The routines that keep us grounded. The rituals that keep the world sane.

Wade Boggs has chicken. And, oh, so much more.

Baseball players, as a rule, are a little more quirky than most of us, anyway. Always have been. Their rituals routinely cross the border into the murky realm of superstition.

`I don't think it's just baseball, I think it's true with anything,` said Tampa Bay Devil Rays manager Larry Rothschild, who might dance the polka to avoid stepping on a base line. `I think a lot of it has to do with, first of all, the confidence that it gives you. A lot of the rituals in baseball are routines more than rituals. ... And I think the routines help you get to that area more than anything else.`

It's bad luck to pack the equipment before the final out is made. It's good luck to stick a wad of bubble gum on top of a teammate's hat. It's bad luck to discuss a potential no-hitter while it's in progress.

Why? Because it is.

They go on and on, more than a century's worth of irrational phobias and layer upon layer of time-honored folklore.

And Boggs is the chicken- chomping champion of chronic routine.

You know about the chicken. He eats it every day. He has for a long time. Ever since he and his wife, Debbie, were a young married couple with a major-league dream struggling along in the minor leagues.

It began as a matter of financial necessity. Chicken was cheaper than beef. Five-plus years in the minors sometimes forces that kind of culinary choice.

By the time Boggs reached the majors in 1982, it no longer was a choice. Debbie became an expert with the bird, even publishing a cookbook, `Fowl Tips,` shortly after Boggs' passion for poultry became part of the superstitious fabric of baseball.

`Anybody who can cook chicken every day for 18 years deserves the Nobel Peace Prize,` Boggs said. `I think when I retire, the American Poultry Association will go into mourning.`

What will he eat after baseball?

`I don't know. It won't be chicken every day,` Boggs said. `I can assure you of that.`

Boggs' penchant for palatable pullet is well-documented. The initiated fan might also be aware of his ritualistic drawing of the letters for the Hebrew word chai, meaning life, in the dirt with his cleat before every at-bat.

There are others. Many others. Dozens of wonderfully eccentric rituals and mannerisms that have helped make him the player he has been for 17 major league seasons.

Ask him what time he leaves the house for a night game at Tropicana Field.

The answer: `Oh, around 1:47 in the afternoon.`

When he reaches the ball park, the routine carries into the clubhouse and onto the field.

Rookie infielder David Lamb became a part of Boggs' routine when the veteran asked him early in spring training if he wanted to warm up. They play catch nearly every day now before batting practice and for a few seconds in front of the dugout during pregame introductions.

`It's kind of cool,` Lamb said, `because I can tell my buddies back home that my job is to play catch with Wade Boggs.`

As the Rays play catch in the outfield before batting practice, Boggs always is the player closest to the infield. He will glance over his shoulder at the clock in center field, keeping tabs on the time.

When it reaches 4:37, he sprints toward third base, making sure to touch second on the way. Then he waits for a coach to begin hitting ground balls his way.

After warm-ups and batting practice, Boggs heads to the dugout, making a point to tap third-base coach Greg Riddoch's leg. He also taps hands with Rothschild and first-base coach Billy Hatcher.

In the inner sanctum of the clubhouse, he dresses at the prescribed time and begins to visualize elements of the game. Later, during the national anthem, he shuffles back and forth on his feet.

If he plays third, he is the first player to sprint out of the dugout. He leaps over the first- base line on his way to third

.Once there, he searches the ground for three rocks or pebbles and tosses them off the field. Between pitches, this is the standard routine: swipe the dirt in front of him with his left foot, tap his glove two or three times, adjust the cap.

Finally, he ends his day with another culinary variation: two hot dogs, a bag of Lay's barbecue potato chips and a glass of iced tea.

He does these things in a seemingly unconscious manner. The routine is well-known in baseball circles, and even his opponents' efforts to break it up have become legendary.

Such as the time in Toronto, when someone upstairs stopped the stadium's clock at 4:36, then jumped it ahead to 4:38. Boggs let that one slide.

Then there was the time when a catcher tried to scratch out Boggs' good-luck sign. Boggs became agitated, so the umpire warned the catcher, `Don't mess with his sign.`

Does it work? Do all the rituals and mannerisms and idiosyncrasies and peculiarities make Boggs the player he is?

He has 3,000 reasons to believe so.

BOGGLING SUPERSTITIONS

A partial list of Wade Boggs' daily and pregame rituals:

* His diet includes chicken in nearly every meal.

* Leaves home for Tropicana Field at precisely 1:47 p.m.

* Plays warm-up game of catch with rookie shortstop David Lamb, and during that game of catch, always situates himself closest to the infield, facing the first-base line.

* When the center field clock at Tropicana Field strikes 4:37 p.m., he sprints toward third base, making sure to touch second base on the way.

* Once in position at third base, he waits for a coach to begin hitting warm-up ground balls.

* Once pregame warm-ups are complete, he makes a point of tapping third-base coach Greg Riddoch on the leg and tapping fists with first- base coach Billy Hatcher and manager Larry Rothschild.

* During pregame introduction of the Devil Rays lineup, he plays catch with Lamb again, always with his back to home plate.

* During the playing or singing of the national anthem, he shuffles his feet back and forth.

* When in the lineup as anything but the designated hitter, he is the first player out of the dugout as the Devil Rays take their positions to begin the game.

* As he runs to his position, he leaps over the base line. As he returns to the dugout between innings, he steps on the base line.

* Once he reaches his position (usually third base), he searches for three pebbles in the dirt and tosses them off the field.

* Between pitches, his routine is the same: swipe the dirt in front of him with his left foot, tap his glove two or three times, adjust his hat.

* When he comes to the plate to hit, he draws letters denoting the word chai - Hebrew for `life` - in the dirt with his cleat for luck.

* He goes to the plate with a piece of gum in his mouth. If he gets a hit, the gum stays in his mouth. If he makes an out, the gum goes.

* After the game, he goes home to a late supper of two hot dogs, a bag of barbecue potato chips and a glass of iced tea.

Compiled by Carter Gaddis