Schill Still Shilling for Schilling

So Curt Schilling may pitch next season after all.

After the Pope's blogs, unsolicited radio interviews, his impromptu Fenway curtain call, and banter of his possible Hall-of-Fame status, it looks like man who soaks-up public adoration better than his bloody sock may return by next year's All-Star break, thanks to a successful shoulder surgery that revealed things weren't as bad as they seemed.

St. Schill is that neighbor who likes to top your stories. He's the buddy who tells you he caught the eight-foot Muskellunge on his eight-footer, swears he rescued his kids from an alligator while vacationing near Disney World, and elbows you after reaching deep into his pockets to buy your kids ice cream when the truck whistled by.

Except, unlike that guy, we've actually seen Schilling do all those things.

That's why we needn't him to tell us about them.

Schilling loves to bait the public into worrying about him. He tells us his career may be over, only to emerge from the anesthesia, pawning himself off like a bandaged Lazarus unraveling from the tomb at Bethany.

Theo Epstein and the Red Sox initially bristled at offering one of the game's biggest big-game hurlers another contract, before settling on a one-year, $8 million deal. That paid vacation--ahem, rehab--shows Boston's first impulse was more proof they were right about Schilling, as well as Pedro Martinez.

No, Boy Wonder is not always a genius and has made some bonehead moves along the way, even last year.

But the joke isn't on Theo, or his bosses over on Yawkey Way.

The joke is on baseball fans, baited into believing the Red Sox are some povern-stricken underdog that scrapes-by to compete with the New York Yankees.

The joke is on any Red Sox fans who fall for the Schilling Charade every time he opens his mouth about his socks, his life, and Kobe Bryant's lack of leadership, even though Kobe has as many rings as Schilling does.

Most importantly, the joke is on Yankee fans whose GM didn't stockpile enough prospects earlier this century to steal Schilling from the Diamondbacks when he reportedly wanted to finish his career in pinstripes.

In Brian Cashman's case, lacking that ounce of prevention equaled the end of The Curse. And after two Sox titles, Yankee fans can only curse Cashman.

By the way, now how are Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy looking?

* Kobe Bryant can erase a few doubts about his leadership if Team USA wins back the gold medal in Beijing.

It's amazing how the Lakers can go hi-top-to-hi-top with the best team in basketball in six games and get treated like the Clippers.

Meanwhile, Shaquille O'Neal's rhymes about Kobe may be funny, until about :30 into the song when you hear him pant like he did when he ran anchor with Mike D'Antoni's offense in Phoenix.

Next time, the Big Aristotle should pack the Primatene Mist before he gets into the cherry picker.

* Marshawn, Marshawn, Marshawn...

For those of you brilliant college kids entering the field of public relations, sports information, or sports management, the Marshawn Lynch fiasco is more proof that sports management and PR is more than just writing press releases, clipping stories, editing media guides (poorly), booking United Way appearances, hanging with athletes, making money, or creating these meaningless Reduce-the-Risk classes.

In other words, do you really want to spend a career cleaning-up after jocks who have been given a pass since Pee Wee football, who then get rich overnight?

Then again, it's the NFL, where Al Davis' mahantra "Just Win Baby" speaks for the league--and it's fans.

Sure, Roger Goodell can suspend everyone. And yet, Chris Henry, Odell Thurman, Cedric Benson, Jevon Kearse, and Javon Walker still haven't gotten the message.

But, at least it's not a "thug league" like the NBA, right?

At least in the NFL, nobody uses steroids, or HGH like those jerks in baseball.

Yeah football fans, keep reassuring yourselves to justify those fantasy leagues, point spreads, and Bills season tickets.

Meanwhile, the Buffalo Bills had better hope Freddie Jackson doesn't get hurt in training camp come July.

* Dad, it's been a year. And this writer didn't think a year ago he'd be writing this when he sat with you in Brooks Hospital minutes before you walked into Paradise.

But, like always, you probably tried to pull a few strings, only to have the Big Guy reassure everyone in the room that everything would be just fine.

Just like you used to.

Thank you, Dad.

Everything is just fine.