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One of the funniest things ever said about me was uttered by Bob "the Hound" Kelly: "Paul Stewart is one of those guys who knows how to turn lemons into beer."

Although I've never really tried my hand at making shandies and I think the Hound was actually going for a "lemons into lemonade" analogy, I appreciated the sentiment. My critics may be right that I had a checkered career during my playing days especially, but no one could dispute that I've worked my butt off to last in this sport far longer than anyone ever thought I would or could.

Along the way, I've done a lot of interesting things and crossed paths with an array of intriguing people. One of the people with whom my paths crossed several times another lifetime ago was Vince McMahon Jr., the famous (some would say infamous) chairman of what is now called World Wrestling Entertainment.

As a kid, I grew up in and around the Boston Arena (now Matthews Arena) on what is now part of the campus of Northeastern University. That was my playground for much of the year. It was where I learned to skate, where I worked some odd jobs and also where I would go to watch my father referee games and take in other events at the facility for free.

Vince McMahon Sr.'s pro wrestling promotion -- the forerunner to what later became known as the WWWF, WWF and, finally, WWE -- frequently ran shows at the Arena during the late 1950s and 1960s. I got to know many of the wrestlers of the day, including the likes of William "Haystacks" Calhoun (purported to be 600 pounds), Walter "Killer" Kowalski (who lived locally), Robert "Gorilla Monsoon" Marella, "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers and Pat O'Connor.

They were all nice guys. Even Rogers, who was not very well-liked behind the scenes in his day but was a top gate attraction, treated me nicely.

I used to make a couple dollars a month doing odd jobs around the arena, helping out the men who ran the skate shop and the snack bar. The latter guy was a bookie on the side. He would sometimes disappear for long stretches to take some people's last-minute bets while I, before my 10th birthday, was left in charge of getting customers their french fries, burgers or hot chocolate.

With some change in my pocket or maybe a dollar given to me by my dad, I would sometimes go to the Windsor Tap across the street for a hot turkey sandwich. It was not uncommon at that time for me to run into athletes and performers who worked at the arena.

Kowalski, who usually portrayed a heel (bad guy) because he could strike mean-looking facial expressions even when he wasn't trying to, was actually an extremely approachable and polite man. One time, he offered to teach me how he did his famous "claw hold," telling me that he'd make sure to let up so as not to hurt me with it. He warned me that I needed to be very careful about how I used it because it could debilitate someone if misused.

I knew full well that was a crock, but played along as if he was really teaching me some super-secretive fighting technique. I knew Kowalski was just protecting his livelihood in a time when no one in pro wrestling would admit the outcomes were scripted and the "fighting" in the ring was cooperate rather than competitive.

Haystacks in particular took a liking to me. He was a kind and gentle soul and a fantastic fixture in my young life.

Calhoun loved to watch hockey and enjoyed sitting in the penalty box where he kept the opposing players separated while they served penalties. The referees loved having him there because his girth kept the peace. He had another special spot in the stands. The cast iron arm rests were removed so he could fit on the wooden seats.

Haystacks wore massive jean bib overalls and plaid shirts, both in the ring and in public. A horseshoe, which he told me he wore for luck, hung from a metal chain around his neck. When my father reffed high school and college games at the Boston Arena, he often had me sit with Haystacks. Many times, it was Calhoun who took me across the street to the Windsor Tap or over to Crusher Casey’s Bar and Grille.

I would order one egg and a piece of toast while Haystacks ate like an entire Army. I am not exaggerating when i tell you that the man routinely ordered four dozen eggs, two loaves of bread worth of toast and as much bacon as they had in the kitchen.

I never starved when Haystacks babysat me! He often ordered us french fries when we returned to the rink from eating across the street. People sometimes ask me me how I grew to be 6 foot 1 when my mother was 5-feet-tall, my father was about 5-foot-6 and my grandfather was also not a tall man.

"It was the Boston Arena fries," I respond.

Fast forward to the early 1980s. This was not a happy time in my life. I had reluctantly walked away from hockey and a chance at getting back to the National Hockey League after my stint with the Quebec Nordiques in order to save my marriage. The marriage was beyond saving at that point, though, and my window of opportunity for another crack at the NHL also closed on me.

I was living on Cape Cod near Vince McMahon Jr., and the two of us struck up an acquaintance. He was surprised that a Groton School and University of Pennsylvania kid knew so much about his family's business. Vince had had a bit of a tough upbringing, and I didn't know him nearly well enough to talk about it but he was clearly an ambitious overachiever and saw that I had some of the same traits.

