belief. I also believe that the games become easier to officiate after the first round because teams risk less after-the-whistle and behind-the-play nonsense and the players just play.
The end of the first round of the playoffs is a bittersweet time, and not just for the teams that got eliminated (often in heartbreaking fashion). The same goes for many officials, as their NHL bosses decide who gets to move on to work the later rounds.
Today, I am going to share with you one of the toughest parts of being an NHL official. Much of the basis for these coveted assignments is personal and political in nature. It's couched in terms of "merit" and "performance" but that is not always the case.
Teams advance or get eliminated from the playoffs because they earn it on the ice. For many NHL officials, it was already pre-determined even before they report for training camp who will be working deep into the spring.
For others, time and tide take their toll. Make a tough and controversial call early in the playoffs and, unless you are one of the guys the officiating bosses pre-ordained, you're done. You will be dropped like a hot potato. The same goes if you are considered a maverick, as I was. Independent thought and judgment of a messy, reactive and amateurishly written Rule book is not welcome.
It's an interesting footnote to reflect on when you work your butt off to live and feel like you are fighting the good fight. Then there is the other aspect. No matter what I did on the ice, I was chronically living without hope of working deep into the playoffs.
As an optimistic person by nature, I felt there were never any obstacles within my control that I couldn't overcome with hard work and clear thinking. As a realist, I knew there were certain things beyond my control. I am also a fighter who wears my heart on my sleeve, and that didn't play well in certain offices in Toronto and New York.
After June 6, 1989, I knew in my heart that the upward mobility of my NHL refereeing career was over. That was the day my friend, mentor and my older son's namesake, John McCauley, died. From that point until my retirement in 2003, I had no support from my bosses.
Every single season, even before I showed up to NHL Officials training camp, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would never get the coveted assignments come playoff time. Every year, no matter how hard I worked on or off the ice, I'd be "Stanley Standbye" or "One-and-Done Stewart".
Unlike some of my peers, I always made sure to give 100 percent focus and devotion when I worked late season games involving two teams that were long since out of the playoffs. I could empathize. It's tough to live and work without hope.
The reasons for getting sent home every year were so transparently personal that it took a mental and emotional toll on me. I was determined not to let them break me or drive me out even though they had the power to deny me playoff games I felt -- and had many players, coaches and NHL team staff people tell me -- I had earned.
The handwriting was on the wall for me in 1989. My bosses told me I was done early because "you're not as good as these 10 other referees." There were 11 full-time referees in the NHL that year. If there was ever a doubt where I stood in Bryan Lewis' pecking order, that pretty much erased it.
In the 1996 playoffs, I was officially denied for being "out of shape." It was my devotion to conditioning -- in an era when few players and officials paid any attention to such things -- that got me to the NHL twice over as a player and a referee. All of the sudden, I was told I was out of shape.
Another year -- when I worked a playoff game where St. Louis' Grant Fuhr got injured after Toronto's Nick Kypreos fell on him -- my bosses basically blamed me for it and told me I was "too controversial" to continue.
I worked another series -- Rangers at Montreal -- where I disallowed a goal that could have gone either way. On the basis of being told I made a single "blown" call, I was told I was done for the year.
How do you combat that? You can't. City Hall always wins. What I did was make sure they couldn't drive me out of the League and they couldn't muzzle me from speaking my mind. I never backed away from a fight in my life.
My grandfather, U.S. Hockey Hall of Famer Bill Stewart, refereed the third game ever played at Boston Garden and a host of subsequent famous games. My dad worked 19 Beanpot tourneys and refereed the Cornell versus Boston University NCAA championship game with Ken Dryden in net. I spent countless days and nights at the Garden growing up. Later, I made my NHL playing debut in Boston Garden and, of course, am a native Bostonian.
This history mini-lesson comes by way of explanation: I dearly coveted the chance to referee the final game played at Boston Garden. I knew that it was as much my legacy as it was my right to be there.
Arrogantly, condescendingly my boss laughed at me when I asked for that assignment.
"No," he said. "I have better and more senior people than you."
I was not going to take no for an answer. So I did something I felt I had to do. I broke the Chain of Command and went over his head.
I got two NHL icons to step up and help make it happen. They went to bat for me directly with the Commissioner and I got the game. When the playoffs rolled around, that was the year I was told I was "out of shape" and got sent home.
It was retaliation, plain and simple. Paybacks are a bitch.
I have channeled all of these experiences into my post-active career. I am determined to be a better boss. Nowadays, it is my job to hire, fire or retire people. I assign officials in six leagues and oversee a seventh. That's a lot of games and a lot of assignments.
Giving deserving people the Beanpot or The ECAC Finals is the fun part of the job. The hardest part is calling people to tell them that I have no more games for them, and for some, it's forever.
I always try to remember how I felt when I was disappointed or told I wasn't good enough. The difference with me is that it's never, ever personal. I try to make certain that the decision is one arrived at after much discussion and reflection.
It's never easy to tell someone that they are done. I make sure that we make decisions based on a consensus from Supervisors, The Commissioner and finally, from my own gut feel. I never make a decision without talking to others I respect for their input.
There was a revolving door of officiating supervisors before I took over in the ECAC. Now our officials are regulars in the regionals and the Frozen Four. There are so many things that I wish the NHL would do differently when it comes to its officials and its Rule Book, but I can only hope from afar these days that I live to see it happen.
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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born citizen to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the first American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.
Today, Stewart is an officiating and league discipline consultant for the Kontinental Hockey League (KHL) and serves as director of hockey officiating for the Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC).
The longtime referee heads Officiating by Stewart, a consulting, training and evaluation service for officials. Stewart also maintains a busy schedule as a public speaker, fund raiser and master-of-ceremonies for a host of private, corporate and public events. As a non-hockey venture, he is the owner of Lest We Forget.
Stewart is currently working with a co-author on an autobiography.