"It's who I am; I've never aspired to be middle-of-the-road," Schilling explains. "I've always tried to be great. If you fall short of great, sometimes you're still pretty good."

The Exception to the Rule
Schilling's career is an aberration from the typical path of a professional pitcher. Most good pitchers find themselves riding a wave of success for only a certain period of time, usually in the prime of their career. Then they find their production slowly dropping as their bodies give way to injury and old age. Hall of Fame pitchers Tom Seaver and Jim Palmer found themselves slipping in the end. Even the great Bob Gibson had a losing record the last two years of his career.

Not Schilling. His prime is in the latter stage of his career. Barring his injury-plagued season in 2005, he's been one of the most dominant pitchers in the game. There has been no fall, or career twilight, as of yet - just a steady increase in production.

"I think modern medicine is obviously a key component for all of us," he says. "Guys are getting smarter about taking care of themselves, and medicine is helping them stay healthy longer."

But the medicine doesn't account for the numbers Schilling's been putting up for the last decade. And the numbers, though good, don't tell the whole story. They are the type of numbers that Hall of Fame voters demand, but not the type that will rival Ryan's strikeout total or Clemens's number of wins. But one cannot quantify what Schilling has done in the postseason. One cannot measure his influence on his teammates.