BOSTON — If Jim Rice was back home in South Carolina on Monday, he would be playing golf and not waiting for a phone call.

But he won't be in South Carolina; he’ll be in Boston. So, instead, he’ll be watching soap operas and not waiting for a phone call.

That phone call the former Red Sox slugger isn’t waiting for is the one that hasn’t come in 14 years. If he gets it, Jim Rice — in his 15th and final year of eligibility in the writers’ vote — will have been elected by into The National Baseball Hall of Fame.

If he doesn’t, his name comes off the ballot and he won’t be eligible for induction until the Veterans Committee is allowed to take up his case five years from now.

The announcement will be made Monday at 2 p.m. But Rice, having been disappointed so often in the past, isn’t getting his hopes up.

“I’m not thinking about. It’s not on my mind,” he said firmly when speaking to reporters last week before the Boston Baseball Writers Dinner. “Why think about it? Why should it be on your mind? The votes are in, it’s going to happen on Monday and you let it go. There’s nothing to really think about. I’ve been there before . . . so why think about it now?”

Rice needs to be named on 75 percent of the ballots to earn induction. Last year he fell just short, with 72.2 percent.

He admits he doesn’t know how he’ll react if he finally gets in.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll have to wait until it happens. I don’t think anyone can tell you their honest opinion and how they felt when they got the call. With a sure guy, like Cal Ripken, they probably had everything planned. But I can’t plan anything because I don’t know. It might be different if I knew I was a sure thing.”

When pressed further, Rice admitted he would think about it Sunday night, before the announcement, but wouldn't allow himself to get too excited.

“I’m not getting my levels too high or too low,” he said. “I’m trying to stay in between.”

Rice has said publicly – many times – he believes he deserves a plaque at Cooperstown. It almost seems like his sense of expectation has diminished over the years.

In any case, he adds, there are more important things to worry about.

“Anytime you can get up in the morning and you can breathe, and you find your kids and family is okay, that’s all you can take care of,” he said. “It’s not going to change anything. It’s not going to change me. I think it will change the people who want your service more than anything else. It means I might have to spend a little more time on the road.”

Members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America control the first level of induction the Hall of Fame with their vote; after a five-year waiting period, players are on the writers’ ballot for 15 years. Even though Rice hit 382 home runs during his career, which was spent entirely in Boston, drove in 1,451 runs, recorded a .298 average and collected 2,452 hits, he’s come up short each time in the voting.

But former players and teammates, among them Bob Montgomery and Fred Lynn, have said they believe Rice deserves to be in.

“You’re talking about players who have played the game, where you have a lot of writers who have never played the game,” said Rice. “So [players] know, or have an idea, what it took and what you had to do to get yourself into the situation I’m in. Those guys know how hard it was to go out and perform every day. I went out there every day for 15 years.”

 Even if Rice is playing coy and isn’t really thinking about his last chance, he already has his day planned.

“I’m going to watch my soap opera from 12:30 to 1:30,” he said. “If the call comes in at 2 o’clock, then I’ll be available. But I’m not going to change anything. Why should you change the things you’ve been doing all your life? I’m not going to change anything.

“If it happens, it happens.”