Back in the 1970s, hockey had its own version of the Cold War. Every team had its enforcers, which could be anywhere from just one main fighter up to a stockpile of five or a half dozen players who fought on a regular basis.
When I was a pro player, I knew I wasn't on the team for my pretty skating and fancy stickhandling, impressive as those skills may have been (haha!). There were many times where I might only skate a few shifts in a game or I might not get out there at all.
I played parts of two seasons, 1977-78 and 1978-79 to be precise, with the Cincinnati Stingers of the World Hockey Association. The WHA was a pretty wild league, with lots of goal scoring -- well, not by me -- and lots of fighting.
Our team in Cincinnati didn't have a great record, but we had our share of talented players at the top end of the lineup. At various times we had guys who had long pro careers like Robbie Ftorek (a fellow Massachusetts native), Rick Dudley, Pat Stapleton (at the end of his long career), a very young Mike Gartner and Mark Messier, Peter Marsh, Blaine Stoughton, Jamie Hislop, Butchie Deadmarsh and goalie Mike Liut. The coach was Jacques Demers, who later won a Stanley Cup with the Canadiens.
Oh yeah, my friend Barry Melrose was there, too. I had 241 penalty minutes my first year with the Stingers, and Barry had about 220 the next year.
Remember what I said earlier about the hockey version of the arms race? Here is the story of how I came to play for Cincinnati. On Thanksgiving Day, 1977, the Stingers had a road game against the Birmingham Bulls. At that time, I was still playing in Cape Cod.
The Bulls had just acquired Dave Hanson (of Slap Shot fame) and Steve Durbano. They already had Frank Beaton, Serge Beaudoin and Gilles "Bad News" Bilodeau (who later had an NHL stint with Quebec at about the same time I did).
The Birmingham team's top scoring line featured a teenage star center who was a gifted offensive player but also one of the biggest instigators and dirtiest players of all time: Kenny "the Rat" Linseman. The Rat was a master at stickwork and starting fights that others had to finish while he skated away.
Melrose tells a story about how Birmingham brought a local minister out before this game to say a prayer for the players' safety. Well, the Stingers were going to need all the Divine intervention they could get in a building where fans in the stands literally sang "Dixie" at the games and waved Confederate rebel flags.
For the first shift of the game, Jacques sent out his team's small skill guys like Ftorek, Del Hall and Hislop. Birmingham sent out their fighters, with instructions from their coach, Glen Sonmor, to send an immediate message.
The Bulls players immediately jumped and beat the crap out of the Stingers on the ice. For some reason, Birmingham ended up with a power play out of the line brawl. From the bench, Dudley threatened to kill referee Peter Moffat and Demers threw a stick on the ice aimed at Moffat. When the first attempted javelin toss missed badly, Demers threw another. When that one missed, he tossed a third stick and completed the hat trick.
Not too long after the Bulls beat the tar -- or, as we say in Boston, tah -- out of the Stingers, Cincinnati signed me to a tryout contract. I dressed for a game against Indianapolis. I didn't get a shift, however.
The next night, the Stingers had a return trip to Birmingham. Now, I'd seen and fought against some of the Bulls' guys when I was in the NAHL with the Binghamtom Dusters and I'd had a two-game WHA tryout a couple years earlier with the Edmonton Oilers. So I knew full well what to expect.
During the warmups, I locked eyes with a couple of the Birmingham players and someone started trash talking me about how I was going to be the next one to get beaten to a pulp. I said, "You know where to find me." I was ready in case something started right then and there but it didn't; at least not til the game began.
My first shift of my first game against the Bulls, I fought Frank Beaton. Next time I hit the ice, I went with Jim Turkiewicz. Then I dropped 'em with Bilodeau.
Some time around Christmas or New Years, we were in Hartford to play against the Whalers. Before the game, I talked with Whalers general manager Jack Kelley, who was someone who always good to me. He told me that his team had signed Jack Carlson (an inspiration for one of the three Hanson brothers in Slap Shot) and that he's the one guy I should probably avoid fighting.
I actually managed to score a goal in the game -- my only one of the season and the first of three I had during my time with Cincy. Demers soon put me back on the ice. No, I didn't think I'd suddenly become a sniper. I'm sure you know that old saying about crushers, rushers and ushers.
Hartford coach Harry Neale sent out Carlson on my next shift. As soon as the puck dropped, so did our gloves.
