Most of all, Schilling will get a vote here because, from 1992 to 2007, except in the seasons when he battled injuries that have ended many a career, he displayed a quality that is difficult to define but easy to recognize in those who have it.

Greatness.

Whether you liked him or not, whether you thought he was a self-absorbed glory hound or an outspoken jerk, it is difficult to deny that Curt Schilling was a great pitcher and one hell of a competitor.

Schilling, 41, announced Friday that he will have shoulder surgery tomorrow. Though he has left open the possibility of a comeback, he has acknowledged that his career could be over. That would seem likely. Schilling has already beaten the odds, coming back from two major shoulder surgeries earlier in his career. He turns 42 in November and a comeback at that age, with that many miles on his shoulder, just might be too big a hurdle.

Schilling knows that. He has no regrets. He shouldn't have any.

He's had a great career, one filled with triumph and drama, both usually of his own doing.

A fantastic Phil

Here in Philadelphia, we saw the beginning of it all. For 81/2 seasons, Schilling pitched for mostly bad Phillies teams, winning 101 games and providing a number of unforgettable moments, on the field and off.

It's impossible to forget his work in the 1993 National League Championship Series, when he was the MVP, when he was first fitted with the label "Big Game Pitcher."

There were other unforgettable moments, like his Game 5 shutout of the Blue Jays in the 1993 World Series and his two 300-strikeout seasons in a Phillies uniform.

One of those 300-K seasons came in 1997. The Phillies tied for the worst record in the NL that season. Schilling was always a guy who could find motivation anywhere. "He gets pumped up on Bobblehead Day," Terry Francona, his former manager in Philadelphia and current skipper in Boston, likes to say. On Labor Day 1997, Schilling found his motivation as the defending World Series champion New York Yankees arrived at Veterans Stadium.

The Phils had the worst attendance in the NL that season. But with the Yankees in town, the crowd swelled to 50,869, and Schilling, spotlight junkie that he was, loved it. In his personal World Series, he struck out 16. He threw 124 pitches, 30 of them 95 m.p.h. or better.

"Adrenaline can do some pretty cool things," he said after that game.

Often, Schilling made news off the field in Philadelphia, not in a film-at-11 kind of way, but in a way that often made him seem self-serving.

In the spring of 1997, he was desperate for a contract extension with a no-trade clause. He got it, then, after seeing how bad the Phillies were, offered to waive the no-trade clause in July.

He dropped that news on reporters in the clubhouse at Camden Yards the same day President Bill Clinton was visiting the team. No one upstaged Schill. Not even the President. And no one had a way with words like Schilling, who managed to comment on the Phillies' disappointing attendance as he reached through Secret Service personnel to shake Clinton's hand.

"You'll have to forgive me, Mr. President, if I seem a little nervous," Schilling said. "I'm not used to having my uniform on in front of this many people."

During those dark Phillies days, 1994 to 2000, Schilling was Entertainment Tonight. Every night, you knew he was going to strike out a bunch of hitters, then say something provocative afterward.

One night he pitched a gem in Montreal and while reviewing it with reporters boldly called for ownership to sell the team. Another night he made fun of his soft middle, saying: "This isn't a body, it's a family curse." Another time, he called Deion Sanders, then with the Cincinnati Reds, "a glorified flag-football player who can run." Years later, after he had left Philadelphia, he downplayed the Yankees' great history and said mystique and aura were just names of exotic dancers.