PHILIP RIVERS RISES. He has been teed up by his new/former coach, Shane Steichen, to address his new/former Indianapolis Colts teammates for the first time after what has been the most unprecedented this-can't-be-real unretirement in NFL history.
It's the morning of Dec. 10, and the Colts are reeling as 44-year-old Rivers stands up to say a few words. He looks at a crowd of about 70 players and sees some familiar faces -- 14 Colts played with him in 2020, his last season in the league. But the rest are newbies who know only the dadgum lore of Philip Rivers.
This roster has been through it this year. The Colts were 7-1 through eight weeks, and now are suddenly 8-5, with QB Daniel Jones suffering a season-ending Achilles injury three days earlier against Jacksonville. Some players describe the locker room that Sunday after the Jags game as devastated. Others say that description is an understatement. Most use the same word to describe what it felt like as they got on the team plane: There was no "juice."
Rivers provides 100 percent organic, detoxified juice. The day after the loss, buzz had leaked out that the Colts were entertaining the implausible possibility of signing the high school football coach and grandfather from Alabama. Player group chats immediately began buzzing all night into Tuesday as everybody waited for confirmation. Rivers said even as late as lunchtime that Tuesday, he still was sitting in a hotel room, wrestling with whether he wanted to play again. But the rest of the organization had become reinvigorated at even the chance that Rivers might return. When the verdict came in that Rivers wanted to give it one last go, resetting his Hall of Fame candidacy by five years, those group chats lit up with what the Colts felt like they had lost. "He is the definition of juice," running back Jonathan Taylor said.
As Rivers gets to his feet the next day, his former teammates smile because they know what's about to happen for the young guys in the room. Rivers is a one-of-one adventure, a puffy-cheeked tornado of exuberance that plays at 1.25 speed as he waves his hands and rapid-fires some of the most animated, aggressive non-swearing pep talks in football history. Much has been made of his age, but he has always been one of the NFL's most dadly dads. It is quite an experience to observe others take it all in.
"It was funny to watch everybody watch him," longtime Colts linebacker Zaire Franklin said. "It was a shot of adrenaline into our team when we needed it the most."
Rivers speaks for about 30 seconds, and it's telling that none of the 14 Colts interviewed for this story, including Rivers, can clearly remember what he said. This is what Rivers can bring -- a passionate, amorphous blob of positive energy that will move the emotional needle for almost anybody. That's the unforgettable part, not the words themselves.
The best cobbled-together recollection from Colts in the room, with reports of the number of "dadgumits" ranging from one to a lot more than one:
"I've been out of the game for a few years, but I am so excited to be back," Rivers said. "I thought my career might have been over, and I was OK with that. But I missed the game and missed all of you. I don't take this for granted at all. We're in this thing, dadgumit. We're 8-5 and in the playoff hunt. We can get there. Why not us?"
That last part sends the room into an all-out roar. Rivers is back. Now, all he has to do is win the job.
THE RETURN OF Philip Rivers is a little bit of a misunderstanding because to many close to him, he never totally left the game.
He had gone 11-5 in one year with Indy in 2020, dropping a first-round playoff game to the Bills. By all accounts, the Colts were interested in having him back in 2021. He had eclipsed 4,000 passing yards for the eighth straight year, and the team looked good. Rivers still loved the game and wrestled hard with returning for another year. But he had earned almost $250 million in his career, escaped a 17-year career with almost no significant injuries and had nine kids (Rivers and his wife welcomed their 10th child in 2023) whom he wanted to spend time with. In January 2021, after a hike, Rivers decided to hang up his cleats. "It's just time," he said then. "It's just right."
But Rivers didn't actually hang up his cleats. In fact, he put his favorite pair in a trophy case at his house, just an arm's reach away, as he transitioned into a new football life as head coach at St. Michael Catholic High School in Fairhope, Alabama.
This was what he calls "Nunc Coepi," a Latin phrase that is pronounced noonk-CHEP-ee and translates as "Now I begin." Rivers puts his own twist on that sentiment, embracing it in a way that means every day, every hour, every play can be a new beginning. He calls it the Rivers family phrase, and to this day, he often wears hats with the phrase on it. Coaching would be nunc coepi for him going forward.
