BOSTON – In the grand tradition of “Animal House,” the anti-motto of “fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son” worked well for the band of idiots that ran amok in the Red Sox clubhouse for most of the last three seasons.

Now that Johnny Damon, Kevin Millar, and Bronson Arroyo have been kicked off campus and squeaky clean veterans like J.T. Snow, Mike Lowell, and Mark Loretta have moved in, we’ll just have to see how “slow, safe, and boring is no way to go through life, son,” plays for the Red Sox in 2006.

Odds are, we have no instant classic on our hands here. The trick will be to see if the club’s rabid fan base can stand short-term mediocrity (by recent standards) this season for sustainable excellence in the years to come. For the notoriously pessimistic Red Sox fan still trying to reconcile a World Series title in 2004 with a lifetime of angst, this is going to pose a significant challenge.

The current level of disgust for Damon (or “Demon,” as most remaining unburned no. 18 Red Sox jerseys have been re-lettered) should come as no great shock, simply for the fact that he fell to the dark side and accepted the filthy lucre from the wallet of the evil emperor, George Steinbrenner.

Of course, the Red Sox never had any intention of waging a bidding war over Damon, and even if he neatly fills a glaring hole in the Yankees’ lineup and thrives in the Bronx, there was little looking back from the Sox’ front office. But because Damon was so popular with fans and so good, his donning of the pinstripes has provoked a commensurate reaction of bile and loathing that will erupt just before the first pitch is thrown to Damon on May 1 at Fenway Park.

When Millar, the ultimate merry prankster of them all, signed with the Orioles, there was barely an acknowledgment from the front office about the value of his high jinks in keeping the ego-laden squad loose for three years. Fans did not care, either, not with the lasting image of a .399 slugging percentage last season.

Arroyo’s hometown discount of a contract – three years, $11.25 million – as well as the club’s realization that he would probably never get much better meant the corn-rowed rocker had to be dealt. Again, no great outcry from around here.

The other significant departures – backup catcher Doug Mirabelli was traded to the Padres, third baseman Bill Mueller signed with the Dodgers, and shortstop Edgar Renteria was dumped on the Braves – along with the trade of prospects that netted Josh Beckett and Lowell from Florida, resulted in a dizzying remolding of the 2005 team. A quick glance at the replacements – Coco Crisp for Damon, Kevin Youkilis and Snow for Millar, Josh Bard for Mirabelli, Lowell for Mueller, Loretta for Mark Bellhorn/Tony Graffanino, Alex Gonzalez for Renteria – reveals a thought process from a front office that has its eyes on 2007 and beyond rather than going for broke in 2006.

In Lowell, Loretta, Snow, and Gonzalez, the Red Sox get a brand new infield loaded with defensively gifted veterans, each signed through this coming season only.

In Crisp, Pena, Beckett, and Youkilis, the Red Sox have a group of players – especially the first three – with talent upsides as significant as the unknowns about reaching their potential. Each of them, however, has at least two years of eligibility left before free agency, and together they are young enough to keep the aging pitching staff (Curt Schilling, 39; Tim Wakefield, 39; Mike Timlin, 40; David Wells, 43 in May) from keeping the clubhouse stereo stuck on classic rock mixes.

Ah, the clubhouse.

For the last three seasons, the mix of personalities, ethnicities, and temperaments has been a constant source of storylines. This spring, with Manny Ramirez essentially silent after his late arrival and Wells making mostly harmless remarks about the commissioner and his manager, the clubhouse has taken on the feel of your local bank branch. Loretta, Lowell, Snow, and Crisp are all affable, unfailingly polite, and careful as can be so far, with Gonzalez a non-talker and Beckett about the only newcomer with what can be fairly labeled an edge.

It’s still too early to say just what the new personality of the team will be, but the front office will not be sorry to see it veer back toward the corporate model provided by the Yankees. The kookiness was only tolerable because it was accompanied by three consecutive postseasons.

Now, the makeover of the roster shouts “rebuilding” at a time when no one in Boston is even listening. Bostonians are still in love with the 2004 team and seem willing to suspend disbelief once again. The level of interest in the team remains at intoxicating levels, and that is why, as this 2006 edition nears readiness, the abundant reasons to worry about the Sox’ chances to make the postseason – Schilling and Keith Foulke’s durability; Wells’s and Ramirez’s moods; Crisp’s unproven ability to hit leadoff; Pena’s alarming strikeout rate; Timlin’s workload; Lowell and Snow’s offense; Youkilis’s unknowns; Gonzalez’s offense; Beckett’s health; the uncertainties about bullpen newcomers Rudy Seanez, Julian Tavarez, David Riske – are impossible to ignore.

Yet they are being ignored, as is the glaring fact that the team has just eight contracts signed beyond this season. The Red Sox are trying to get younger but they certainly haven’t gotten much better than the team that overachieved in order to reach the playoffs last year.

So far, the fans are taking everything in stride. Things are just great with the Red Sox: Theo Epstein’s back, the front office is clicking, no injuries to report at spring training, Fenway’s getting new seats, and everyone’s just cuckoo for Coco.

Wait until the offense gets exposed for being thin or a starter breaks down or the bullpen goes searching for a closer when Foulke implodes. When the going gets tough, the teeth gnashing and knife-sharpening will commence. The natives will get restless, and they’ll be looking for scapegoats. They won’t be able to help themselves. It’s just who they are. It’s in their blood.

Mr. Silverman covers the Red Sox for the Boston Herald.