David Ortiz tells a good story, spins a good yarn, and that's much of what good writing is all about, so his debut essay for the Players Tribune works well. A lot of what he says -- about Major League Baseball drug testing, allegations that Ortiz himself cheated and failed a test in 2003, and how his legacy has been affected -- was published already by other writers quoting Ortiz extensively. It's not like he's changing his story. It's still, "I haven't [knowingly] cheated."

Ortiz comes across as concise and funny, and a bit perturbed. He swears a lot, as he does in actual conversation. As far as style, he's a wee repetitive with his literary devices. "Let me tell you something," for example, you'll read half a dozen times. And he swears throughout the essay (NSFW!). But all of that is OK. The audience is frequently changing and perhaps, by using Derek Jeter's Tribune venture, he'll reach a new readership. And even good reporters aren't necessarily great writers, especially the first time out (even if Jeter gave Ortiz the incredulous title of "editor at large"). Well, he is big boned.

David Ortiz
'This is what you got on Papi. Zero!' (Getty)

The lead paragraphs contain most of the best parts, including the time this past winter when Ortiz heard a knock at the door early in the morning and thought someone was trying to rob him at his house in the Dominican Republic:

So I open the door.

"Sorry for the interruption, but we need to take some samples."

I'm looking at these guys like, "7:30 in the morning? Really, bro?"

So the guys come in with their equipment and start taking my blood in the kitchen. My kids are so used to this by now that they're laughing and taking pictures. This is nothing new. The one guy is sticking me with the needle while the other one is shooting the shit with me, telling me he's from Colorado.

"Warm down here!" he says.

"I didn't know you guys were coming," I say. "You gotta be more careful. This is the Dominican, bro."

"We're just doing our job," he says.

"Let me tell you something," I say. "The only thing you're going to find in my blood is rice and beans."

In some people's minds, I will always be considered a cheater. And that's bullshit. Mark my words: Nobody in MLB history has been tested for PEDs more than me. You know how many times I've been tested since 2004? More than 80. They say these tests are random. If it's really random, I should start playing the damn lottery. Some people still think the testing is a joke. It's no joke. Ten times a season these guys come into the clubhouse or my home with their briefcases. I have never failed a single one of those tests and I never will.

Really, bro? Even if you choose not to believe that Ortiz, who is said to have earned at least $127 million playing baseball, actually sat down and wrote all 2,400 or so words himself and didn't instead give dictation to a ghost writer, it's definitely Big Papi's voice. He's the one talking.

He takes some shots at the media, but they don't appear to be undeserved, or at least out of bounds. There was one in particular that he probably shouldn't have said:

An aside: Ortiz's autobiography from 2008 probably would make a great audio book. Do you think Big Papi would sit down for a few days to record himself talking?