Curt the Curse Killer

Now we can remember the Curt Schilling who blazed the trail to the World Series.  The rumors of comebacks, the feuding over contracts, and the spluttering of blogs are over, and the greatness of Schilling can rear its dauntless head.
“I think it was the right time in his career,” Francona said. “Boston
was looking for that last piece. He was looking for a way to pitch on a
championship team. It was a great fit. Obviously, it worked out well.
The stage was perfect for him. He was looking not to back away and go
somewhere where he could just pitch innings and get wins. He wanted to
pitch where he had a chance to win a championship.”

That’s the Curt Schilling story I want to remember, the bloody sock and big-game mentality, the tireless charting of hitters and the pinpoint control, the team mate and the role-player, the worthy opponent. It’s almost hard to recall the Red Sox before Schilling, but it’s safe to say they were never the same team after he joined them.  He might have pitched only one in five days, but he was in every game and kept his team in every game. So say Ortiz and Varitek. 
Let’s forget the rumblings out of Curt’s blog or the wounded years that delayed the final verdict.  Few of us get to retire with grace. Too many of us wish for early retirement. Not Schilling. He kept chugging on a half-empty tank, thinking he could retire hitters by force of will.
So thanks to Curt, the Curse-Killer.  Now we know there was nothing to that silly curse, but it took the brazen confidence of Curt, the courage of Curt, the cameraderie of Curt to put that silly curse in the ground.  Whether that’s a Hall of Fame credential or not, history will have to decide. But the Red Sox story will always be divided BC and AC– Before Curt and After the Curse.


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