It’s October baseball (November, actually). The rules go out the window, right? The season is 27 outs from being over … literally, every game.

That’s the mindset I always felt worked for me in October. You do whatever you have to, whenever you have to, to have one more run than the other team.

From a starting pitcher’s standpoint, three days’ rest in October was never an issue, because from the time you’re 5 years old, doing that “World Series” replay in your back yard, it’s the game, the innings, the at-bats you’ve always dreamed about having the ball in your hand for.

I’ve always appreciated the respect pitching on three days’ rest in October got you, but go back to 2001, go to 2004 and beyond, and when you look at anyone pitching on three days’ rest you realize there were far bigger goings-on.

Yes, in 2001 I started three games in nine days, and, to be honest, thanks to masseuse Russell Nua and his therapy I felt better over those 48 innings than at any point in the season. But the far bigger story was an almost 40-year-old, 6-foot-10 pitcher coming in, in relief, the DAY AFTER he pitched seven innings.

In 2004 you had Keith Foulke who pitched in pretty much every single game, in insanely high-leverage innings, the entire month.

At the end of the day short rest is all about the player and his makeup. CC Sabathia? Does anyone question this kid’s desire? Goals? Motivation? After what he did in Milwaukee last year, you can’t. But this year he’s only reinforced that for me. He’s a stud, and he’s an ace. Aces take the ball on three days’ rest and make sure you — the media — understand it’s a non-issue and should be writing about more important stuff.

I always felt the other teams thought that they were going to be getting a “lesser version” of me on three days’ rest. The Yankees said as much after the 2001 World Series. I thought that gave me a huge advantage. Before they could figure out I wasn’t “less,” and didn’t have diminished stuff, we’d be in the third or fourth inning.

I guess for me it comes back to the player. I always felt the need to make sure the manager KNEW I wanted to do it, and ya, I’d put up a fight to get the shot to be able to do it. If as a player you don’t assert this, you leave the manager sitting there in a no-win, really. If he does it, and you don’t do well, it’s his fault for pushing you. If he doesn’t do it, and you lose, it’s not your fault because he didn’t ask. That’s the easy way, I think, and I’ve watched guys take it more than once. Being the “quiet type,” I never could. You may never be there again, and the belief that in October I could not be outpitched, regardless of whether it was true or not, made me push to get the ball in my hands if at all possible.

I mean, it’s the World Series, there are no more games after this, right? Nine innings in October can change the lives of every person in the organization. How cool is it to know that power rests in the ball being in your hands? Scary? Hell, yes. But that’s why it’s so damn fun. On the biggest stage, with the most on the line, let the rest of the world shrink back or cower — me? I’m good with letting it all hang out, and letting the chips fall. I’ve done my work, in the weight room and the video room, now it comes down to execution.

Sitting on the bench before heading to the bullpen to start warming up for Game 7 of the 2001 World Series, I was sitting next to Jeff Matuzas, our bullpen catcher and a good friend. In my head I’d just had a conversation with my Dad, who passed away suddenly when I was 21. I was nervous, scared as hell, really, and I can remember his voice popping into my head.

“What the hell are you afraid of? You’ve worked your ass off, you’re going to go down, get loose, and then you’re going to take the mound in front of billions of people for Game 7 of the World Series against Clemens and the Yankees. All that fluff aside, after the first pitch you are doing what you’ve loved, what you’ve done your whole life. You’ll bust your ass, give it everything you have, and hopefully you win, but at the end of this night you’ll have nothing left to give.”

When I finished the thought I was smiling, sort of laughing at how casual he was about what many consider high-stress situations.

Tooz’ looks at me, he’s literally sweating, “Dude, what the hell! How can you be smiling right now?”

“What? What’s not to smile about, man? I am starting Game 7 of the fricking World Series against Roger Clemens and the New York Yankees? How cool is that?”

He replies, “Schill, I’m the f-ing bullpen catcher and I can’t breathe.”

We laughed, got up, strolled down to the ‘pen and had a hell of a night.