At the time, Vince Jr. was dabbling in the hockey business, having promoted games at the Cape Cod Coliseum (where he'd purchased an ownership interest) and then owning the short-lived Cape Cod Buccaneers of the Atlantic Coast Hockey League (1981–82). McMahon's interest in hockey was more financial than personal, having seen the sport's rabid and loyal following that was somewhat akin to the cult following that the pro wrestling business had at the time.

McMahon's vision for how to promote hockey was steeped in what he was familiar with from pro wrestling. He had been around hockey and its people just enough to know it was filled with some rather colorful characters, including myself. McMahon wanted us magnify those natural personalities into something he could market. It was the partially the same blueprint he also later unsuccessfully tried in football with the ill-fated XFL.

At any rate, Vince invited me to play for the Buccaneers and I did for five games. The team did not even last the full season, as McMahon decided to fold it early.

From the opening night of the season, McMahon was not happy with how the league was run. It was his belief that hockey could use more non-stop action and less structure. He liked the collisions and fighting, and wanted even more of those things (mind you, this was during the early 1980s, not all that long after the Broad Street Bullies and Slap Shot). Basically, McMahon dreamed of a league developing hockey product that also had elements of roller derby and pro wrestling thrown in, minus the choreography and pre-determined outcomes.

First of all, he proposed the ACHL adopt some rather unconventional rules to make it stand out from other hockey leagues. Not a single one of his suggestions was approved. I don't know all the specifics, but one of his more well-known offbeat ideas that immediately got shot down was to eliminate things like offsides and icings from the rulebook so that the puck could be played anywhere by either team.

To McMahon's dismay, the ACHL turned out to be just another nondescript hockey bush league, just as the predecessor Eastern League had been. There was plenty of fighting (and I knew Vince didn't want me for my dazzling hockey skills) but that really wasn't much different from most of the minor circuits of the time, or even the NHL.

Furthermore, McMahon could not get along with any of the five other club owners in the seven-team league. Just about the only thing that constantly bickering lot of men could agree upon was that they all thought Vince McMahon Jr. was a kook.

No, there was not a typo in the previous paragraph. There were seven teams in the league but only six different team owners, because Schenectady and Fitchburg were both owned by Robert Critelli. McMahon was livid when he found that out. Fitchburg was placed under a league suspension and folded just six games into the season. The Schenectady team folded after nine games.

And then there were five...

McMahon's Cape Cod team, like all the others, hemorrhaged red ink. In January 1982, McMahon requested a $15,000 loan from the league to keep the franchise afloat. The request was considered for about two-tenths of a second before it was denied. McMahon then folded the Buccaneers.

And then there were four...

With just four teams left in the league, everyone was now guaranteed of a playoff spot. So the format was changed to minimize travel and to have the two geographically closest teams play each other in the playoffs. As a matter of fact, the rest of the regular season was scrapped and the playoffs began shortly after the Bucs folded. Bill Horton's Mohawk Valley Stars won the championship.

So much for my short career as a Buccaneer. However, I was once recognized as a member of the team.

I was asked, "Hey, don't you play for the Cape Cod Buccaneers?"

I said, "Buckin' A right!"

Both McMahon and I moved on to much bigger and better things than the ACHL. I haven't spoken with him in over 30 years, but when his name pops up in the news, I sometimes glance at what's going on with him and his family.

Within a few years of the demise of the Buccaneers, Vince Jr. started to build his pro wrestling empire -- sorry, Vince, I mean sports entertainment -- and I soon realized that my playing career was not destined to get back on track. In 1983, I began to embark on my journey into professional hockey officiating.

Based both on his experiences with other wrestling promoters (most of whom the WWF/WWE systematically drove out of business as it expanded rapidly in the 1980s from a regional to national and then international promotion) and from his foray into hockey with the Atlantic Coast League, McMahon came to have a hatred for co-promotion and wanted to be the boss of everything; free to set his own rules.

When he created his short-lived XFL football league, McMahon owned the entire league. There were no individual franchisees for the teams. This time with no one but himself to convince, McMahon was also able to implement a bunch of different rules from the NFL to try and differentiate his product from NFL football. He also tried to promote colorful and controversial personalities, such as Rod Smart wearing his "He Hate Me" jersey.

That didn't work any better than the Buccaneers venture or the professional bodybuilding league McMahon created. His enemies gloated, because McMahon has always had a bit of ruthless streak in him.

I will say this, though: I admire someone who dreams big, and pursues those dreams. Some of the methods were not quite so admirable, but his resourceful willingness to risk failure and ridicule have always been impressive. Failure never deterred McMahon, just as it never deterred me.

Who knows, maybe one of these days, our paths will cross again, and I'll share a lemon beer with Junior.

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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.

In addition to his blogs for HockeyBuzz every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, Stewart writes a column every Wednesday for the Huffington Post.