In 2004, Curt Schilling was a baseball god. With blood seeping through his sock and millions watching, he pitched the Boston Red Sox to their first World Series title in 86 years, sealing his legacy in sports history. He was a warrior, a gamer in cleats, a man who thrived in high-stakes battles. What few knew at the time was that Schilling was already plotting his next conquest—one that had nothing to do with baseball, but everything to do with fantasy.

By 2006, armed with tens of millions from his playing days and a deep obsession with World of Warcraft, Schilling launched a bold new venture: a video game company called 38 Studios. His dream? Build an empire to rival Blizzard and change the face of online gaming forever. What followed was one of the most spectacular flameouts in both sports and tech history—a saga of ambition, mismanagement, taxpayer dollars, lawsuits, layoffs, and a dirty sock sold at auction.

When the game ended, Curt had lost his entire baseball fortune.

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Curt Schilling’s 38 Studios: Rise, Fall, and Fallout

After a legendary baseball career, Curt Schilling took on an unlikely second act: video game entrepreneur. A lifelong gamer, Schilling founded 38 Studios (originally “Green Monster Games”) in 2006 with dreams of creating the next World of Warcraft. He even invested his own fortune – about $50 million earned from 20 years in MLB – into the venture. In 2010, lured by a $75 million loan guarantee from Rhode Island, Schilling moved 38 Studios from Massachusetts to Providence, promising to bring hundreds of new jobs to the state. By 2012, the studio had released a single title – Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, a fantasy role-playing game – and was deep into developing an ambitious MMORPG codenamed Project Copernicus.

The Reckoning… Literally

Unfortunately, Schilling’s dream game turned into a financial nightmare. Reckoning earned decent reviews and sold about 1.3 million copies – not shabby, but far below the 3 million needed to break even. By spring 2012, 38 Studios was running on fumes and missed a $1.1 million payment to Rhode Island in May. The company soon couldn’t make payroll, and that May all 379 employees were abruptly laid off as 38 Studios spiraled into bankruptcy. The six years of work on Project Copernicus evaporated – the only public glimpse of it being a few trailers and screenshots, as the MMO never saw the light of day. Rhode Island taxpayers were left holding tens of millions in debt.

As the studio imploded, the financial fallout rippled outward—starting with Schilling himself. Schilling himself was “tapped out” financially – a staggering fall from grace for a hero of the 2004 World Series. He began liquidating assets to cover debts and obligations. In early 2013, he auctioned off his famous blood-stained sock from the 2004 ALCS (once on display in Cooperstown) and other memorabilia. The sock fetched about $92,000 – a hefty sum for a dirty sock, but a far cry from the millions he needed. He also put his 20-room Massachusetts mansion on the market and held an estate sale of personal collectibles. The mansion, which he’d bought from NFL star Drew Bledsoe for $4.5 million, ultimately sold for $2 million in 2017.

Lost Fortune

During his career, Curt Schilling earned around $115 million in salary alone. He likely earned several million more from endorsements. According to Curt’s own estimate, five years after retiring he had socked away a net worth of $50 million.

That fortune was entirely wiped out.

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Fallout and Legal Battles

The implosion of 38 Studios quickly led to finger-pointing and legal action. In late 2012, Rhode Island’s Economic Development Corp. (EDC) – which had approved the loan deal – sued Schilling and his executives for fraud, accusing them of misleading the state about the company’s viability. Schilling blasted the lawsuit as politically motivated, noting the deal had been made “with [the state’s] eyes wide open” about the risks. He even publicly called Governor Lincoln Chafee (a vocal critic of the 38 Studios deal) a “buffoon” and “dunce of epic proportions” for allegedly undermining the company’s survival. According to Schilling, 38 Studios would have succeeded if the state had just released the remaining $26 million it held in reserve, rather than keeping it to cover the bonds.

Defending himself in a 2012 interview:

“I have done whatever I can do to create jobs and create a successful business, with my own income. Fifty million dollars, everything I’ve ever saved, has been put back into the economy… I’ve never taken a penny and I’ve done nothing but create jobs and create economy.”

Years of legal wrangling followed. By 2016, Schilling and three former 38 Studios executives agreed to a $2.5 million settlement (paid by their insurance) to resolve the state’s claims against them. One by one, other defendants – banks and financial companies involved in the deal – also settled. In the end, Rhode Island managed to recoup about $61 million through these settlements, roughly half of what the failed venture cost taxpayers. A separate federal investigation ended with no criminal charges, as prosecutors found “no provable criminal violations” in the deal. (That didn’t stop Rhode Islanders from labeling the episode a “disastrous deal” and clamoring for transparency so that “such a disastrous deal never happens again,” in the words of one official.)

While Schilling apologized to his former employees for how things ended, he remained defiant about the broader fallout. He insisted 38 Studios failed due to lack of funding, not any intentional wrongdoing.

“If somebody thinks I need to apologize, what is it I need to apologize for? I didn’t commit any crimes,” Schilling said in a 2016 radio interview, bluntly rejecting the idea that he personally wronged the public.

He expressed regret that the collapse hurt people in Rhode Island, but maintains he did nothing unethical:

“It failed because I failed to raise the final amount of money, but there was no malice, no criminal intent, I didn’t steal or take [anybody’s money],” he asserted.

More than a decade later, Curt Schilling’s foray into gaming remains a cautionary tale – and a frequent punchline. In the video game community, the saga of 38 Studios is often cited as a prime example of pro athletes learning (the hard way) that making games isn’t as easy as playing them. The Kingdoms of Amalur IP itself got a surprising second life: in 2018 a new publisher snapped up the rights to Amalur (including the unfinished MMO) from the state’s liquidation sale. The franchise, once left for dead, was even remastered and re-released as Kingdoms of Amalur: Re-Reckoning in 2020, giving the game a cult following that must feel bittersweet to its originator.