Max Kepler’s PED suspension followed by Andrew McCutchen test proves nobody is safe

Apparently, in the year of our Lord 2026, Andrew McCutchen can’t even try to get five kids to church without Major League Baseball knocking on his door like it’s a parole check.

This is where we are now. Max Kepler gets popped for PEDs, and suddenly the message from the league is clear: No one is safe. Not even the 39-year-old franchise icon who isn’t even employed.

That’s right. McCutchen — free agent, elder statesman, human embodiment of “good vibes only” — is still getting ambushed by Comprehensive Drug Testing (CDT) at his house on a Sunday morning. Not during Spring Training. Not after a game. Not in a clubhouse. At home. With kids. With church plans. With a bladder that apparently did not meet MLB’s production quota.

“Nothing like the CDT coming to my house on a Sunday,” Cutch posted on X. “I got 5 kids and church. But let’s get that urine sample RQ unk.”

MLB still tests Andrew McCutchen for PEDs, and he's not even currently signed with a team

If you ever needed proof that MLB is deeply unserious about context, there it is. This is a man closer to a rocking chair than a steroid cycle, and the league is like, “Yeah, but what if he’s juicing between pancakes?”

And look, we get it. The system exists for a reason. The steroid era happened. Baseball had its collective face smashed into a mirror, and now everyone pays the price forever. Random testing. Zero tolerance. No exceptions.

But the comedy here is that McCutchen isn’t even on a roster.

He is a free agent. He does not belong to a team. He is not in camp. He is not in a lineup. He is, at present, just a dad in Pittsburgh trying to live his life while contemplating whether he has one more season left in his body.

And MLB still shows up like, “Good morning, sir. We are here for your urine.”

This is what Kepler’s suspension buys us. Not just accountability for players actively employed. Not just scrutiny of guys in their physical prime. No — it extends all the way to McCutchen, who has spent nearly two decades being one of the most visible, positive ambassadors this franchise has ever had. If he isn’t exempt from the 6 a.m. knock, nobody is.

McCutchen even shared that this isn’t new. He’s been tested on vacation. In hotel rooms. At Disney World. Because nothing says “magical family memories” like a league representative waiting for you to fill a cup.

“They do not care about your family time,” he wrote. “Need that urine.”

That line should be on a plaque in Cooperstown.

It’s darkly hilarious that the Pirates’ most beloved player of the modern era — the guy who helped drag this franchise out of irrelevance, who never wore another team’s colors until Pittsburgh let him go — is still being treated like a potential threat to the integrity of the sport.

That’s baseball in 2026. Ruthless efficiency. No nuance. No grace period. No “hey, maybe this guy has earned a little humanity.” Just a knock on the door. Cup in hand. Clock ticking.

And somewhere in Pittsburgh, Andrew McCutchen — franchise icon, free agent, father of five — is standing there thinking the same thing every Pirates fan is:

Man, even when you’re not on a team, this sport still finds a way to be exhausting.