Byline: NAOMI AOKI Boston Globe
Is he the pitcher or the pitchman?
Two months into his first season in Boston, Curt Schilling is already the most public face of the Red Sox. He's in a series of ads for New England Ford Dealers, including one starring his wife, Shonda, and their four children. He's on a Reebok billboard near Fenway Park that will soon also appear in other parts of the city. And in an ad for Dunkin' Donuts, he practiced his Boston accent between bites of the chain's maple cheddar breakfast sandwich.
He's on the radio each week, and as if all that weren't enough, he was all over the television news two weeks ago after he called police to report a suspected drunk driver.
The 37-year-old right-handed ace seemed so ubiquitous that actor and former Cambridge resident Ben Affleck roasted him about his burst of advertising at an April luncheon for the Boston Red Sox Foundation.
``Curt, I think there are one or two things you're not currently promoting yet in town,'' Affleck said. ``Are there?''
Schilling takes the ribbing in stride. He said he even got sick of seeing himself on television. The irony is that right now he's only shilling (pun intended) for two companies since the Dunkin' ad went off the air in April.
``I really made a conscious effort not to overdo the ads,'' he said. ``But the ads were on the air so much that it left people with the impression I've done a lot of different things.''
That's because, at least as far as the Red Sox go, Schilling is unusually public. Other top Sox players lack Schilling's ``it'' factor. Nomar Garciaparra, known as one of baseball's hardest-working players, so zealously guards his privacy that it's difficult for fans to relate to him, while fellow superstars Pedro Martinez and Manny Ramirez a no better.
``Schilling is a proven winner, a workhorse who wears his passion on his sleeve,'' said Daniel Ladik, assistant professor of marketing at Suffolk University in Boston. ``There's no question; he wants to be here, and he wants to win. He's an extrovert to the nth degree. I can't name another Red Sox player like that.''
The Red Sox are paying Schilling $12 million this year, and though neither he nor the companies will disclose how much he earns as a pitchman, it seems unlikely that he needs the extra money.
Schilling has embraced public life wherever he's played. He engages fans in chat rooms, and e-mails them. He doesn't shy away from the press.
He shares the limelight with his family, too. In fact, Shonda and their four children steal the show in a spot for the Ford F-150 truck, ordering him to do pushups and gently casting him aside when it's time for cool, tall glasses of lemonade for the children.
His public persona -- that of a devoted husband and father, a hard-working pitcher, a generous donor to charities, and an all-around good guy -- is what advertisers love about Schilling. He's no bad boy of baseball who might sully a brand's reputation. He also doesn't take himself too seriously. As one Dunkin' Donuts executive noted, not every player would trot out a bad Boston accent for all the world to hear.
Schilling argues that his on-field performance is what matters to fans. And though that may be true, ad professionals say that performance alone doesn't sell products.
Oddly enough, Schilling said, the more public he and his family are, the easier it is for them to lead a normal life. ``I'm not different from everybody else, except for my ability to throw a baseball and my paycheck,'' Schilling said. ``By letting people see you and your family, they see that, and they become more comfortable around you.''
CAPTION(S):
BUSINESS WIRE CURT SCHILLING has become a Boston favorite by mocking himself in numerous ads, including one for Dunkin' Donuts in which he practices his accent.
