The Wisdom of Crowds

It was something you would expect to read in a Dan Shaugnhessy column.

"...Schilling himself laid it on the line earlier this week when he told me that his reporting weight of 248 pounds was 'not the weight I wanted to be at. But I also knew I’d be there on Opening Day.' And he should be held to that promise by Red Sox fans. It’s that simple....Now he has promised he’ll be in better shape by Opening Day. If he delivers, good for him, good for the Red Sox. If he fails to deliver on this latest promise, Sox fans will have to choose between getting on his case or giving him a lifetime pass based on the events of 2004."

But it wasn't Shank, taking another shot at his favorite punching bag. It was Steve Buckley who has pretty much laid low since acting as chairman of the "Run Nomar Out of Town" Committee in 2004. But there he was, in Thursday's Herald, calling out the Boston fans to actually give Curt a hard time just because, as Tony Massarotti put it, Schilling "looked like he ate Dustin Pedroia."

But Steve, here is a clue. It ain't gonna happen. The Big Schill does indeed have a "lifetime pass" earned in 2004. He is pretty much bullet-proof in Boston, as well he should be for risking the balance of his career in October 2004.

But it got me to thinking. What is it exactly that makes a player a hit or a miss with the fans? Why do the fans love some players unconditionally but then just as quickly treat others as if they just mailed anthrax to their kids' elementary school?

Looking at Curt's treatment in the past and probably as long as he wears a Sox uniform, it must be based on delivering the goods. If you perform at the top of your game, and become a key factor in the Sox winning something significant - like a World Series Championship perhaps? - then you are in the good graces of the fans forever. Right?

Well then how do you explain Keith Foulke? No question that the Sox would not have won in 2004 without Foulkie, but once the results weren't there, the fans ditched him faster than Britney dumped KFed. Yep. That must be it. The fans will love you as long as you produce, unless you have a bad attitude and act with distinterest toward the game.

Bingo. That's it. Because even though Manny has displayed as much passion for baseball as he does for doing his laundry and takes the occasional midseason sabbatical, he can do no wrong in the fans' eyes because he puts up .315-30-120 numbers. Once the numbers fade, like Foulke, the fans will turn.

Okay, then what's the deal with Trot Nixon? No one would argue that for the past two years, Nixon has been a shell of himself. He was as fragile as a Ming vase and his power numbers evaporated faster than Enron, but the fans still worshipped him. Fans are in mourning that the Sox didn't resign him, although by any measure, the old Dirt Dog couldn't perform any longer. So why the love? Must be the effort. Yea, that's it. Put in the effort and the knowledgeable Fenway Faithful will stick by you through thin and thin and thin.

Right. Ask Mark Bellhorn about that. Bellhorn was just as Dirt Doggie as Nixon. Tried his butt off and wouldn't say excrement if he had a glove full of it. But once he started doing his imitation of a ceiling fan, whiffing more in one year, than Wade Boggs did in his whole career, the Sox fans turned on him. They hooted and hollered and essentially ran him out of town. How come? He tried hard and got dirty, didn't he?

Perhaps he was too quiet. That must be it. Sox Fans like their players with a little pep and vinegar. Like Orlando Cabrerra. There you go. Featuring a handshake for every day in the week and displaying the enthuiasm of a seven year old at recess, OCab endeared himself to the fans in 90 days. He still gets standing ovations when he returns. So that's the key. Be upbeat, open, easily accessible and the fans will adore you.

Not so fast, right KevinMillar? Sure Millar was popular for his first two years, but his act wore thin after his production dropped and he began making like Terrel Owens when he didn't play. He became the embodiment of the old country/western song: "How can we miss you when you won't go away?" No on second thought, we prefer the strong silent type.

Like Bill Mueller. Nicknamed "the Pro", Mueller was quoted about six times in his three years here, but the fans respected and cheered him relentlessly. Another of the 2004 gang. They hated to see him leave in 2006. But that's the way we like our players. Quiet and self effacing. Be seen and not heard. That's the ticket.

Like Edgar Renteria? Well, not exactly. An allstar shortstop when he got here, he got the benefit of the doubt from the Fenway fans to start the year, but when he turned into croquet wicket at shortstop, the honeymoon was over. We wanted more life - and production - out of him. And we let him know about it. We turned him so inside out that he ultimately blamed the Fenway turf for his problem.

So what's the point? Who knows how the crowd ultimately makes its decision. There are many reasons, both rational and emotional. But one thing is sure. Buck's calling for Schill's head? Not going to happen. The Crowd knows better.