There’s a lot about Curt Schilling that I really like. He was a member of my absolute favorite team, the 1993 Phillies (Team Fat Guy).  He was a key contributor to the demise of the last Yankee dynasty. And when he joined the Boston Red Sox prior to the 2004 season, he brought a culture change with him that led to the best sports story of this decade .

There’s a lot about Schilling that I don’t really care for. The guy loves to hear himself speak. And speak. And speak. And speak. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the center of attention, trust me, but this guy takes self-importance to another level.

The best example, of course (and one I’ve referenced before), is St. Patrick’s Day 2005, when Congress called a rogues gallery of (alleged) steroid using ballplayers to testify before them. Schilling was not subpoenaed, but that was a spotlight he couldn’t miss, so he invited himself along.

I have great respect for candor, but quite often Schilling would give his opinions to the press at the expense of his teammates. His first week at Red Sox spring training, he made a point of lecturing Manny Ramirez about dependability right in front of a couple Red Sox beat writers.

My overwhelming memory of Schilling in the ’93 playoffs is him writhing in agony – perfectly positioned in front of the CBS dugout camera – as he watched Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams struggle through another ugly but successful save. Yeah, we all wondered if this was going to be the night that Mitch would blow it for the Phillies, and truth be told he eventually did, but Schilling showed himself to be the greatest drama queen since Jerry Tarkanian, covering his head with a towel, biting his finger nails, and staring daggers at the mound every time Williams went to a three ball count.

It’s not that he was a diva, or that the things he said weren’t true. Or that they weren’t necessary. You just got the feeling that he thought of himself as Baseball’s B.S. police and its moral compass. Please. You aren’t the pope. You’re a pitcher.

But, man, what a great pitcher he was.

So, I have to take real exception to Andy’s assertion that he’s not a Hall Of Famer. It seems that the arguments against him are this – 216 wins, no Cy Young awards, and his numbers aren’t as good as Bert Blyleven’s.

Let’s work backwards on these arguments. No, his numbers aren’t as good as Bert’s. Fewer wins, fewer strikeouts and nowhere close on complete games and shutouts.

So?

Keeping Bert Blyleven out of the Hall of Fame is an absolute, flat out abject travesty. Schilling’s numbers and credentials only serve to support the argument that Bert should go in right now and receive a letter of apology from every baseball writer who once voted against him only to change his mind a year or two later.

Schilling never won a Cy Young, but he finished second three times, in 2001, 2002, and 2004. As Jayson Stark pointed out last week, any of those three seasons would have won him the award had it not been for Randy Johnson and Johan Santana pitching out of their minds.

Here are the stats comparisons from those three years, according to Baseball-Reference.com:

2001:
Randy Johnson – 21-6, 2.49 era, 372 K’s (third highest total since 1886), 249.7 IP
Schilling – 22-6, 2.98 era, 293 K’s, 256.7 IP

2002:
Randy Johnson – 24-5, 2.32 era, 334 K’s, 260.0 IP
Schilling – 23-7, 3.23 era, 316 K’s, 259.3 IP

2004:
Johan Santana – 20-6, 2.61 era, 265 K’s, 228 IP
Schilling – 21-6, 3.26 era, 203 K’s, 226.3 IP

(Author’s Note: Thank God for Baseball-Reference.com. Next to Brushback, it’s the greatest baseball site on the web. Go check out their redesign, which is in Beta right now. It’s fantastic.)

That 316 strikeout season in ’02 is his second highest total. He had 319 strikeouts in 1997, and just for good measure, he had 300 in 1998. Every other pitcher since 1900 with multiple 300 strikeout seasons is in the Hall (except for Johnson and Pedro, who we can assume are first ballot guys).

Yes, his win total is low. But 216 wins is more than Hall of Famers Bob Lemon and Don Drysdale. Also, like Blyleven, he is the victim of playing on some pretty bad teams. From 1994-1999, he played for Phillies teams that had win totals of 54, 69, 67, 68, 75 and 77, and never ranked higher than 8th in the national League in runs scored, and usually was last or second-to-last.

So, please, keep some of those numbers in perspective. And then go look at his postseason numbers, which are absolutely ridiculous.

And then remember that even if he faked the bloody sock in 2004 (which he didn’t, but just to play along), he still had a loose tendon in his ankle stitched to his bone. Twice.
And if he was just an OK regular season pitcher, then how is it he was a six time all star?
And finally keep in mind that, say what you will about the guy, he brought more personality and intrigue to the game than 98 percent of the players of his time. I’ll take a mildly annoying media hog like Curt Schilling over a polished, respectful and kind of boring guy like Derek Jeter any day of the week.

Don’t mention his name in the same sentence as Kenny Rogers. Or David Wells. And don’t try to tell me that Curt Schilling wasn’t one of the ten best pitchers of his day. Put him in the Hall.

Right after Bert.