76 AMERICANWAY
MAY 15 2007
S T A F F A C E
Hewrotehis legacyona coldOctobernight
in the Bronx. Sporting a bloody sock that
will forever be tattooedon the heart ofRed
Sox Nation, he willed himself through the
most formidable lineup in baseball and
lifted a groupof self-proclaimed idiots over
the “evil empire” of theNewYork Yankees.
He was themissing piece, the unifying cog
inBoston’squest toendan86-yearbaseball
curse.
Had Curt Schilling never set foot on the
mound again, no one would have blamed
him. The six-time all-star had reached the
pinnacle of success for one of the most
storied teams in professional sports. The
countless hours of rehab he faced in the
off-season, the lingering remnants from
themost famous ankle injury in sports his-
tory, and the struggle to regainhis pitching
form under the constant scrutiny of the
Bostonmedia would have been enough to
makemost players want towalk away. But
Schillingdoesnotdefinehimself by the sta-
tus quo. He is driven to be great, obsessed
with perfecting his craft. And that is why,
three years removed frombringingaWorld
Series victory to a city known for its almost
unhealthy devotion to its beloved baseball
team, at 40 years old, he is pressing on,
playinghis19thyear inMajorLeagueBase-
ball and his fourth season as the ace on a
Red Sox pitching staff loaded with young
talent.
Schilling joins a group of 40-year-old
pitchers who defy the laws of aging and
thrive, even as their contemporaries retire,
get released, or are felledby injury. Pitchers
like Roger Clemens (who Schilling admit-
tedlywould like toseecomeback toBoston)
and Randy Johnson dominate hitters half
their age at a time when baseballs are sail-
ingout of theballparkat analarming rate.
Sure, we’ve seenpitchers in their 40s ex-
cel before: NolanRyan pitched a no-hitter
whenhewas44;42-year-oldWarrenSpahn
won23games.Butnever in themodernera
have dominant 40-year-old pitchers been
so prevalent, with Clemens, Johnson (Dia-
mondbacks), Greg Maddux (Padres), Tom
Glavine (Mets), andKennyRogers (Tigers)
leading the chargeof theAARPbrigade.
“You think it gets easier as you get older,
but it doesn’t,” says Schilling, who notched
his3,000th career strikeout and200thwin
lastyear,boostinghiscareerwin-lossrecord
to 207–138. “Approachwise, it’s amatter of
refining things, year inand year out.”
Schilling’s approach is that of a profes-
sional student. There was no epiphany
or life-altering moment when everything
clicked, no specific event when the game
sloweddown, as athletes often say. Instead,
itwasa seriesof small, andat times tedious,
steps.Aprocessof listening to therightpeo-
pleand compiling the right information.
“Getting to sit down and talkwithRoger
Clemens and being with Johnny Podres
(who was my first pitching coach), Kevin
Jordan, LennyDykstra, and JasonVaritek,”
Schilling says. “It just kindof happened.”
Heabsorbsanypieceof adviceor statisti-
cal data thatwill givehimanedge.He takes
thousandsofnotesdissectinghisopponent’s
strengths andweaknesses. Watch Schilling
in the dugout after coming off themound.
Watch how he studies page after page of
notes of the upcoming batters he will face
next inning. He cannot settle. He doesn’t
know how— not even at 40, when most
athletes arewindingdown their careers.
“It’s who I am; I’ve never aspired to be
middle-of-the-road,” Schilling explains.
“I’vealways tried tobegreat. Ifyou fall short
of great, sometimes you’re still prettygood.”
TheException to theRule
Schilling’s career is an aberration from the
typical path of a professional pitcher.Most
goodpitchersfind themselves ridingawave
of success for only a certain period of time,
usually in the prime of their career. Then
they find their production slowly dropping
as their bodies give way to injury and old
age. Hall of Fame pitchers Tom Seaver and
JimPalmerfoundthemselvesslipping inthe
end.Even thegreatBobGibsonhada losing
record the last two years of his career.
Not Schilling. His prime is in the lat-
ter stage of his career. Barring his injury-
plaguedseason in2005,he’sbeenoneof the
most dominant pitchers in thegame. There
has beenno fall, or career twilight, as of yet
— just a steady increase inproduction.
“I thinkmodernmedicine is obviously a
key component for all of us,” he says. “Guys
are getting smarter about taking care of
themselves, and medicine is helping them
stayhealthy longer.”
But themedicine doesn’t account for the
numbers Schilling’s beenputting up for the
lastdecade.And thenumbers, thoughgood,
don’t tell thewhole story. They are the type
of numbers that Hall of Fame voters de-
mand, but not the type thatwill rivalRyan’s
strikeout total orClemens’snumberofwins.
But one cannot quantifywhat Schilling has
done in the postseason. One cannot mea-
surehis influenceonhis teammates.
At 40, Schilling balances dual roles for
theRedSox:He’s thepitchingaceaswell as
thementor foraRedSoxstaff thathas load-
eduponyoungarmsover thepast coupleof
years. It’s no coincidence that JoshBeckett
sat next to Schilling nearly every game last
season inwhich the twowere not pitching.
The26-year-oldhard-throwingright-hand-
er relishedSchilling’s friendshipand soaked
upanyadvice the veteranhad tooffer.
“Josh and I became friends pretty fast,”
Schilling says. “Youdon’t everwant to jump
on people until they’re ready, until they
openup towhat theyneed.”
Beckett struggled inhis first seasonwith
the Red Sox. There were flashes of bril-
liance, but he committed the cardinal sin in
the American League East, baseball’smost
unforgiving division: He lost control of his
pitches.
At40,Schillingbalancesdual
roles for theRedSox:He’s the
pitchingaceaswellas themen-
tor foraRedSoxstaff thathas
loadeduponyoungarms.