Editor’s Note: On Oct. 19, 2004, Curt Schilling delivered one of the most memorable performances of his career. He allowed one run in seven innings in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS against the Yankees after having a dislocated tendon in his right ankle sutured into place. The Red Sox’ 4-2 win positioned the team for a winner-take-all Game 7 in Yankee Stadium. The Sox won that game, completing an unprecedented comeback from a 3-0 series deficit en route to the franchise’s first World Series title in 86 years. Here, Schilling offers his recollections of his Game 6 performance, five years later.

I knew I was going to start, but had no idea how I was going to pitch. The ankle, after having been sutured the night before, was holding up a lot better than we’d thought. I was surprised at the amount of bleeding that occurred overnight, and I am sure the maids were a bit worried when they changed my sheets that morning.

I didn’t do anything really abnormal in the day leading up to the start. I did a few more windups in my hotel room than normal, to try and push it a bit to make sure it wasn’t going to pop.

The thing I most vividly remember from the hours leading up to the start was hitting the top step in Yankee Stadium. When I went out to pitch Game 1, when I hit the top step to walk to the bullpen, my ankle buckled and the tendon popped out of place. That was the first time I knew I might have a problem.

It was about the 50th time I had faced the Yankees that year, and I knew it would be the last, so I came out of my bullpen having done some things different. Whereas I usually made sure I had fastball command and my split, I worked my ass off in that pen to get a feel for my curveball and slider right off the bat since I wanted to use them for all nine innings, instead of here and there.

In Game 6, there was no specific moment when I knew that I would make it through the game. After pitch one, I never really thought much on it. It held up I think because I never favored it, or at least never felt like I did. In watching some highlights I do notice I limped, but I never thought I was limping.

I only realized the ankle was bleeding for one reason. I received multiple Marcaine injections from April on, each start, and as the season wore on I started needing to get in-game injections as well. This game I needed to have it done again, and the Marcaine made the outer half of my foot numb (which was a whole other problem).

In doing so it made me feel as though my shoe wasn’t on right, so I kept pressing down on the bottom of my shoe to move my foot side to side to try and “feel” as if my foot was firmly in my shoe. That’s how I noticed, in about the fifth or sixth inning, that the sole of my shoe and my sock were soaked with blood. You ever walk in the rain in your socks? That’s how it felt. Problem was that it was cold out, too, so that made the blood cold and I could feel it on half my foot.

In looking back on it, the main thing I take away from that game was my mental ability to overcome anything. I got past the ankle pain and into a state of mind that had me completely focused on the game.

I probably did more damage to the ankle than I would have liked. When they opened my ankle up after the season they told me that my peroneal tendon, in addition to being dislocated, was split, lengthwise, for about five inches and wedged over the ankle bone. In a way that was a good thing because it sort of locked itself down.

I made it through seven innings, and when I was done, I sat on the bench. I’ve often talked about the spiritual experience that entire two-week period was, and after I came out of this game it really hit me hard.

I had prayed hard, never once to “win” but just to be able to compete. I couldn’t do that in Game 1 because in a spiritual and physical sense I had tried to “go it alone.” Before Game 2 I had prayed with Mike Timlin and Tim Wakefield, and I prayed ONLY for the ability to compete. I prayed for that with the belief that with the eight guys playing behind me, and my ability to pitch, I could beat them on one foot if I could just compete.

Looking back on it five years later, it was a much more meaningful event from a faith and spiritual standpoint than from a performance standpoint. I am proud of what we did that night, but I am far more excited about what I was able to experience in my relationship with Christ that night. I knew, postgame, when I started the press conference off by thanking the Lord and the entire media contingent rolled its eyes, how they were going to report it. Whatever they did, I knew they couldn’t come close to conveying what I had experienced.

My lasting memory of that game — more than anything that happened while I was on the mound — is of Keith Foulke. Every memory I have of that postseason has Keith in it. He pitched every stinking game and dominated, on fumes.

You know how you handle building a team to win at home and on the road that plays in Fenway? No different than you do the San Diego Padres. Good hitters hit regardless of the ballpark. The same is true of good pitchers.

You build your team to win at home and on the road by having strength and depth in your pitching staff. Yes, you need a deep offense, and the Sox have that. But you shore up offensive weaknesses by running four to five starters out there, backed by a bullpen of setup men in the middle and closers on the end, that can pitch your team through offensive slumps. Slumps will happen. They happen to everyone. But they happen less to teams focused around offensive players who get on base.

