Schilling shined in October spotlight

Curt Schilling understood it the first time he pitched in October. He was exactly where he belonged. He was home. I realized how quickly everything was different," Schilling said. "Every out. Every pitch. And I loved it. I loved the thought that you literally had to shoot for perfection. I was around guys and have been around guys who kind of went the other direction when that was the expectation. Theres nothing like it. Its the atmosphere. The energy. You are the only game. Everything you work for as a team comes down to pitches, such small moments. Its almost like you prepare your whole life to be in a situation like that. It is hard to imagine a pitcher better wired for the postseason. He embraced it, and it empowered him. I thought it was as chance to change what people thought of you forever in a night, Schilling said. Schilling did that several times over in his 19 postseason starts, in which he was 11-2 with a 2.33 ERA. He struck out the first five batters he faced in his first playoff start against Atlanta in 1993, a stretch that seemed to inexorably turn the momentum of that series toward his Philadelphia Phillies. He was co-MVP when his hometown Diamondbacks won the 2001 World Series, riding what he considers his best 48 innings of the season. That was the prelude. Nothing was more memorable than the red sock that lifted Red Sox nation in Game 6 of the 2004 American League Championship Series against the New York Yankees. Pitching despite inflammation of his peroneal tendons on the outside of his right ankle that required 55 stitches to repair, Schilling threw the game of his life, giving up one run on four hits in seven innings in a 2-1 , must-win victory at Yankee Stadium as Boston evened the series after losing the first three games. Schilling had played a part in digging the hole after getting cuffed around in Game 1, but he was more than ready for his second chance. He did not give up a hit until the third inning, got out of a first-and-second, nobody-on situation the fourth, and did not give up a run until Bernie Williams hit a solo home run in the seventh with the Red Sox holding a 4-0 lead. All the while, the wound seeped blood, turning his sanitary sock from blush to beet red. The sock was donated to the Hall of Fame. That was as much of a symbol and a message and a statement about who I was playing with and who I was playing for. I was playing for 24 guys who I felt would have done the same thing, and we were playing for Red Sox Nation, Schilling said, looking back. That was the game I was brought here to pitch. First it was Game 1, and I got my butt kicked (in a 10-7 loss). To get a chance to pitch Game 6 I promise you of the tens of thousands of people in that ballpark and the 50 ballplayers and how many millions of people who were watching the game, nobody was calmer than I was that night. As soon as I knew I could pitch, everything because very easy for me, because I had a chance, and thats what I wanted. I was going to be able to compete, and in my mind there was nobody who could beat me. I always felt that way in October. Pressure? Like mystique and aura, just another word. And, as in Schillings postseason appearances, appearing nightly. In a sense, I guess I did let it get to me, because I was able to do things that I never could do during the season," he said. "I just performed. My stuff and my concentration and focus were at a level that I could not ever find during the regular season. Schillings teams were 5-0 in his five win-or-go-home starts, starting with Philadelphias 4-3 victory over Atlanta in Game 5 of the 1993 NLCS. He did it twice with the D-backs in 2001: A complete game 2-1 victory over St. Louis in Game 5 of the NLDS and then a 3-2, walkoff victory over the New York Yankees in Game 7 of the World Series. After 2004, he did it again in a 4-2 victory over Cleveland in Game 6 of the 2007 ALCS as the Red Sox went on to their second World Series title in four seasons under manager Terry Francona. An October guy, it has to be every time out. You are playing a best of five, a best of seven. You cannot afford a bad game, Schilling said. People always want to figure out if a guy can or cant. For a pitcher, anyway, its two games. Two games is kind of your litmus test. In that first game, you can do exceptionally well or exceptionally bad, but after that first time you pitch in October, you know what it is like. After that first game, it really tells you what a guy is made of. It has to be almost perfection every time out.