Jack and I slugged it out in what might have been the longest fight of my playing career. It wasn't one of those wrestle-and-hold fights, either. We were tagging each other. When it was finally over, referee Bill Friday came over to us and told us it was the best fight he'd ever seen. That meant a lot to me.
I was feeling pretty good about myself as I skated to the penalty box, physically tired but mentally exhilarated after the long fight. Then I heard Jack Carlson calling to me from the Whalers' box. He already wanted to fight again, right on the spot!
I was glad to have five minutes to catch my breath and recharge my batteries. That was more than enough time. As soon as Carlson and I stepped out of the box, we dropped our sticks and gloves and started round two. That one wasn't quite as epic as the first tussle but it was still another pretty active and lengthy fight.
Those two fights with Carlson were pretty big for me. I gained respect from Jack and around the league as someone who would go with anyone. Cincinnati converted my tryout contract into a full-season deal that paid me $25,000 for the rest of the season -- not bad money in those days -- and also gave me $1,000 in cash on the spot to pay the rent and buy some nice last-minute Christmas presents.
The best team in the league at the time was the Winnipeg Jets. They dominated in the regular season and won the Avco Cup -- named for the aviation defense contracting company that sponsored it -- in 1977-78. Their team was led by Bobby Hull and a half dozen high-skill Swedish imports (Anders Hedberg, Ulf Nilsson, Kent Nilsson, Willy Lindstrom, Thommie Bergman and Lars-Erik Sjoberg).
One thing that Jets team did not have much of was toughness. Defenseman Kim Clackson had to supply pretty much all of it, and he did almost all the fighting on that team.
For me, a Cincinnati-Winnipeg game usually meant I wasn't going to be too busy that night. Demers put me out there one game and I went with Clackson a few seconds into my first shift. Can you guess how many shifts I skated against Winnipeg the rest of the season?
Yup, that would be a grand total of zero.
After my one glorious and historic appearance against Winnipeg, Jacques kept me on the end of the bench. I used to look over at Clackson on the other bench and we'd wave to each other.
Fast forward a tad to 1979-80; I'm playing for the Quebec Nordiques in my one and only (partial) season in the NHL. Once again, Jacques Demers was my coach and once again Robbie Ftorek was one of my teammates. Paul Baxter was the main guy who dropped the gloves for a team that had lots of French-Canadian skill players on it like Michel Goulet, Real Cloutier and Marc Tardif. I was brought to Quebec for the same reason I was brought to all of my other teams.
I played at least one shift in 21 games for the Nordiques. I managed to score a pair of goals, including a top-shelf beauty (or, in less poetic terms, a puck that barely trickled over the goal line) for my first goal in the NHL. But the most memorable part of my brief NHL career was when I got to do the job I was being paid to do.
One of the games I played for the Nordiques was on Nov. 22, 1979 in my hometown of Boston. First, I jousted with Wayne Cashman during the warmup. Then I dropped the gloves with the legendary Terry O'Reilly. Next, I fought Stan Jonathan, who bloodied me in a spirited tilt. Finally, I went with Al Secord and received an automatic game misconduct for my third fight of the game. Referee Dave Newell, later a colleague of mine, escorted me off the ice.
I will never forget the final NHL game in which I dressed. Demers kept me in my familiar spot at the far end of the bench. The first period went by. No shifts. The second period went by. No shifts. The first 19:54 of the third period goes by. No shifts. With six seconds left in the game, there's a stoppage of play.
Demers said to me, "Stewy, go out for this last shift."
I said, "I can't."
Demers gave me a puzzled look. "It helps your pension someday. Go out there."
"Jacques, I'd love to," I said. "But I don't have my skates on anymore!"
Since I hadn't played all night and figured I wasn't getting in the game, I had taken off my skates and sat at the end of the bench in my hockey socks.
By 1981-82, I was back in Cape Cod, playing for the Cape Cod Buccaneers of the ACHL. The team was owned by soon-to-be pro wrestling mogul Vince McMahon Jr.
"Hey, aren't you one of the Buccaneers?" someone asked me once as I was recognized at a hockey clinic.
"Buccin'-A right I am!" I said.
Alas, I was only a Buccaneer for five games; not even enough to become a true swashbuckler. In 1983, I enrolled in Bruce Hood's referee training program and started my officiating career.
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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born person to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the only American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.
Today, Stewart is a judicial 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, while also maintaining 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. 
Blogger •Former NHL Referee • 
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