Guys that walk 100-plus times a year will slump, the difference being that when they slump they’re still getting on base via the walk.

When talking with young pitchers, especially ones struggling early, the hardest thing to make them understand is the difference between a strike and ball four.

The OBP of a walk is 1.000, the OBP of a hitter hitting a 3-1 belt-high fastball is anywhere from .350 to .450, right? THROW STRIKES! When you have a staff of pitchers with some strikeout guys on both ends, you win more games than you lose for the most part. If that staff is backed up by a lineup of six to eight guys who generate OBPs of .340 to .350-plus, you present major problems for the league over a 162-game schedule.

Look at the Angels. They did what I didn’t think they could in shutting down the Boston offense. Lackey came through huge; so did their other starters.

But in my opinion, the series-changing player was Abreu. Having played with Bobby for a few years in Philly, it certainly didn’t shock me, nor do I think it shocked Tito. This guy is and has been a VERY good player for a long time. He gave their offense a dimension it NEVER had in years past and even just one hitter in that lineup with his makeup changed EVERYTHING from an approach standpoint. Not only that, but he had a phenomenal series.

I do think Jason Bay is a huge piece to the Sox being good again, but at the same time, cementing that staff will ensure they are good again. They’ll put an offense centered around Petey and Youk out there again, and with Jacoby improving as much as he has, there isn’t a ton left to fix there. Victor will now sit in the middle of that lineup as well. If they can run that offense out there with an emerging Lester, an ace in Beckett, they’ll be good, real good, again.

How you know he’s a bad ump:

1. Umpires that are in consistent spats with coaches, players.

Both coaches and players, for the most part, understand the job is hard as hell while hoping they (the umpires) know it’s the height of competition, adrenalin and testosterone during a game. The REAL good ones — Ed Rapuano, Terry Tata and a few others — they know that and they ALWAYS give you a chance to calm down and back off. The Greg Gibsons of the world are LOOKING for ANY chance to confront players. I’ve always felt it had more to do with a small [man] mentality than anything. These guys HATE players — Gibby does anyway — and they make sure to let you know that ASAP in any way they can. They will LOOK to make an impact call to draw attention, never getting that no one is there to see them, ever.

(FWIW, I don’t think C.B. is that guy. I don’t think C.B. is trying to draw attention to himself, I just don’t think he’s a very good ump and in his tenure in the big leagues has not improved even a little.)

2. When both hitters and pitchers are bitching.

Look, I loved, LOVED big strike zones. I never game-planned for one, but I sure as hell loved balls being called strikes. When I got them, great. Hitters are the reverse. Where we never differed was in our desire for consistency.

Large or small zone, my ONLY ask was that Strike 1 be Strike 3. You have the human element, and everyone understands that, that’s why I always knew that umps like Joe West were NOT going to give me a makeup call, they made their mistakes and moved on. Some others you KNEW for a fact would make up a bad call as soon as they could, both ways.

The MLB umpiring system is the most flawed thing in the sport. There is very little oversight or demand for a major league level of performance. Their out has been QuesTec and its scoring system, which I think most know my thoughts on.

I have an immense amount of respect for Sandy Alderson, but I think he’s failed horribly at implementing a system to FORCE umpires to improve their performance in the major leagues.

RED SOX KEYS

1) Lester/Beckett fastball command — Look at their first time through the lineup. If Josh is commanding the outside corner to right-handed hitters, and Jon is commanding the inside corner to right-handed hitters, they’ll win. It won’t take that long IMO, but give them one time through. Normally I wouldn’t give them nine hitters, but I really have issues with seeing any starter from LA shut down the Sox lineup to where one first-inning run loses a game.

2) Ellsbury — He’s more dangerous on the bases than any Angels player, and if he’s on and causing problems for Angels starters, it adds a worry I don’t think they are considering as they head into the series. The Sox have 6-8 guys who can take you deep. If Jacoby on the bases is an issue, it could wreck all sorts of game-planning by Angels pitchers against Sox hitters.