Over the past four years, he built St. Michael Catholic into a state power in Alabama, led by his son, QB prospect Gunner Rivers. The program went 25-3 during the past two seasons, with two straight tough losses in the state semifinals. "He's done an unbelievable job as our head football coach," said friend Simon Cortopassi, who is the school's co-athletic director and defensive coordinator for Rivers. "The belief factor that 'we can do this' when Philip is around goes through the roof. You can't put a value on that. He's one of those people who truly gets the best out of everybody around him. He brings you up."
Rivers never lost his competitiveness, turning into the same fiery G-rated leader as a coach that he was as a player. Like Colts veterans watching first-timers around Rivers, his high school players and assistant coaches would always get a good laugh watching opposing teams, and sometimes even refs, who had never been around Rivers. He already had an aura on the sidelines as a legendary former NFL star, but his occasional outbursts of "Shoot, let's get the dadgum ball back!" or "What the living heck was that call?" would draw looks of bemusement from first-timers.
He even broke out a hilarious new non-swear that has traveled to Indianapolis: "Let's stinking go." There's never been a more creative, kid-friendly fireball in the history of sports than Philip Rivers.
His inner circle knew he occasionally got calls from NFL teams inquiring about his interest in returning and his physical capabilities. He worked out with his high school team, played in charity basketball tournaments and loved to throw to anybody willing. But he never did any extended training with a realistic plan to unretire. So, even he wondered if he could hold up over a week of practice, throwing 100 balls a day, and then endure a game. There's a big difference between being in good dad shape and feeling NFL-ready.
The closest Rivers came to a comeback was during the 2022-23 playoffs, when San Francisco got to the NFC title game despite injuries to Trey Lance, Jimmy Garoppolo and Brock Purdy. Rivers even began to attend videoconference meetings with the 49ers to learn the playbook and game plan. If the Niners had beaten the Eagles to advance to the Super Bowl that year, 49ers coach Kyle Shanahan admitted this week that Rivers would have been their quarterback against the Chiefs. "He was always in there, but no one really knew," Shanahan said. "He was always ready if the moment happened."
The day of the Colts-Jaguars game, Rivers was watching live when Jones went down and grabbed his Achilles. Rivers still watched every Indy game he could in recent years, and he modeled his high school offense after what Steichen runs. Most of the naming devices are the same as the Indy playbook, and Rivers often has his players watch Colts game tape to demonstrate what he needs them to do.
Rivers liked Jones and what he brought to the Indy offense, so he was heartbroken to see him go down. He also felt a pang in his stomach because he had gotten close with Jones' backup, Riley Leonard, who lives down the street from him in Fairhope. Rivers worked with Leonard when he was coming out of Notre Dame last year and was a key voice vouching for Leonard during the Colts' draft process.
At the end of each of their sessions, Rivers or Leonard would choose a final mini-competition, such as who could hit a specific short-range target with a throw or land the ball on a net from long range, before they went home for the day. The first time Rivers let Leonard choose a wind-down drill for them, he picked a sprint that ended with a throw -- not Rivers' strong suit. Leonard won and left for the day. But the loss bothered Rivers all evening. At about 11 that night, Leonard got a voice memo from Rivers. "You cheated," he said. "That was an unfair drill."
The Colts took Leonard in the sixth round, and he was thrown into the fray when Jones went down. Watching from Alabama, Rivers felt butterflies for his protégé when he entered against Jacksonville. Leonard was solid but unspectacular versus the Jags, and when his knee started bothering him on the plane ride home, Steichen and GM Chris Ballard considered making a move.
They could bring up Brett Rypien from the practice squad. Former first-round pick Anthony Richardson Sr., out because of an orbital bone injury, was getting close to returning to the practice field but really wasn't an option. They could use another player, and they decided that the team needed more than a steady hand under center. The Colts needed someone with gravitas to blast some life into the team. That really left only one person to call: Rivers.
