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I found out the other day that longtime NHL linesman Mike Cvik and referee Rob Martell will be retiring midway through this season. Congratulations to both men for their longevity in a sports league where NHL could just as easily stand for Not Here Long for the majority who make it to this level; and where many more would be envious of even getting an NHL cup of coffee.

Winnipeg native Martell will work his milestone 1,000th game before retiring. Mike has worked well over 1,800 games. It makes me feel old.

I knew Rob when he was first breaking in as an official in 1996. Before that, I knew Rob's dad, the late Bob Martell, for years when he was the NHL's Security Representative for the Winnipeg Jets. I've always known Rob to be a good guy from a good family and a survivor in this game.

Cvik is one of my closest friends in the game. He used to wrestle under the name Tony Cross before starting an officiating career, and he certainly was built for it. On skates, Mike stood damn close to seven feet tall. On his bare feet, Mike stood a little over 6-foot-9 and he weighed about 265 well-hewn pounds.

I can still close my eyes and remember games that Mike and I work in Calgary, with our partner official being a diminutive linesman of Asian descent. We made quite the sight, the three of us!

I can picture the T-Bird that Mike drove, with the seat pushed all the way back -- and still lacking leg room for him. One day he was driving me around the Alberta countryside.

"What are those things running around?" I asked, pointing.

"They're antelopes," Cvik said.

"I thought those were supposed to be orange, not brown," I replied.

"Antelopes, Stew, not cantaloupes!" Mike responded.

In the NHL, I returned the favor. When he came to the eastern U.S. for the first time, I thought it was only right if I took him around New York City. I told him we'd go all around the city -- a bit by public transit to cover long distances but mostly by walking around the city.

The weather was a bit chilly, and I was wearing a trench coat as we walked down 42nd Street. Now, this was back before 42nd Street was revitalized. These were the days when the locale was truly something like what was depicted in Taxi Driver: seedy as hell, with all sorts of shady people walking around. Mike had never seen anything quite like it.

As we walk down the street, one of the street characters says hello to me. From the way he was dressed and the jewelry he sported, he was obviously a dope dealer and probably pimping as well.

"Hey, how ya been my man?" he says.

"Not too bad," I said. "How's business?"

"Aw, real good, real good," he said.

"Well, you have a good night," I said.

"You too, brother. You, too!"

As we walked on, Mike turned to me with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Do you really know that guy?" he asked.

"Nah," I said. "Never seen him before in my life. He thinks we're cops."

We did look like plain clothes cops, actually. No one else disturbed us as we walked onward.

Here's another one about Mike, as well as Brad Lazarowich. We had an off-day after working in Quebec, and were staying at the Sheraton. There was an all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffet for $9.50 (the soda wasn't included) right behind the Sheraton Hotel. The infamous Cabaret Les Amazones was also right near by.

"I'm hungry," Brad said. "Let's go to the Chinese buffet."

"Sounds good to me. You up for it, Stewy?" Mike asked.

I went along. Have you ever seen that TV commercial from a few years ago where a 400-pound sumo wrestler singlehandedly puts an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant out of business by eating their entire supply of fish and rice? Well, the first time I saw that commercial, I had deja vu.

Mike and Brad attacked several bowls of soup, and then ate -- without exaggeration -- 300 chicken wings between them. Then, after a brief respite about an hour into the meal, it was time for egg rolls, entrees and more chicken wings. By this point, there were so many bones piled up, it looked like a scene from Jurassic Park!

With no sign of the $9.50 feast ending any time soon, the owner started to get perturbed. He approached the table, glaring at my friends.

"Here's your money! You go! Don't come back!" he yelled.

To this day, I think Mike and Brad's pictures might still be posted there so they'll never be allowed to eat at the joint again. Oh, and by the way, they were -- and still are -- both outstanding linesmen whom I was proud to call my friends as well as my teammates.

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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 serves as director of hockey officiating for the ECAC at both the Division 1 and Division 3 levels.

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.