09:42 AM EST on Wednesday, December 15, 2004

BOSTON -- Pedro Martinez made official yesterday what everyone had known the day before: his career with the Red Sox is over and he would soon be signing a four-year deal with the New YorK Mets.

Martinez and his representative, Fernando Cuza, reached agreement with the Mets Sunday night and Monday in Anaheim as the winter meetings concluded, but actually, the seeds of Pedro's discontent -- and departure -- were sewn a while ago.

With the benefit of hindsight, it could be said that Martinez's stay with the Red Sox started to end when Curt Schilling was traded back to the Red Sox 13 months ago. If not then, certainly by Game 6 of the American League Championship Series, when, pitching on a sutured-together ankle, Schilling became part of Red Sox lore.

AP photo

Pedro Martinez, acknowledging the fans at Fenway Park after the Red Sox returned from sweeping the Cardinals in the World Series, found his role upsurped by Curt Schilling.

From that moment on, it became obvious that the Red Sox would never again be Martinez's team. The torch had been passed to Schilling, who made it his mission to help lead the team to its first championship in 86 years, then made good -- in most dramatic fashion -- on his promise.

In addition to a fierce competitive streak and a still-impressive arsenal of pitches, Martinez can lay claim to a sizeable ego. That hardly separates him from any number of great athletes, past and present. But Martinez allowed his ego to cloud his judgment.

He's not the only one to feel overshadowed by Schilling. Randy Johnson, Schilling's teammate with the Arizona Diamondbacks for three-plus seasons, felt similarly dwarfed by Schilling -- no mean feat for a pitcher who stands 6-foot-10.

When trade talk simmered last summer, Johnson eliminated Boston as a destination, not because he hated Schilling but because he didn't want to be seen as one-half of a pitching tandem.

It was much the same for Martinez, whose past accomplishments with the Red Sox seemed to diminish as Schilling's legend grew. As Schilling soldiered on through the postseason, balky ankle and all, you could almost see him eclipse Martinez. Never mind that Martinez has won three Cy Young awards -- two with the Red Sox -- compared to none for Schilling; Johnson once won four in a row and still felt overwhelmed.

None of which is Schilling's fault. But his outsized personality, willingness to engage the media, and his love for the Big Moment all contributed -- however unwittingly -- to some resentment on the part of, first, Johnson and, later, Martinez.

For his first seven seasons, Martinez was emblematic of the Red Sox. His name was synonymous with excellence, and his high points -- the 1999 All-Star Game start, his no-hit relief appearance in the 1999 ALDS, his 17-strikeout performance in Yankee Stadium and his brilliant effort against an outclassed Roger Clemens in the 1999 ALCS -- are moments no Red Sox fan could -- or will -- ever forget.

But when Schilling arrived, the aura surrounding Martinez began to ebb some. It was Schilling whose starts became Fenway events. It was his ankle injury -- both earlier in the season, then again in October -- that everyone closely monitored. And it was Schilling who seemed to will the Red Sox to World Series glory.

If Martinez couldn't quite recapture the mantle as Red Sox ace, he thought he could reclaim some of that title at the pay window. So he insisted that the average annual value (AAV) of any new contract outstrip that of Schilling; with some reluctance, the Red Sox eventually agreed.

Industry sources confirm that the specter of Schilling never was far from the negotiations, especially in the Florida confab that took place last month, immediately after the pitcher's well-publicized meeting with George Steinbrenner.

Martinez couldn't understand why the Red Sox were initially reluctant to give him a three-year deal when they had essentially done the same for Schilling, nearly five years his senior. The Sox had inherited the final year of Schilling's contract when they traded for him, then, as an inducement for waiving his no-trade clause, gave him two more guaranteed seasons and a vested option for a third.

For the life of him, Martinez couldn't understand why Schilling, despite his advanced years, was worthy of a longer commitment from the club. More recently, he chafed when the Sox pointed out his 2004 season featured the highest E.R.A. and opponents' batting average of his career.

So when the Mets moved to a fourth season, Martinez had his "out." In New York, Martinez again will be the staff ace, again be the pitcher around which a rotation revolves.

But he'll be doing so for a cellar-dwelling team, playing in a stadium without charm, and in a town where the cross-town rivals -- and Martinez's long-time nemesis -- will always be on top.

It seems a long way to go, and a strange place to choose, merely to prove a point.