SMALLS TALK: Schilling's Bloody Sock

 

Say what you want about Curt Schilling. Outspoken. Fat. Aggressive republican. He's not the most popular public figure in sports, but he did have one hell of a career: one that will be remembered for- and arguably epitomized by- one moment: the Bloody Sock.

2004 ALCS, Game 6. Facing their hated rivals en route to the biggest comeback in sports history. A key part of bringing a city its first World Series title in 86 years. All storybook stuff, but in my opinion, the best part about the entire bloody sock moment is that nobody else could have had it. Not Pedro, not Derek Lowe, not Manny, nobody.  And it's not because they're not tough or because they wouldn't have played- it's because they don't have the same style.

Schilling was a part of the 5% (if that) of Big Leaguers who wear stirrups as opposed to colored socks. What's even more rare is that Schilling is one of maybe two guys this century to sport elastic-bottomed 'tweeners, pants that hang out just above the ankle. The majority of MLB players wear their pant bottoms low enough to cover the tops of their cleats, but not Schilling. He has just enough white showing for the whole world to see his stitches had busted open, he was bleeding, he was in pain, and yep, he was still gonna pitch. The Bloody Sock is an image that has come to embody toughness and perseverance, and if Curt Schilling wore his pants and socks like everybody else in the league, the world would never know this legacy.

Sure, Curt would have ranted and raved in the press conference about how much he was hurting, but would we have believed him? Curt's a blow-hard, and him detailing what went on under his pant legs or explaining how he was bleeding but the blood blended in with his red socks doesn't have the same effect as "Holy shit, is that blood on his sock? That's badass."

Which brings me to my final point: Curt Schilling has been preparing for that moment, his career-defining image, ever since Rookie Ball when the clubbie asked him "socks or stirrups?" Just like Squints, Curt had been planning this for years. He knew what he was doing, and his rare choice to go stirrups with tweeners doesn't go overlooked by this blogger.

SMALLS TALK: Red Sox Nation Goes Crazy, JD Drew Can't Be Bothered



There goes the RBI chance, thanks man. (FULL VIDEO HERE)

 This is classic JD Drew. April 2009, nationally televised game, sold out Fenway Park, hated rivals in the visiting dugout, 2-1 game, 2 outs, bases loaded: Pettitte starts his windup and Jacoby Ellsbury takes off for home like Benny the Jet! "He's stealing home, I don't believe it! He's stealing home! He's stealing home and they don't see him! I don't believe it!" Pettitte spots him, hurries the pitch, Posada reaches for the tag, and he's... SAFE! Fenway erupts, Bay poops his pants in the on-deck circle, Francona has a heart attack, and Jacoby runs into the arms of his teammates waiting in a jacked-up dugout. What a momentum swing, what a risk, what a play! I'm literally sweating as I write this.

Arguably the most exciting play in all of sports, and JD Drew's bat never left his shoulder. He didn't say anything, he barely got out of the box- he simply didn't react at all. In fact, I think I even saw him mouth to the riotous crowd "Shhh keep it down, I'm trying to hit here." Can we get a pulse check over here?

JD Drew reminds me of that high school kid who hates baseball, and hates even more the fact that he's good at it. The kid whose dad had him taking 500 swings a day since he was three years old. In tee-ball he was focusing on staying inside the ball and back-spinning line drives as opposed to what flavor slushie he was gonna get at the snack stand after. He had a batting cage in the backyard and played on three different travel teams at the same time. He'd hop into the car after going 4 for 5 and his dad would sternly ask him about the flyout he hit in the 3rd. The kid who's treated baseball as a full-time job since middle school, and that's what I think it is to JD- a job.

While his teammates are hootin' and hollerin' in the dugout about the play that brought 38,000 fans to their feet, JD is back in the box racking his brain trying to remember what pitch Pettitte threw him the last time the two saw a 1-1 count. Sure you can say he's the consummate professional, but that's bullshit. Play with some emotion, some passion. Now I understand that he was still up and it was still a big spot with runners on first and second, runs that truly mattered, and I guess if he went wild celebrating Pettitte could have plunked him- but to load the bases again? I doubt it. What I do know is that the guy who used to wear number 7 and play Right Field for the Sox would have jumped on Jacoby like it was Game 7. His reaction would have made the screaming fans look tame. He was a team-first guy who never let anyone question his passion for the game. But that was Trot, and this is JD. Boring, emotionless, uninterested, dead-inside JD.