Let's suppose, just for the sake of this discussion, that you are a member in good standing of the Baseball Writers' Association of America and that you are eligible to vote on candidates for the Baseball Hall of Fame. That being the case, you would have recently received a ballot containing the names of 25 candidates for induction in 2021. At the top of the list is the name of Curt Schilling.

What will your vote be on him?

On the plus side of the ledger is the fact that Schilling is a member of the 3,000 strikeout club and that he has the highest strikeout-to-walk ratio of any pitcher in history with that many strikeouts. He was also a renowned big-game pitcher and holds the best won-lost record for postseason games (11-2) of any pitcher in history. His bloody sock game in the 2004 ALCS has forever secured his reputation as a clutch performer.

On the other hand, if you compare parts of his record with that of Luis Tiant, who is not in the Hall of Fame (and whether or not his exclusion can be justified is a worthwhile topic for another time), Schilling comes up short. Tiant won more games (229 versus 216), had a lower earned run average (3.30 as opposed to 3.46), and had many more complete games (187 to 83) than Schilling did.

Once you have compiled all Schilling's relevant baseball stats, pro and con, the recommended thing to do is arrange them all in a neat pile, crumple them into a ball, and toss 'em in the wastebasket. That's because the only thing that really matters as far as his Hall of Fame candidacy is concerned seems to be his Twitter account or, to be accurate, his former Twitter account. He deactivated it six months ago, something he should have done 10 years before then.

He has never been shy about sharing his right-wing political views, but once he retired from baseball his Twitter account became more and more outlandish, getting him into more and more hot water. In his previous life, he had been a great control pitcher, walking only 711 batters while striking out 3,116. It's too bad he didn't have the same control over his tweeting habit. At one point, he sent one out that compared Muslims to Nazis. As one can imagine, it drew howls of protest. His rejoinder was that it's a free county and that a person can say whatever he wants, in other words that his critics were denying him his constitutional right of free speech. While it's true that the First Amendment to the Constitution guarantees the freedom of speech, it is also true that words matter and that we are and should be held responsible for what we say and write. Thus it was that, free speech or not, Schilling was unceremoniously dumped from his sweet gig as a baseball analyst for ESPN.

On another occasion, he retweeted a photo of a tee shirt which said, "Rope. Tree. Journalist. Some assembly required." Schilling added his own commentary that the message it sent was, "Awesome." When he was called on it, his defense was that the tweet was meant as a joke, nothing more. Not many actually believe that, antagonistic as his relationhip with members of the fourth estate may be, he really advocates the lynching of reporters. Nevertheless, his tweet still amounted to hate speech. Moreover, Schilling's tweet was not exactly designed to win friends and influence with journalists, the very people who vote on whether or not to enshrine him in Cooperstown.

There is also the matter of 38 Studios, Schilling's now-defunct video game company. Back in 2012, the state of Rhode Island, apparently blinded by the glare of his stardom and by his connection to the Red Sox (with whom 38 Studios was never in any way associated), lured the company into locating within its borders. As bait, it offered a guaranteed loan of $75 million. Schilling accepted the offer; the move to Rhode Island took place, and the loan was made. Then, a few short months later, 38 Studios went belly-up. Hundreds of employees were blindsided by the move and the Ocean State was left holding the bag for the $75 Mill. It should be noted that most of Schilling's own $50 million fortune was also lost.

Apparently, developing video games is a lot more complicated -- and expensive -- than it was back in the day when Merv Griffin borrowed heavily from the old parlor game of Hangman's Noose, added a few bells and whistles, hired Vanna White to stand beside the letter-board, and called his invention "Wheel of Fortune." In any case, the 38 Studios disaster left a bad taste in Rhode Island's mouth and resulted in the state house of representatives killing a deal for a new stadium that the Pawtucket Red Sox had negotiated with the state. The result was that the Pawsox were virtually kicked out of Rhode Island, and beginning next season will be known as the Worcester Red Sox. If you are a baseball fan from the Ocean State, you are the big loser, and it's all because your state made a bad deal with a video game company that happened to be run by a guy who used to play for the Red Sox.

Getting back to our original premise; you're a qualified Hall of Fame voter; you hold in your hand this year's ballot; and it prominently features the name of Curt Schilling, with all the baggage that implies. You know that last year he reached 70 percent of the vote, putting him right on the doorstep of the 75 percent needed for enshrinement. You might not like him, but the chances are that you'd want him on your team in a really big game.

Your vote could be the one that puts him over the top. Or not.

What's your choice?

- Dick Flavin is a New York Times bestselling author; the Boston Red Sox "Poet Laureate" and The Pilot's recently minted Sports' columnist.