3) Seventh and eighth innings — Yeah, you love to have a ‘pen full of options, but in October few teams have, or use, multiple pitchers out of the bullpen before the closer. If Oki can find a partner in Bard or Saito, or if Wagner is throwing strikes and has his usual stuff, the Sox could literally shorten games to six innings.

ANGELS KEYS

1) Team speed is useless if you don’t get on. It’s a double-edged sword. Team speed works when your hitters are patient and work counts. If you do that, and Josh and Jon are commanding their fastballs, you lose.

2) Someone in their rotation must show shut-down capability. It’s a staff-wide thing. If they get pounded in Game 1, that stuff steamrolls a rotation. I’ve been on both sides, and they don’t have a power arm to stop the Sox. Game 1 is going to be huge in either enforcing or changing the “Here we go again” mentality

3) Mike Scioscia — Team speed is useless if the manager doesn’t use it. I never felt the Angels were aggressive in October. It almost felt like their season-long formula of manufacturing runs stopped when the calendar turned to avoid having “outs” being made by the manager. Likely not true, but I will be interested to see if they push it. I don’t think they have any choice but to run, run fast, and run often. The only bat that you might worry about for every game is Morales.

ATTACKING THE ANGELS LINEUP

The key to beating them is literally there before the game starts. If you can get the ball to home in 1.25 seconds or less, you can stop many running situations. Taking away team speed is like taking hitters OUT of the lineup.

Obviously: “You can’t steal first base.” Walks, or lack thereof, will be HUGE this series, depending on who you are talking about. The OBP of a walk is 1.000. When the BEST hitters put the BEST hitter’s-count pitches in play, they still make outs 50-75 percent of the time. If you can understand that approach, you stay within the strike zone and great things happen.

To be honest, one of my biggest fears is the umpiring crew. This is about as bad a crew as I have ever seen assembled. Joe West, for all his pomp and circumstance, can ump a game. C.B. Buckner? Greg Gibson? Not so much. I’m blown away that A) They made the postseason and B) They are umping what I think will be the most-watched series. If I HAD to put them on the postseason roster, I’d try to hide them on the outfield foul lines of Colorado. Look for BOTH to have game impact in this series.

From the standpoint of shutting down the Angels hitters, Sox pitchers know pitch-by-pitch, AB-by-AB and situation-by-situation the best possible plan to get these guys out. The entire staff knows it. I won’t put game plans in here. Not that the Angels hitters don’t know what they are going to see, but I don’t want to help if I don’t have to.

It will come down to execution. All three guys – Beckett, Lester and Clay Buchholz — will thrive on the same thing. Josh’s curveball, Jon’s cutter and Clay’s change and curveball will ONLY be huge pitches if they are commanding their fastballs. Never is that more important than October, and at no time is it more important than that first time through the lineup.

You generally don’t get a second time around if you are lacking fastball command. Hitters, good ones, are at peak performance (with the exception of guys who suck in the postseason), and you don’t get a second chance to make a mistake.

I have generally found you only worry about privacy when you have something to hide.

I know there are tons of people worried not only about the health care bill, but also what appears to be the ramrod process pushed by those who know it’s going to get crushed the minute the details become public.

This administration, time and again, has done the exact opposite of what was promised. Transparency, accountability? This is the EXACT OPPOSITE of both. Anyone wonder why that is?

Don’t you find it odd, but totally understandable,  that Democrats are lining up AGAINST making this stuff available to the public prior to the vote and Republicans are not?

No coincidence, none at all.

This linked article is one I am very curious to know what people think about. I know how I feel.

If you don’t care how I feel, leave now.

Let me get this straight. The man in charge of the 68,000 American men and women putting their lives on the line, as well as the 100,000-strong NATO force in Afghanistan, is in trouble.

He’s in trouble for speaking his mind and telling us, the American people, exactly the truth as he believes it to be.

Basically, he tells us that the half-assed efforts being considered, the ideas of military stalwart Joe Biden to use Special Forces strike teams and unpiloted drones, will lead to an unfavorable result.

We’re being fed two different stories on every front now. The media rants, the government rants when “leaks” lead to even an ounce of unfavorable press. Yet, the second a leak sheds a positive spin on anything governmental, it’s splattered from coast to coast.

