Life lessons

By Stephen Cannella, Sports Illustrated

The Arizona Diamondbacks had just clinched a trip to the World Series with a taut 3-2 win over the Atlanta Braves in Game 5 of the National League Championship Series, and an exhausted Randy Johnson was holding court in the noisy and champagne-soaked visitors clubhouse at Turner Field. The Unit had thrown 118 pitches over seven innings -- a pedestrian workload by the standards of the man who had thrown the most pitches (4,078) and logged the second-most innings (249 2/3) in baseball during the regular season. Still, Johnson admitted he was completely drained, physically and mentally. "I'd always wondered," he said, "what it took to get to the World Series."

The remark echoed something Johnson had said five days earlier after beating the Braves in Game 1. That victory snapped his seven-game postseason losing streak and helped put to rest his reputation for not having what it takes to win big games -- a rap that by the end of the World Series seemed distant and absurd. Johnson was also mentally spent after that outing and he acknowledged, with a hint of surprise in his voice, that the nine innings of intense concentration had left his head pounding even 45 minutes after his final pitch.

Without Johnson and Curt Schilling, the co-aces of the Diamondbacks' rotation, there would have been no World Series in Arizona. More than half of the team's victories during the regular season came in games Johnson and Schilling started; ditto for nine of the D'Backs' 11 postseason wins. The Big Two combined for more strikeouts in a season (665) than any other teammate pairing in history. Schilling tied for the major league lead in victories (22). Johnson (21-6) struck out more hitters, regular and postseason combined, than any pitcher in history. Statistically, Johnson and Schilling were as dominant a pitching duo as the game has ever seen.

The most striking aspect of their year, however, was the learning curve they carved together. Before this year Johnson, 38, had won three Cy Young Awards. The 34-year-old Schilling had won an NLCS MVP award and twice had 300 strikeouts in a season. They already were two of the most accomplished and intelligent pitchers in the game. Over a season of chatting on the bench, golfing on road trips and watching each other from afar, Johnson and Schilling shared their experience and knowledge, and they created a two-headed rotation monster that was greater than the sum of its parts. The result was a world championship for their team, and upward arcs for their careers at ages when most pitchers' performances level off.

Johnson discovered, finally, what it takes to get to a World Series, a lesson Schilling had learned with the Phillies in 1993. Schilling, who had always prided himself on his maniacal day-to-day drive and focus, said that observing Johnson showed him that "there's another level." The pleasure of watching Johnson and Schilling this season lay not in the strikeouts they piled up or even in the championship they delivered. It lay in the thrill of watching two craftsmen at advanced stages of their careers realize that there was still room for improvement, that they still had much to learn. Whether it's applied to pitching, painting, writing or living, that's an important lesson for all of us.

Sports Illustrated staff writer Stephen Cannella covers the baseball beat for the magazine and is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com.