HAVE you heard about The David Wells Diet? It is very simple. You get to eat everything but your words.
Those, you blame on someone else.
It has worked for David Wells all these years, and it can work for you, too.
It allows you to eat, drink and say anything you want.
Then, all you need to do is win more ballgames than you lose.
And find scapegoats. Plenty of them.
The first part, of course, is the tough part.
The second part is easy.
Wells, for one, has them both down to a science.
Right now, Wells is in the process of eating, drinking and talking himself off his sixth team in the last seven seasons.
And he might be on his way back to New York.
This, we should welcome with (wide) open arms.
Because if there’s anything we love more than a winner, it’s a blowhard.
Once again, David Wells is a dual qualifier. Like many horses.
Before this season, the White Sox got David Wells for virtually nothing from the Blue Jays, for whom he won 20 games last season.
Still, the Jays were glad to be rid of him, because if there’s anything David Wells can wear out faster than a carpet, it’s a welcome.
Now, eight weeks into 2001, the White Sox are looking to dump David Wells.
If we are lucky, they will dump him right into the toxic waste dump by Flushing Bay known as Shea Stadium.
If there is one thing the Mets need, it’s pitching.
If there is another, it’s personality. It needn’t be pleasant.
With Wells, rest assured it won’t be.
Wells’ mastery of the art of pitching is rivaled only by his command of the science of finger-pointing, blame-laying, pouting and scapegoating.
He throws a tantrum as well as he throws a fastball.
And when things go wrong, it is never, ever David Wells’ fault.
He styles himself a headbanging renegade biker-dude, but spends an awful lot of time cozying up to celebrities.
He fancies himself the type who says whatever is on his mind.
Then, when it turns out he has said the wrong thing, you have never seen a 300-pounder backpedal so fast.
During the 1998 World Series, David Wells, renegade, decided to kiss up to Howard Stern by “guaranteeing” the Yankees would sweep the San Diego Padres.
But when Renegade Wells saw his words plastered on the back page of the city’s tabloids, his tattoos ran cold.
Predictably, he blamed the media for Blowing Things Out of Proportion.
He said columnists were Trying to Stir Things Up.
He claimed his words were Taken Out of Context.
He threatened to cut off the press for the remainder of the Series.
However, one thing we all know about David Wells is that around a bar, a buffet table or a reporter, he can’t keep his mouth shut.
So he does the next best thing. He blames the messenger.
Last year, Sports Illustrated put David Wells, in mid-delivery, on its cover.
Believe it or not, he looked a trifle overweight.
“Not my fault,” howled David Wells. Instead, he blamed the writer, Jeff Pearlman. He said the editors had airbrushed his photo. He claimed the magazine had it in for him.
Never once did he look at his self-proclaimed health regimen of beer and Doritos.
This winter, he blamed the blasted Toronto GM, Gord Ash, for not telling him he’d been traded to Chicago.
Turns out Wells was unreachable in New Zealand on his honeymoon at the time.
During spring training, he decided to share his opinion of Joe Torre, who, Wells decided, had nothing to do with those four Yankees World Championships. No, Clueless Joe was just along for the ride.
This year, he blasted teammate Frank Thomas for being gutless. Turned out the guy had a torn biceps muscle.
And then just last week, Wells revealed that he and Bobby Valentine won’t be double-dating anytime soon.
“A loser,” Wells told Playboy.com. “A [bleep].”
Why? Because Valentine tried to sneak back into the dugout in a disguise after having been ejected from a game Wells was pitching.
“There’s no love lost between us,” Wells said.
This was news to Valentine, since he’s barely spoken to the guy.
But now, maybe Bobby and Boomer will get a chance to talk it out.
The Mets say they will not allow anything that has come out of David Wells’ mouth deter them from trying to squeeze Wells into one of their uniforms.
Besides, since Wells is probably not going anywhere until the July trading deadline, he has plenty of time to do what he does best.
Find a scapegoat. Lay some blame. Point a finger. Threaten a reporter. Throw a tantrum.
I, for one, can’t wait to hear what he comes up with this time.
And no matter what it is, I, unlike Wells, refuse to take it personally.
You see, the David Wells Diet is the direct opposite of the David Wells Diatribe.
One is garbage in. The other is garbage out.
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WELLS’ CAREER STATISTICS (chart)
