Philip Rivers Had A Grand Old Time Leading The Colts Into Their Grave

The Colts did it. After beginning the season with a record of 8–2, Indianapolis has now been eliminated from the playoffs. It's a pretty exclusive circle of hell, where they've landed: Since 1990, when the NFL playoffs expanded to 12 teams, only three teams have missed the field after such a strong start, and it certainly goes without saying that the Colts are the first to manage this fall since the playoffs expanded further, to 14 teams, in 2020. Fate pulled some incredible horseshit to produce this outcome, without even getting into Indianapolis's miserable quarterback situation: The Colts' ongoing losing streak, run to six games after Sunday's 23–17 loss to the Jacksonville Jaguars, coincides with a combined 15 consecutive wins (!) by the two teams now ahead of them in the AFC South. The universe wanted to be absolutely clear about this: The Colts could not be allowed to carry so much as a vague waft of relevance into the new year.

One fellow who is not going to let this wretched and historic collapse ruin his good time is old man Philip Rivers. "Other than us not winning," said an upbeat Rivers after his team's latest loss, "it's been an absolute blast for three weeks." Included in that "blast" was Rivers tossing a horrible fourth-quarter interception Sunday that eventually set up Jacksonville's go-ahead field goal. The pick cannot really be described as any very serious form of "backbreaking," for the simple reason that the Colts were officially eliminated from playoff contention Saturday, when the Houston Texans beat the Chargers in Los Angeles. That Rivers, who was already old by professional-athlete standards when he retired way back in 2021, was even out there Sunday, slinging it around for the no-hope Colts, is a kind of personal moral victory. "It's been absolutely awesome," insisted Rivers Sunday afternoon. I'm not sure the satisfaction and delight are quite shared by those teammates of his who were around before the beginning of this hateful second-half swoon.