Schilling deserves Hall of Fame
It seems fitting that a player who's history of drama would go out not riding a spectacular final season, but on the grumblings from a blog he posted with controversial comments about Kobe Bryant playing in the NBA Finals in Boston.
Curt Schilling, one of the greatest pitchers of his generation, made as many headlines by his behavior off the field and on the mound as he did with eye-popping career numbers. Hopefully his penchant for drama will not be held against him when it comes time to vote for the Hall of Fame, a place he deserves to be.
But once you get past his colorful history of telling it like it is, battling back to pitch with a bloodied sock and his storybook turn from bad boy to team leader, it's hard to deny Schilling's greatness.
Over the first century of baseball, players lobbying for entry into the Hall of Fame had numerical benchmarks that seemed necessary for enshrinement. For pitchers, the magic number has always been 300 wins. Schilling's career, if it indeed ended over the weekend, may not be the numerical feat that some other pitchers achieved, but there is no doubting his place in history.
As we enter the 21st century, it becomes harder and harder to hold modern players up to old numbers that were the standard bearer of Hall induction. With the advent of 5-pitcher rotations and the development of middle inning guys, we may never see another pitcher reach the magical number of 300.
With that said, we must look at two of the best metrics by which pitchers can always be judged. How did he measure up to pitchers of his era and what did he do when everything was on the line?
In 1992, Schilling moved into the starting rotation of a Phillies team that would play in the World Series, one of the teams on which he played that made it to the Fall Classic.
Since that time, Schilling pitched an astounding 83 complete games, with 10 in his first season as a starter. His highest total in that category was a ridiculous 15 in 1998. That's almost half of his starts for that season, and over his career he completed almost 20 percent of the games he started. That is unfathomable.
And he did it as a power pitcher. The precise and methodical Greg Maddux only threw 76 during that time. No other pitcher came with 25 CGs of Schilling's feat. There must be recognition of this fact when measuring a Hall of Famer. When you can hand the ball to your ace and get him to carry you for 9 innings 20 percent of the time, while winning 60 percent of the time, you have a golden goose that would be the envy of any team in the modern era.
And he did not necessarily always rely on a barrage of run support to get those wins. He did not just go out and groove fastballs and hope they stayed in the park. He overpowered hitters and kept his run totals down.
Pedro Martinez, widely considered the best pitcher of his generation, was the only pitcher with a strikeout percentage than Schilling's (8.59K/9 innings), and nobody had a better strikeout to walk ratio. Nobody. In fact, Schilling's strikeout to walk ratio (4.38/1) is better than any pitcher in the modern era.
Beyond carrying his teams during the regular season and compiling jaw-dropping strikeout and WHIP numbers, Schilling was quite simply one of the best on the game's biggest stages. Something you can't say for Maddux or Roger Clemens. In winning three World Series with two teams, Schilling started 19 postseason games, in which he averaged seven innings per game. That is unheard of. That means on average he kept from ever getting run early in any postseason appearance. And that's going up against the best teams in baseball.
In those 19 games, Schilling went 11-2 with a 2.33 ERA. Only one pitcher in the history of the game with over 100 innings pitched in the postseason has had a better ERA in the playoffs, and nobody has matched his winning percentage.
Say what you want about Schilling being in love with the spotlight or his own image. Say what you want about him being a little too loose with his mouth and getting carried away. Say what you want about the drama off the field. But, barring a bloody sock, there was hardly any drama when he was on the field, especially in the postseason. It was almost always ho-hum, seven innings and a win. And hardly anyone in the history of the game can say that.
His numbers may not stack up against the greats of history, but there can hardly be any doubt that the man deserves to be enshrined in Cooperstown. Now that should be a dramatic day.
Curt Schilling, one of the greatest pitchers of his generation, made as many headlines by his behavior off the field and on the mound as he did with eye-popping career numbers. Hopefully his penchant for drama will not be held against him when it comes time to vote for the Hall of Fame, a place he deserves to be.
But once you get past his colorful history of telling it like it is, battling back to pitch with a bloodied sock and his storybook turn from bad boy to team leader, it's hard to deny Schilling's greatness.
Over the first century of baseball, players lobbying for entry into the Hall of Fame had numerical benchmarks that seemed necessary for enshrinement. For pitchers, the magic number has always been 300 wins. Schilling's career, if it indeed ended over the weekend, may not be the numerical feat that some other pitchers achieved, but there is no doubting his place in history.
As we enter the 21st century, it becomes harder and harder to hold modern players up to old numbers that were the standard bearer of Hall induction. With the advent of 5-pitcher rotations and the development of middle inning guys, we may never see another pitcher reach the magical number of 300.
With that said, we must look at two of the best metrics by which pitchers can always be judged. How did he measure up to pitchers of his era and what did he do when everything was on the line?
In 1992, Schilling moved into the starting rotation of a Phillies team that would play in the World Series, one of the teams on which he played that made it to the Fall Classic.
Since that time, Schilling pitched an astounding 83 complete games, with 10 in his first season as a starter. His highest total in that category was a ridiculous 15 in 1998. That's almost half of his starts for that season, and over his career he completed almost 20 percent of the games he started. That is unfathomable.
And he did it as a power pitcher. The precise and methodical Greg Maddux only threw 76 during that time. No other pitcher came with 25 CGs of Schilling's feat. There must be recognition of this fact when measuring a Hall of Famer. When you can hand the ball to your ace and get him to carry you for 9 innings 20 percent of the time, while winning 60 percent of the time, you have a golden goose that would be the envy of any team in the modern era.
And he did not necessarily always rely on a barrage of run support to get those wins. He did not just go out and groove fastballs and hope they stayed in the park. He overpowered hitters and kept his run totals down.
Pedro Martinez, widely considered the best pitcher of his generation, was the only pitcher with a strikeout percentage than Schilling's (8.59K/9 innings), and nobody had a better strikeout to walk ratio. Nobody. In fact, Schilling's strikeout to walk ratio (4.38/1) is better than any pitcher in the modern era.
Beyond carrying his teams during the regular season and compiling jaw-dropping strikeout and WHIP numbers, Schilling was quite simply one of the best on the game's biggest stages. Something you can't say for Maddux or Roger Clemens. In winning three World Series with two teams, Schilling started 19 postseason games, in which he averaged seven innings per game. That is unheard of. That means on average he kept from ever getting run early in any postseason appearance. And that's going up against the best teams in baseball.
In those 19 games, Schilling went 11-2 with a 2.33 ERA. Only one pitcher in the history of the game with over 100 innings pitched in the postseason has had a better ERA in the playoffs, and nobody has matched his winning percentage.
Say what you want about Schilling being in love with the spotlight or his own image. Say what you want about him being a little too loose with his mouth and getting carried away. Say what you want about the drama off the field. But, barring a bloody sock, there was hardly any drama when he was on the field, especially in the postseason. It was almost always ho-hum, seven innings and a win. And hardly anyone in the history of the game can say that.
His numbers may not stack up against the greats of history, but there can hardly be any doubt that the man deserves to be enshrined in Cooperstown. Now that should be a dramatic day.
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