An adviser to the administration said: “People aren’t sure whether McChrystal is being naïve or an upstart. To my mind he doesn’t seem ready for this Washington hard-ball and is just speaking his mind too plainly.”

Is that possible? I mean he’s not speaking Joe Biden plain and giving away national defense secret locations, but he’s speaking as the man in charge of all allied ground forces in theater right? Don’t WE want him to speak plainly? Speak the truth where no harm can come to our soldiers? In fact, isn’t he spelling out in pretty plain words what he believes our politicians back home need to do to allow our men and women the best chance to A) survive and B) win?

Then we have this nugget:

He went on to say: “Waiting does not prolong a favorable outcome. This effort will not remain winnable indefinitely, and nor will public support.”

Which, if you read the article, is followed with this:

He will hold at least one more this week, but a decision on how far to follow Gen McChrystal’s recommendation to send 40,000 more US troops will not be made for several weeks.

I completely understand the need to NOT knee-jerk and not overreact, but at the same time lives are being lost with every full rotation of the clock we see. This IS life and death, this IS real. It doesn’t get more real than this. That’s not to even speak to the fact that the war in Afghanistan has been pushed to back page news except when Americans and NATO soldiers are killed. Yes, we have domestic issues that must be resolved, but that should in no way impact the process, speed or timing in which the president of this nation allows the men charged with military action and planning to do their jobs, right?

He added that it was highly unusual for a senior military officer to “pressure the president in public to adopt his strategy.”

This offends me in so many ways. This highly decorated “senior military officer” is the EXACT man I want pressuring ANYONE involved in decision-making, ever. That’s what he does, that’s who he is. If you are stupid or ignorant enough to think you know better — or have the “right plan” — than the man with boots on the ground over there, well, you’re lost.

Finally there is this:

“They want to make sure people know what they asked for if things go wrong,” said Lawrence Korb, a former assistant secretary of defense.

Critics also pointed out that before their Copenhagen encounter Mr. Obama had only met Gen. McChrystal once since his appointment in June.

Here is where I, as a citizen, have some huge issues. Brilliant military men, men tasked with leading this nation’s military, already are recognizing this administration’s desires, and smart people are recognizing this for what it is. They know they don’t or aren’t going to get this government’s backing WITHOUT the public completely aware of the score. Why would they do this? Is political capital so valuable that you’d put lives at risk? Is a political campaign, four years away, that valuable to people in our government? Is it? Is that out of the realm of possibility?

And lastly, how is it possible that the president of the United States has only had time to meet face to face with the commander of allied forces in Afghanistan only once since June? That’s four months. I am not naive enough to think they both don’t have ridiculous schedules, but if the president hadn’t thought the Olympic bid so important he wouldn’t even have been in the same hemisphere to have this meeting, right? If the War on Terror is such a huge priority, why has this not happened sooner? I know that they can “talk” from anyplace on the planet at a moment’s notice — I assume they have before this, but I don’t know. But if they know, and they did, that a face-to-face meeting was as much for perception and support as it was for substance, maybe more so, why didn’t that rate higher on the priority scale?

Here’s the reason this bothers me so much. Spending 10 days in theater was the most eye-opening and rewarding thing I’ve ever done. No, it didn’t make me an expert, not even close, on the war over there. What it did do is explain to me that the soldiers, the privates, the men patrolling hostile territory 24/7, living and dying, are truly bothered by the fact that the media on this side of the ocean was NOT reporting on the war they were fighting. Far from it. The lies and BS we were, are and will be told are often times quite the opposite of the facts in play.

First Lt. Sale Solaita is a very dear friend. Sale (Pronounced “Solly”) is the big Samoan that escorted both my friend and I during our 10 day stay in Iraq in 2008. Sale is Samoan, and his family is from Samoa.

Anyone following the news knows there was a MASSIVE earthquake and an ensuing Tsunami that has taken an incredible toll in lives and homes.

Rarely in life do we get a chance to give back so meaningfully to the men and women who offer the ultimate sacrifice for us, in service of our nation and freedoms. I don’t need to, but I will anyway, tell you that Sale is about as fine a man as you could ever hope to meet. Decorated service in the War in Iraq with a new baby to come home to when he returned.

