Alan Truex: Political incorrectness barring Schilling from the Hall
Big-leaguers rarely talk about a future in the Hall of Fame. One who did express avid interest, ironically enough, was Pete Rose. I was struck by how accommodating he was to all sportswriters, even those from backwaters. He explained: “You never know who’s going to be voting for the Hall of Fame some day. I want to be unanimous.”
Had he not bet on baseball, the all-time Hit King might have been a first-ballot, every-ballot inductee into Cooperstown. But because of violating one of the most sacred of baseball rules he’s been banned like the Black Sox.
Rose is perhaps the most blatant example of exclusion because of flawed character.
Curt Schilling is a more recent example.
Schilling was unquestionably one of the most dominant pitchers of his era, along with Randy Johnson, Greg Maddux and Mike Mussina, who are in the Hall, and Roger Clemens, who is not, because of character issues.
Schilling’s regular-season totals (216-146, 3.46 ERA) fall a bit short of Maddux (355-277, 3.16), Johnson (303-166, 3.29) and Mussina (270-153, 3.68). But Schilling is in a class by himself in postseason performance: 11-2, 2.23 ERA.
He’s most famous for the “Bloody Sock” of 2004. With his Boston Red Sox facing elimination in Game 6 of the American League Championship Series, Schilling faced the Yankees with a torn ankle tendon that was stitched not quite tightly enough.
He proceeded to pitch 7 innings, allowing one run, and Boston went on to win the pennant. In the World Series he again threw 7 innings of 1-run ball with blood seeping through his sock. Boston swept St. Louis in the Series.
There would be no question about Schilling deserving a plaque in Cooperstown if not for his behavior off the baseball field.
He alienated Philadelphia Phillies teammates when he sat in the dugout and buried his head in a towel rather than watch closer Mitch Williams unravel in the 1993 World Series.
More unsettling were some forays into social media after his retirement from baseball. He posted offensive messages regarding Muslims, transgender people and journalists, and he argued in favor of creationism vs. evolution. He was fired by ESPN for expressing far-right positions.
So for the journalists who are Hall of Fame voters, the question becomes whether character flaws are egregious enough to offset a career of athletic brilliance.
I first met Schilling in 1991 when he pitched for the Astros and I covered them for the Houston Chronicle.
At 24 he was nothing more than an average middle reliever, 3-5 with a 3.81 ERA for 56 games. He was criticized for not being dedicated to conditioning. He threw 98 mph, but he was said to have “bad attitude.”
So the next year the Astros traded him to Philadelphia for Jason Grimsley, who would go on to fashion a 42-58 big-league record with a 4.77 ERA.
The trade drew little media attention. I’ve often wondered why I raised no objection to a swap for a pitcher the same age as Schilling and coming off a 1-7, 4.87.
I do remember talking to Larry Dierker, TV/radio analyst at the time. Dierker, who knows as much about pitching as almost anyone, expressed skepticism: “I don’t like the idea of trading a young pitcher who throws hard and throws strikes. I wish we had tried him as a starter before letting him go.”
Over the years I spoke with Schilling several times and found him gracious and accommodating. On one occasion, when I requested an interview in the Astrodome’s visiting clubhouse, he scoured the premises to procure a chair so I could sit across from him at his locker. No athlete in any sport has ever gone to such effort in my behalf.
Reporters who covered him on a daily basis gave mixed reviews. Some said they will never cast a Hall of Fame ballot for him because he was disliked by teammates.
I do believe there’s something to be said for being a good teammate and for not being a media distraction. Because of the length of season and frequency of games, team chemistry is arguably more important in baseball than in any other team sport. I remember the Astros acquiring Luis Gonzalez and Casey Candaele for their value in the clubhouse more than for on-field production.
I voted against Don Sutton because some of his Houston teammates said he was selfish and unpleasant. They referred to him as “Six and Skip” — eager to get out of games once he had a lead. But if he’d been as dominant a pitcher as Schilling, I would have overlooked Sutton’s prickly personality and said 300 wins, no matter the quality of them, have to put you in the Hall.
In my opinion, some character flaws can be severe enough to cancel out performance no matter how dazzling the stats. As much as I personally like Pete Rose, to bet on your team when you’re the manager is unforgivable.
With other issues, such as steroids, I favor judgment based on whether the offender would have been Hall of Fame-worthy without cheating. To me, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens established those bona fides before they drifted to the dark side.
In the case of Schilling, however, there were no allegations of cheating. And being a member of three World Series champions, he could not have been poison in the clubhouse. His subsequent reprehensible social views and his ignorance of science would not have disqualified him from the White House. Should such political incorrectness keep him out of Cooperstown?
