THEY WROTE OFF PUJOLS, UNTIL HE TOOK THE PEN AND AUTHORED AN EPIC ENDING

Even more triumphant than the slugger’s pursuit of 700 home runs, at age 42 (44?), was his refusal to quit early last season when the Los Angeles Angels assumed he was washed up

     He was crippled, bloated and a financial albatross, a symbol of why 10-year contracts are nonsensical for baseball players spanning their 30s. Or so the boogeymen thought. The sport tried to make an example of Albert Pujols, and if he’d let them control the narrative early last season — never mind that he’s one of the greatest right-handed sluggers ever, capable of ripping a liner in a coma — the escape hatch to retirement was open.

     “It’s about what’s best for the organization moving forward,’’ said Perry Minasian, the rookie general manager who cut a legend.

     Instead, as he departed the dysfunctional Los Angeles Angels and silly-impulsive owner Arte Moreno, Pujols chose to declare his own career exit terms. He trekked 31 miles up the freeway, to Dodger Stadium, where he helped stabilize the clubhouse with his regal presence and returned to the postseason at last. Just when it seemed no other offers were coming, that his time was up, there would be one more stop this season. Magically, he was whisked back to St. Louis for kismet’s sake and a final go-around with the club of his lethal youth, in the city he never should have left in 2011 before the bubbly had dried in his second World Series celebration with the Cardinals.

     The lesson: He refused to fade away until he was ready. If that is where the story stopped, it already was triumphant. But Pujols had a grander end game in mind, one of the damndest farewells we’ve seen in a sport often unkind to greats who linger well into their 40s. With a late-season power barrage no one saw coming, including himself, he has transformed into the dominant hitter who — pause for a sabergeek note — never had an OPS+ below 150 in his first 10 seasons, a trail unmatched by Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle, among others. Every swing is a pose for a wax museum.

     Cooperstown waits as well, not only for a new, unexpected display but his eventual induction speech. With magnificent flair, as his 43rd birthday approaches, Pujols finds himself three home runs from becoming the fourth player in major-league history to hit 700. Only Bonds (762), Aaron (755) and Ruth (714) amassed more. Better, the Cardinals are positioned for a possible postseason run that includes two other OGs from their 2006 championship team, pitcher Adam Wainwright and catcher Yadier Molina.

     Is this really happening as autumn nears in 2022?

     “I’m blessed, man. It’s pretty special. I think I’m aware of where I am in the history of this game,” Pujols said after clubbing his 696th, tying Alex Rodriguez on the list. “But at the end of the day, 21 years ago when I make the ballclub, that wasn't something that I was chasing. Twenty-two years later, I don't think I'm going to change my approach. I'm going to let things happen and try to enjoy it. If it happens, it happens. If not, at the end of the day, I think everyone, including myself, are pretty blessed with the career that I have.”

     Oh, No. 700 is going to happen. But even cooler is what happened after he hit his 697th in Pittsburgh. After he moved past Rodriguez, the couple that caught the historic ball tried to return it. Pujols let them keep it and gifted them two more signed balls. “It’s just a baseball. They deserve to have it. It went out of the ballpark,” he said. “We play this game for the fans. So whether they want to give it back or they want to keep it, I don’t have any problem with that. I think it means more for that girl than for me having it in my trophy case.”

     I’m guessing he’ll keep the 700 ball. The barrier could fall as soon as this weekend in Busch Stadium, where the Cardinals host five games in a festive environment against the lowly Cincinnati Reds. It’s football season in America, and Aaron Judge is staging his own home-run record chase in New York, but the eyeballs of sports are on Pujols.

     “There's impressive, and then there's unbelievable," Cardinals manager Oliver Marmol said. "And what we're witnessing right now is absolutely legendary. … There are times in this game where you take a step back from being locked in and you get to be a fan for a minute and experience it the way everyone else is. You take a moment and take it all in, because what he’s doing is absolutely incredible.”

     “We’re just kind of, like, living in his shadow right now. He’s incredible,” Wainwright said. “This is the way he’s supposed to look, here inside this stadium doing the usual great things. The other 10 years, I don’t know what happened. The 12 I’ve seen him here, he’s been pretty good.”

     Said teammate Paul Goldschmidt, whose MVP-caliber season has been preempted by Pujols Fever: “What he’s doing is superhuman. He should be a unanimous Hall of Famer.”

     The only downer in an uplifting drama are the predictable hot takes: He must be cheating and using performance-enhancing drugs. This isn’t the first time Pujols has been accused; after he left St. Louis, ex-Cardinal Jack Clark was on a talk show and echoed the opinion of the host, Kevin Slaten, that Pujols “has been a juicer.” Said Clark: “I know for a fact he was. The trainer from Kansas City that worked with him, threw him batting practice and worked him out every day ... basically told me that's what he did.” When Pujols’ personal trainer, Chris Mihlfeld, said he hadn’t spoken to Clark in 10 years and added substance — “His statements are simply not true. I have known Albert Pujols since he was 18 years old and he would never use illegal drugs in any way. I would bet my life on it and probably drop dead on the spot if I found out he has,” he said — Pujols sued for defamation, then dropped the suit after Clark apologized.

     Now, here comes ESPN’s Max Kellerman, my former radio partner and TV colleague on “Around The Horn,” dropping sarcastic insinuations about Pujols without offering proof. Said Kellerman on “This Just In,’’ his daily show: “Bartender, I’ll have whatever he is having. He must be practicing more now, more than he did the last 10 years.” When Disney Company lawyers heard about it, Kellerman quickly apologized, saying, “I commented that he seemed to be hitting the ball much better than he has in a long time. Some, including Albert, inferred that my curiosity as to how he was achieving this recent level of success could only mean that he was benefiting from something other than a lot of hard work, practice, and his natural ability. For that, I apologize to Albert and the Cardinals’ organization.”

     Someone should test Kellerman for performance-detracting drugs.

     If it’s dangerous sledding to assume anything about a slugger in 2022 — whether he’s juicing or not — do acknowledge that Major League Baseball has cleaned up the lie of its Steroids Era with one of sport’s most stringent testing programs. I believe — or maybe I just want to believe — that Judge is clean as he nears Roger Maris’ non-PED, no-asterisk record of 61 homers in a single season. I’ll say the same about Pujols, if only because this is a fairy tale that baseball needs. Bring me proof. Until then, I’m embracing an epic.

     There is evidence of Pujols fraud in one sense. Suspicions remain that he fudged his age in the late 1990s, when prospects from the Dominican Republic pretended to be younger than their actual birthdates to maximize career earnings. Would the Angels have given him $254 million before the 2012 season if they thought he was older than his listed 32? “There is not one person in baseball, not one executive, who believes Albert Pujols is the age he says he is,” said former Miami Marlins executive David Samson, appearing on Dan Le Batard’s podcast.

     So, let’s say he’s 43 or 44. That makes the magnitude of his mission even more impressive, doesn’t it?

     The unfathomable becomes preposterous, right? And if Pujols delays retirement again to chase Ruth as Tom Brady with a 32-ounce bat, the preposterous becomes a sports story for all time. If it isn’t already.

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     Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.