Andrew McCutchen isn’t backing down as doubts grow about his Pirates future

PiratesFest is less than a week away. Spring training is less than a month away. And Andrew McCutchen still doesn’t have a contract.

That alone feels jarring. For so many years, McCutchen’s presence in Pittsburgh has been a constant — first as the face of a renaissance, later as the connective tissue between eras, and most recently as the heartbeat of a clubhouse still trying to remember what winning feels like. Even in seasons when the Pirates were going nowhere, there was comfort in knowing No. 22 would still be there.

But this offseason is different. The roster is different. And for the first time in this chapter of McCutchen’s career, sentiment is colliding head-on with structure.

Bringing McCutchen back as a full-time designated hitter is harder to justify now. The Pirates didn’t add Ryan O’Hearn and Brandon Lowe to block at-bats for players they believe can help them win. At the same time, the organization has been hesitant to deploy McCutchen as an everyday defender, citing age, workload and preservation. The middle ground that once existed — rotate him, protect him, keep him fresh — is shrinking.

That tension spilled into public view this week.

After former teammate Michael McKenry posted on X encouraging the Pirates to bring McCutchen back, Cutch replied with a GIF of a man waiting by the phone. It was funny. It was self-aware. And it was quietly heavy. A franchise icon, still unsigned, waiting.

Then came Monday.

“It is really funny how so many ppl say I ‘Can’t(key word) play defense,’” McCutchen posted on X. “I haven’t played much defense because they haven’t asked that of me […] Bottom line is if it is needed, I can not only do it, but do it like Ive been out there all year.”

The message wasn’t subtle. This wasn’t nostalgia talking. This was a competitor pushing back against the idea that he’s become something fragile. This was a player refusing to let the story of his decline be written for him.

Andrew McCutchen believes he can still be part of the solution in Pittsburgh

McCutchen isn’t begging for a farewell tour. He’s making a case. He’s saying: Don’t reduce me to a ceremonial DH. Don’t pretend I’ve forgotten how to track a ball or read a bat. Don’t turn “hasn’t been asked” into “can’t.” If there’s a spot, if there’s a need, if there’s a role — he’s still ready to fill it.

That matters, because the conversation around McCutchen has shifted in tone. It’s no longer just about whether fans want him back. Of course they do. It’s about whether there is room for him on a roster that is, for once, trying to operate like a real major league team.

And that’s the uncomfortable truth. The Pirates are finally building with intention. They’re not just plugging holes with nostalgia and vibes. They’re shaping a lineup that’s supposed to compete. In that world, even legends have to fit.

McCutchen knows that. You can hear it in the edge of his words. He’s not demanding anything be given to him. He’s pushing back against the idea that he no longer belongs on merit.

This isn’t a goodbye tour. It’s a standoff between time and identity.

For the Pirates, the question isn’t whether Andrew McCutchen means enough. He already does. The question is whether they believe he still fits.

And for McCutchen, the message is clear: Don't count him out. Don't write the ending without him. And don't confuse opportunity with ability.