Maybe i read it wrong or am remembering incorrectly. I thought in his “reverse jinx” Ortiz column, he was in the NO PED’s status.

The steroid whispers started quickly. By late April, every conversation I had with a Sox fan seemed to include a “We need to mail Papi some HGH” joke. It was an easy leap for a couple of reasons: First, his power numbers leapt like Obama’s Q rating from 2003 to 2007. Second, he’s Dominican, and more than a few of his brethren — Sammy Sosa, Miguel Tejada, Guillermo Mota — have been in the center of PED controversies. Third, they sell steroids over the counter in the DR like they’re Bubblicious. And fourth, baseball has reached a depressing point in which power hitters are presumed guilty until proven innocent.

When Manny Ramírez was suspended for trying to jump-start ovaries he didn’t have, many Sox fans (including me) assumed we had our unhappy answer for Papi’s demise. We braced for Ortiz to be linked to a bombshell headline that began with the words "Former Sox Clubhouse Attendant … " But one thing nagged at me: He wasn’t belting bombs that were dying at the warning track like so many other former ’roiders. He just looked old. It reminded me of watching Jim Rice fall apart in the late ’80s, when he lost bat speed overnight the way you and I lose a BlackBerry. That was painful too.

By mid-May, I was pondering another theory: Maybe Papi was older than he claimed. In Seth Mnookin’s book Feeding the Monster, he recounts the story of how Boston nearly blew the chance to acquire Ortiz because they were concerned that he was much older than the media guide said. GM Theo Epstein asked Bill James to study Papi’s numbers, and when James concluded the peaks and valleys were consistent with a man of Ortiz’s stated age, they rolled the dice. The rest is history.

Well, what if James was wrong? How many Latin players have been exposed for lying about their ages in the past few years? Hell, one of Papi’s best friends — Tejada — was found to have cut two years off his birth certificate when he was 17, er, 19 … you get the point. Watching Papi flounder now, I’d believe he’s really 36 or 37 (not 33) before I’d believe PEDs are responsible. In a recent game in Minnesota, he couldn’t catch up to an 89 mph fastball. Repeat: 89 mph!

That’s what happens to beefy sluggers on their way out: Their knees go, they stiffen up, bat speed slows and, in the blink of an eye, they’re done. Beefy sluggers are like porn stars, wrestlers, NBA centers and trophy wives: When it goes, it goes. You know right away.

So that’s my theory. I think he’s old(er).