Barry Petchesky, editor of this website, assured you only yesterday that you would not have to think about the Indianapolis Colts again this year. The Colts had dropped a third straight game, their quarterback's leg was tragically kerploded, they'd lost control of their division, and the schedule was turning ugly. Also, due to our disgusting coastal bias, Defector was not likely to pay much notice going forward to a non-contender from Indiana, not while there are fresh grass-stain patterns to decipher on the uniform pants of the Jets and Giants. Barry's declaration of inattention seemed quite safe.
But here we are! It's the future now, and NFL insider Ian Rapoport has reported that the Colts are exploring a radical solution to their sudden quarterback shortage. Of all of the planet's many underemployed quarterbacks, the Colts have decided to audition Philip Rivers for their vacancy under center. Thus I am afraid we must blow through yesterday's prediction and make a liar and false prophet of poor Barry: A team with fading but at least superficially credible playoff aspirations is hauling ancient old Marmalard out to the field for a work-out, to see if he can still play the most important position in the sport.
This is either deranged or inspired. The evidence in support of the former is significant. Rivers retired from football nearly five years ago, back in January of 2021. He has been coaching a high school team for more than four years. His mandatory waiting period for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame has almost passed, and indeed he is a semi-finalist for the class of 2026. Rivers turned 44 years old yesterday; because he finished his career as quarterback of these same Indianapolis Colts, and presumably still has friendly contacts within the organization, you probably cannot rule out that this is some sort of birthday-related stunt, or prank. Rivers was already immobile and showed a downright comedic level of juicelessness back in his age-39 season, what little raw athleticism he ever possessed having long abandoned his creaking and hard-used body. Five years of bopping around lower Alabama cannot have primed him particularly well for performing his sport's hardest position at the highest possible level, unless he is truly bionic.
On the other hand, you cannot entirely rule out the possibility that Rivers is truly bionic. He was already certifiably ancient, in football terms, the last time he suited up for Indianapolis, and he started 16 regular-season games that year, and the Colts won 11 of them. They made the playoffs as a wild-card and lost by a lousy field goal to the Buffalo Bills, who eventually made it to the conference championship. He has always been a freak, durability-wise: Rivers started a then-record 51 games in college for North Carolina State, then started 240 consecutive games in his 17-year NFL career. He once famously performed credibly in a playoff game while working around a torn ACL. The man is nothing if not durable, although the Colts would be wise to consider that Rivers, at this stage of life, might literally be nothing, as a football player, beyond durable. He and I are approximately the same age, and my comparatively gently aged corpus creaked and popped audibly this morning just completing the act of rising from bed. Sitting cross-legged on the floor for a period of minutes can temporarily render me functionally paraplegic. The joints and ligaments of a middle-aged body have endured enough of life just in the normal course of living!
Albert Breer reported Tuesday morning that Rivers completed some kind of work-out for the Colts Monday night, and that he showed that he can still throw the ball around. I take no encouragement whatsoever from claims that Rivers maintained "fighting shape" by jogging around with children while running a high school team. The Colts, poor devils, are wounded enough to abandon any real hope of salvaging their season, but alive enough, if only technically, to resist outright euthanasia. If they'd dropped that overtime win before their bye week, or if the Broncos hadn't gifted them late life in a one-point win back in September, this would all be much easier to sort. Instead they shamble on, quarterbackless, into the season's brutal closing stretch. You can forgive them for desperation. But this Rivers maneuver risks more than dignity: That's an old man! He should be boating around Mobile Bay, telling war stories and sleeping late.
