Continuing the celebration of Joe Torre's ascention to The Hall: From the Book of Joe...THE STORY OF DAVID

Rejoice now in the story of the quirky giant, David Wells, who in the annum 2003 inked unto print his long-awaited memoirs, and whose quill etched dark secrets from the House of George.

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According to the Book of David, his famous Game of Perfection five summers earlier, had been rendered while the called Boomer was healing from a night of grape gleanings and rank tomfoolery.

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According to the Book, his warrior team was swallowing unlawful elixirs to thicken themselves with devil-forged muscle.

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Stunned and violated by Boomer’s false testimony, the Yankees fell into fume and distemper.

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After seven days and nights, Joe appeareth unto the foam-tongued scribe and spake:

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“Hear me, o, Boomer!

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“Ye hath braked the Code of Muteness that Yanks have loved since the time of Sparky Lyle. For mere pieces of silver, ye have blown whistles and betrayed the House of George!

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“I condemn thee, I denounce thee, I rebuke thee.

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“Ye shall be fined a hundred thousand goats. And ye shall smell the stench that ye hath farted upon all who cherish silence.

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“This I do decree!”

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And so it did transpire.

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David, stoned and buttery beneath his pinstriped sackcloth, called a conference of news and spake:

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“Hear me, o, world!

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“I renounce the claim that I birthed my Game of Perfection following an eve of refrocked virgins and jello-shots of meadfire.

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“I renounce the claim that some players of game chewed vitamins of deceit to fortify themselves with counterfeit spine.

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“I renounce myself for being a bald and larded lout, a clown who hath penned bile in the hope of bedding runway vixens with my unremarkable staff.

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“O, I damn myself. I rebuke myself. All in range of my voice, know ye that I am of puke and gulp. And I am not just spaking this. I mean each word. Really. Truly. I doth. Verily. OK. Turn off thy phones of mic. Unspool thy cameras. Now. Doth thou not hear? We be endeth. Hey, you holes of ass, becalm thy fuckin-”

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And among some doubters, the winds whispered that Boomer’s new testimony was born not from self-loath, but deceit. And writers called for Joe to replace Boomer with the rising God of Eternal Potential, Jeff Weaver, son of Kaminecki.

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And for a fortnight, the bejeweled Weaver did assume Boomer’s seat within the House of George.

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Then, one day, Joe appeareth unto David and spake:

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"OK, o, listenup, Boomer, listenup!

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“I hath come to see ye as not a cancer upon the Yanks, but a delightful maker of mirth.

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“And I hath come to see Jeff Weaver being hammered each time his surfer frame ascends the mound of pitch.

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“Ye shall reassume thy place in the rotation. This I do decree!”

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And so did it transpire.

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And Boomer led the Yankees to the Flag of the League.

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And Boomer vanquished the Bostonites in a great Yank victory.

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But during the Series of the World, a bulge in David's back-cake snapped his spirit hymen. And Boomer could not hurl against the Marlins.

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And the House of George was defeated.

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And the guessings of seconds soon seeded boils upon Boomer’s supple breasts.

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And Boomer renounced his ties to the House of George.

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And he took vows as a Padre in the kingdom of San Diego.

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There, his quill would never again see censor. And there, he brought filth unto the End of his Daze.