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I hope all of my readers have enjoyed their holiday season. Best wishes for a safe, happy and healthy 2023 for all of my readers. The last couple months have been an exciting and hectic time for me -- a busy man is a happy man, my mother used to say, so get busy -- and I'm looking forward to staying busy in the New Year.
As 2022 draws to a close, here are some of my thoughts on recent goings-on in the hockey world as well as my own life: I call it my New Year's Eve Stew. Let's dig in:
1) Speaking of human abilities, I dislike the cliche about athletes, entertainers or anyone else "giving 110%." It is an illogical phrase and, frankly, can be disingenuous. Regardless of what endeavor someone pursues, there is only one hundred percent to give.
We all have the capacity to unlock a higher level of potential than we once realized was possible within us. That is accomplished through passionate commitment, work ethic, persistence, a willingness to sacrifice, an ability to learn and apply those lessons; in other words, it is done through giving 100 percent, even when no one else is watching. Give your best, realize that mistakes will happen and then go all out to assess and correct those mistakes. This is the path to turning so-called over-achievement into lasting achievement.
I am leery of anyone who says he or she (or a team) "needs to give 110 percent." What it really means is that they are either underselling their maximum abilities or they are simply posturing. A good boss sets ambitious and demanding but fair expectations. Pushing staff to give 100 percent -- and to reach higher levels by doing so -- is good coaching and management. Demanding more than 100 percent is dehumanizing, unrealistic and ultimately, self-defeating because it only sets people up to fail.
I had great mentors who taught me this particular lesson through their wisdom and their own deeds: my grandfather and father, John McCauley, Frank Udvari, John Ashley, Dave Newell and others. It is a life lesson as well as a sporting lesson.
2) New Year's Eve is a time for folks to have some (responsible) fun. Whenever this day arises, I can't help but chuckle thinking about some of the New Year's Eves of my on-ice officiating and playing careers. One of the most memorable was New Year's Eve 1987 in Vancouver, BC.
On that night, I reffed a Canucks game against the Winnipeg Jets. I was in great spirits all day. Vancouver is a tremendous city and I had a date with a beautiful blonde planned for after the game. My tux was ready to go, and I couldn't wait to ring in the New Year in grand style.
The game was a physical one with several fights, but nothing out of the ordinary. That is until after I escorted the Jets' Steve Rooney, a friend and fellow Bostonian, to the penalty box.
I made the mistake of turning my back on the Dorchester boy (we're all a bunch of miscreants). Suddenly, I turn around and there's Rooney, back out on the ice, rolling around in a tussle.
My first thought: "Uh, oh. This one is going to be lots of fun to explain to my bosses."
Rather than spending my New Year's Eve out on the town wining and dining a beautiful woman, I spent it back at the hotel filing an incident report with the NHL. My "date" was linesman Randy Mitton. We were eager to get the tedious process done as soon as possible.
As an official, one is accountable for anything unusual that happens during the game. Filing incident reports is part of the turf but not one of the more enjoyable tasks that arise. To paraphrase Yogi Berra, the hockey game ain't over til the refs finish the paperwork.
So long as I live, I will never forget my phone conversation with NHL officiating director John McCauley a few hours after the Rooney incident.
"So you are telling me that Rooney just fell out of the penalty box?" McCauley asked, incredulously.
"That's right," I said. "Strange, huh?"
After a long pause, John said, "You know, they just don't make those damn doors the way they used to. Happy new year, Paul."
As a ref, I couldn't hate the players for trying. I understood their reasons but I needed to keep in mind that it was my job to keep it fair and to keep it safe. When a player might go really, really overboard, with a stick swing or something equally stupid, I had to draw the line. I had to get firm and hang tough. I'd call a penalty in a game and then a day later, sit across from Marty McSorley, Dave Brown, Stephane Richer or some other guy who wandered too far and got a match penalty (which necessitated a report to the league).
Facing a suspension and listening to my unemotional and factual report, inevitably the heat would rise in the hearing room. More than once, I got challenged to "step outside." With a laugh and without blinking, I would say that stepping outside wouldn't bother me but that would only add to the other guy's problems and his misery.
Inevitably, Brian O'Neil would get things calm and my final and personal response after my report would be when the player would say to me, "Jeez Stewy, you used to play tough. You should know why I hit him."
I would always respond with this, "I don't mind that you hit him, but next time, leave the stick out of it. I never used a stick, just my fists."
Believe me, these reports and hearings were things I'd gladly have lived without -- especially on New Year's Eve!
3) A huge thank you to all who have ordered "Ya Wanna Go?" and/or "A Magical Christmas for Paul Stewart". The books were published four years ago but are still selling. It's humbling.
Once again, happy New Year to all and a a final heartfelt thank you to all who made 2022 special.
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A 2018 inductee into the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame, 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.
Blogger •Former NHL Referee • 
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