Boston’s Curt Schilling, never afraid of pitching in the big game, fires away at the Cleveland Indians last night.

The Providence Journal / Bob Breidenbach

BOSTON — In a sense it was almost inevitable, something from a script that’s already been written.

Curt Schilling in another big game in October.

Curt Schilling in another big postseason moment.

DÉja vu all over again, as Yogi used to say.

So there he was last night, trying to keep this Red Sox season alive, trying to get this series to a seventh game, trying to give the Sox a chance to make their second World Series appearance in four years. The same Curt Schilling that all but willed the Sox to their title in 2004, his bloody sock the symbol of that memorable postseason.

There was Schilling in the middle of the spotlight last night, the place he always wants to be. There was Schilling going to the mound last night, knowing that it could have been his last appearance in a Red Sox uniform.

There was Curt Schilling last night in what had to be an emotional journey.

Then again, hasn’t it always been that way ever since Big Schill first arrived here in the spring of 2004?

For nothing has ever been in small letters for Schilling, not since the Sox acquired him. He’s always been a story written in big capital letters that all but streak across the night-time sky.

Remember those truck commercials, Big Schill on the side of a lonely road out in the middle of nowhere somewhere, a guy trying to hitch a ride because he had to get to Boston to erase a curse?

Schilling doesn’t enter rooms quietly.

That’s always been part of the package, too, right there with his heart and his guile and his well-earned reputation as a big-game pitcher. He is a big personality, someone who has an opinion on everything; just ask him. It’s not just a coincidence that on more than one occasion management has wished he’d turn down the volume once in a while.

And if he earned his slice of Red Sox immortality in the 2004 postseason, the bloody sock forever imbedded in Sox history, forever cementing his reputation as an October pitcher, this has not been the easiest of summers for him.

For he will be 41 next month, and when you are a power pitcher that’s a lot of dog years.

In fact, it really hasn’t been easy since the bloody sock, as if something got lost in that postseason of 2004, something as irretrievable as youth. He spent 76 days on the disabled list in 2005, essentially a lost year. He rebounded last year, getting 15 wins and ranking fifth in the American League in strikeouts in one of those lost seasons for the Red Sox.

And this year?

He was out for nearly six weeks in the middle of the season, amidst concerns that his arm and shoulder simply couldn’t last an entire season anymore, that he essentially was pitching on fumes, a record of 9-8, with an ERA of nearly 4.00.

So this has been new terrain for Schilling, in the last year of a contract, his body obviously breaking down, the sand sifting through the hour glass of his career. Early in the year, he went on record saying he would love to be here next year. Sox management didn’t bite. It’s not easy looking into the mirror and seeing your baseball mortality staring back at you. Not even if you have Schilling’s rÉsume.

It also no secret that he’s tried to redefine himself as a pitcher, no easy thing for anyone to do, never mind a power pitcher who always could rear back and throw the ball by people. The fact he’s done it as successfully as he has is not only to his credit, but also a credit to his great control and command of his craft. Curt Schilling has forgotten more about pitching than most guys ever learn.

Still, he now pitches with no margin for error.

Power pitchers can afford to make a mistake here and there. Finesse pitchers cannot. Power pitchers can live over the middle of the plate once in a while. Finesse pitchers must live on the edge of it, a little like walking on the high wire without a net underneath.

Which is what happened to him in Game Two of this series when he failed to get out of the fifth inning.

He was contrite afterward, saying he was the reason the Sox had lost, that his early departure put too much pressure on the bullpen. Then again, Schilling is almost always at his best after a loss, never ducking the hard questions, never ducking the blame. That, too, always has been part of his complicated package.

So there he was last night, with another chance.

Not only was it a chance to help the Sox keep their season going, it also was another chance at some redemption for his performance in Game Two. Curt Schilling is supposed to come up big in big games, that’s part of his legend. He’s also pitching for his future, wherever it will be next year.

So there he was, once again last night, with the ball in his hand in a big game in October, the kind of game he once made his reputation on. There he was going out on again on the pitcher’s mound, the place where he etched his Red Sox immortality into stone just three years ago, knowing it could have been for the last time.

breynold@projo.com