New York Yankee's David Wells' Criticism of Joe Torre Unfair

As an eager baseball world begins reading Joe Torre's book, The Yankee Years, rumored to be a tell-all depiction of the behind the scenes interactions within the Yankee clubhouse, David Wells, the journeyman pitcher more famous for his drunken carousing than his exemplary pitching, has responded to the early release information with distain and anger. While each person can read and reach a personal evaluation of the Torre's words, communicated with the help of Sport Illustrated's Tom Verducci, Wells has done so without ingesting any of the actual text; how could he, it has yet to hit bookstores. Instead, he has taken in the publisher-released info, clearly designed to incite emotion and enhance early sales, and launched into a mini tirade about Torre's intentional destruction of the locker room "code", and he went as far to say that he would "knock out" his former manager if he saw him in a bar. David Wells, in his attempt to protect the sanctity of baseball, something he shunned continuously throughout his twenty-one seasons in the big leagues, has neglected to consider his own bruised past. Thus, he is a rather rotund pot called a well-respected kettle black, and he has once again, not surprisingly enough, allowed his unintelligent machismo to slip out of a mouth momentarily not filled with a double bacon cheeseburger and the remnants of a frothed head off a pint of Guinness.

Wells, an outstanding left-handed pitcher who, at times, showed signs of sheer brilliance on the mound, compiled a set of career statistics that demand numerical respect. With a well-spotted fastball and knee-buckling breaking pitch, Wells worked his way over two decades to a combined total of 239 wins, which is a .604 winning percentage, with a 4.13 earned run average. Competing in three All Star games and eleven post seasons, Wells averaged 14 wins a year, and won a career best 20 games with the Toronto Blue Jays in 2000. Although finishing with a losing post season record, 8 wins and 9 losses with six different teams, he did play in two World Series, ironically enough under the guidance of the "punk" Joe Torre, with the New York Yankees in 1998 and 2003. Considering numbers such as these, even the most uninformed fan would have to respect what he accomplished on the field.

However, the concept of respect, one that runs far deeper than mere athletic performance, evades the 250 lb. pitcher from Ocean Beach, California. Much like Manny Ramirez, David Wells' off the field antics have antagonized many, including his former ultra-patient manager Torre, and have labeled him a necessary nuisance. Kept around for his pitching, Wells' former teams, all ten of them, have creativity dealt with his abrupt selfishness and complete disregard for anything team-related. While he professes to have been the ultimate clubhouse guy, one who upholds the traditions of the game and serves as a silent agent when asked to dish on his teammates, the truth remains that he in fact is not what he claims. Purity does not exist as a color, or even a shade, in the David Wells life portrait, and blind loyalty dies a quick death in the bowels of his questionable character. How else can someone explain for a pitcher with his career statistics to have played with so many teams? Clearly something made them get rid of him.

Like Torre, Wells has found himself playing ball in the literary world, as his book, Perfect I'm Not: Boomer on Beer, Brawls, Backaches, and Baseball, debuted in March of 2003. Within the 432 pages, Wells recounts a life that began in economic poverty and has continued in moral and ethical strife. Although he once broke his sister's jaw because she scratched his sun-burned neck, the irony surrounding his commentary about Joe Torre begins as he unearths clubhouse secrets, hence breaking the "code" himself. Whether making pointed comments about steroid use amongst his former teammates or hammering the near-legendary general manager Pat Gillick, Wells sells out those close to him in the game. Maybe he needed the money and the publishers promised a nice payday in return for juicy content. Maybe he legitimately hated those he burned in the book. Either way, he did exactly what Torre has done: he told a story from his career. The only difference between the two is that Torre criticized Wells, and David the Great cannot seem to take it.

Yet Wells continues to persist, to refute the idea of quiet retirement to instead lash out when disruption is required. His voice, which possesses no true respect or intelligent recognition across the sporting spectrum, rumbles opportunistically, as if to reignite his once hung-over glory. Talking out of both sides of his mouth, he fails to recall his injected criticisms that blasted fellow major leaguers, such as his public condemnation of Roger Clemens' contract contingencies when rejoining the Yankees in 2007. He inferred that Clemens' deal, which permitted him to not travel with the team if he was not schedule to pitch during that time, failed to take into account the team, thus singling Clemens out as a selfish, non-committed part of the club. Wells, angered by the fact that Clemens had received special treatment, eagerly commented to a hungry press corps. Had he truly wished to honor the "code" of the game, Wells would have passed on his remarks, and instead claimed that Roger's contract was between him and the Yankees. Also, if he really had grave concerns about Clemens and the deal the pitcher accepted, why did he not call and address those views privately, just as Wells suggests Torre should have done? Certainly he had the right to have an opinion, but to publicize his criticism and then, years later, call out Torre for a similar offense seems a touch two-faced.

In the end, Wells, a man who pitched a perfect game in Yankee Stadium to only later reveal he did so hung over from a drinking spree the night before, has condemned a man who spent the best years of his career managing in a clubhouse that came complete with the world's largest lightning rode. Torre, without question, deflect numerous issues, protecting his players innumerable times. In all likelihood, Torre shielded Wells, for we know of his endless antics, from the unrelenting New York press, and he did so all the while maintaining the dignity and pride of the Yankees and the clubhouse.

Players can often complain in the press and receive complete forgiveness, for they were frustrated or whatever. Players can do drugs or steroids, only to return to the game and be applauded for their recovery. Players can call out teammates and say they were only doing it to light a fire and because they cared so much. But a manager, a year after leaving an environment that showed him a disrespectful end, cannot reflect on his experiences and offer personal opinion without the same free grace? A manager, who personalized the losses, handled the press, conducted himself with a refined professionalism, cannot say that some players were more difficult than others? He cannot tell the listening world his side of the Yankee story, after spending time being accused by players of racist practices and favoritism? Unfair to say the least.

Six weeks from now, when Torre takes his Dodgers into spring training and Wells rides his motorcycle to another bar, people will have read the book and probably come to the realization that the early press releases were done to generate a buzz and increase sales. They will see that the job of Yankee manager is not so enjoyable, and they will learn that Torre is a much more introspective, intelligent, and respectful man than the flippant David Wells.

Sources:

http://www.baseball-reference.com/w/wellsda01.shtml

http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Im-Not-Backaches-Baseball/dp/0060508248