Sale has listed the two ways to help below, if you can please give in any amount possible.

From the bottom of my heart for any and all that can help!

God Bless,

Curt

You could do either one of the 2:

1)  Send a check to:
 
 AIGA FOUNDATION:

c/o George Malauulu

re: AMERICAN SAMOA RELIEF FUND

3133 San Francisco Avenue

Long Beach, CA 90806

2) Wait until the helpsamoa.com site puts up their paypal account on www.helpsamoa.com.

It may never make sense for me to do it, but right now it certainly does not.

Given the amount of things going on, I cannot in good conscience even consider running for the open Senate seat here in Massachusetts.

While I sincerely appreciate the outreach and the kind words I’ve received, I think at the end of the day it would be the wrong decision for all involved for me to attempt this.

I wouldn’t have even considered it if I didn’t think I could win. I don’t think I possess the experience I would want, or the time needed, to commit to doing this.

This state is in desperate need of someone new, someone fresh, someone completely dedicated to the constituents of the Commonwealth. While I think I would be all three, it’s a 24-hour-a-day, 7-day-a-week, 365-day-a-year job, and 38 Studios, my family, ALS and Shade are the things that I need to commit my time to right now.

To those that have extended offers of help and encouragement, I sincerely appreciate it all.

Nineteen years ago Shonda and I met a man named Dick Bergeron. Dick had been recently diagnosed with ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), better known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease.

ALS, today, is still 100 percent fatal. However, in the past 19 years Lou’s name has gained notoriety and recognition in many positive ways.

His life story has been written about many times over. This is the best book I’ve ever read on it.

Why is this relevant? For two reasons, really. The first was the nation becoming aware of Lou during the previous decade, when Cal Ripken broke Lou’s consecutive game streak. Cal did it with a blue collar work ethic unmatched in anyone I ever played with. Knowing Cal’s father, it was easy to see how and why he was who he was.

The second reason occurred this past weekend. On a rain-soaked evening in the new Yankee Stadium, Derek Jeter lined an opposite-field single for career hit No. 2,722 and became the all-time hits leader for the New York Yankee franchise. The event got some good PR and some decent coverage, but it’s far more significant than the coverage it’s been given, to me anyway. This isn’t the Nationals or Padres we’re talking about, this is one of sports’ oldest franchises and home of the game’s greatest all-time players.

Red Sox fans are pretty much in agreement that Jeter is a player they love to “not like.” I don’t say hate because real Sox fans — dyed-in-the-wool Sox Nation members — can’t hate the guy. You can dislike him immensely, and much of that is due to the pinstripes, but there is nothing we know of that would give pause, rhyme or reason to not having immense respect for what he’s done on and off the field.

His early career was marked by trend-setting numbers at a position defined by defense for the past century. Well, that and four World Series rings in his first week or two in the big leagues, it seemed.

But beyond that there are two things that stand out to me.

Derek Jeter has always been above the fray. As someone who’s wallowed in it, “foot-in-mouthed” it hundreds of times, said dumb things and backed up dumber ones, it’s refreshing. He’s shown up, played, and turned in a first-ballot Hall of Fame career in the hardest environment in sports to do any/all of the above.

That, in and of itself, is an accomplishment.

More importantly to me, though, was this. I enjoyed competing against him as much as anyone I ever faced. Derek was that guy who was going to hit his way, regardless, with enough talent to still get hits when you made your pitch and hit your spot. One of my favorite memories was stepping onto the rubber for Game 7 of the 2001 World Series, being as locked in as I’ve ever been, looking into home plate and looking into his eyes, and us smiling at each other, knowing what we were getting ready to experience. By the way, I should never have thrown the fastball away in the seventh inning, I had him if I’d just kept pounding the ball in …

I have no idea how he felt about competing against me, or about me as a player, but I know competing against that guy, for the decade or so we matched up, was what made the Major Leagues the Major Leagues for someone like me.

So, congratulations Derek, you earned every ounce of respect and accolades thrown your way, and you’re one of the few men I ever competed against who is worthy of having his name mentioned with the same reverence and respect as Lou Gehrig.