In Alabama, Rivers must have felt a disruption in the force. As Sunday afternoon wore on, Rivers kept thinking about the gut punch his former team had endured. And during the late-window games, he caught his mind wandering a few times.
"I wonder if Shane will call," Rivers thought. But even Rivers started to think that would be absurd." Nah, not gonna happen," he told himself.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN Shane Steichen and Rivers is about as close as a coach and player can get. Steichen was a 28-year-old pup with the Chargers when Rivers was a 32-year-old at the peak of his powers in San Diego. Steichen rose from a quality control coach in 2014-15 to QBs coach for three years, helping Rivers get to three straight Pro Bowls. Then, Steichen became the Chargers' offensive coordinator in 2019-20.
The two became incredibly tight, and even though Steichen technically was and is his boss, it's much more of a partnership than coach-player. In fact, saying that Rivers ran Steichen's offense at St. Michael could easily be flipped to say that the Colts run Rivers' St. Michael's offense; his contributions to Steichen's football philosophy are vast. And Rivers might have a bigger impact on Steichen, the man, than his playcalling philosophy. "The person he is, the father he is, the husband he is -- it's just a great example of how to be a great human," Steichen said.
But Steichen doesn't know what to expect when he and Ballard call Rivers late on Dec. 7. Neither does Rivers. He feels his engine turning over inside him but doesn't know if he could line up on an NFL field and rip off 25-yard ropes to professional receivers. "I need to get up there and throw," he says repeatedly during the call.
Rivers arrives in Indianapolis that Monday and secretly works out for the staff during a team off day. Wearing his favorite cleats, pulled from their resting place at his house, Rivers looks good in front of Ballard and Steichen. His fire is there, but that has never been a real question with Rivers. And physically, he holds up well. Rivers laughs when asked what he is weighing these days, eventually saying, "Not what it was when I walked off the field." His arm is still live, though to the untrained eye, his quirky delivery plus five more years can be a little jarring. But as has always been the case, the ball flies out of his hand. "He can still sling it," receiver Michael Pittman Jr. says.
When Ballard officially extends an offer, Rivers says he wants to sit with the decision at his hotel. He spends that Monday night praying and calling friends and family for their input. His coaches and players are all-in from the get-go, and his wife, Tiffany, and family are supportive.
His wife is worried about the potential for injury. But she knows playing football still gnaws at her husband. Rivers jokes around about how in retirement, he would sometimes tell Tiffany, "I kind of miss getting hit."
"You're not normal," she always replies.
At some point, he gets dinner, though he says he has no idea what he ate because he found himself in such a contemplative zone. As feisty and outgoing as Rivers can be, he's also meditative about such big things. He decided to retire while alone on a trail outside Indianapolis, and this one won't be rash, either.
He changes his mind over and over again that night. On one hand, he had escaped a violent sport with barely any lingering injuries and is probably about to get elected into the Hall of Fame. On the other hand, his competitive side is begging for one more chance. When he wakes up the next morning, Rivers hasn't arrived at a final verdict.
"It was one of the bigger life decisions I have ever had to make, especially involving the game," he says. "Most of the decisions about football are made for you, like getting drafted and when to quit. There were times that night when I was like, 'Heck yeah, I'm doing it,' and then times when I said, 'Nah, I'm not.' That lasted into Tuesday morning. At about 11, I felt ready to go." He takes a deal to join the Colts' practice squad, which officially delays his current Hall of Fame chances but also resets his NFL health insurance. NFL coverage typically cuts off five years after a player's last game. For a guy with 10 kids, he'll take another half a decade of free healthcare. His return becomes one of the biggest news stories of the week, with a wide range of reactions, mostly positive, or at least deeply curious. There's something about the "old guy's going to do one more job" storyline that resonates with all audiences, not just sports fans, so Rivers goes into last weekend with perhaps the highest approval rating of any NFL player. He sounds like many of us looking back on our glory days.
"A door opens, and you can either walk through and find out if you can do it, or run from it," he says that day. "I know that there's risk involved, obviously, of what may or may not happen. But the only way to find out is going for it. I almost felt like it was a gift, another opportunity to play and cut it loose with the guys. There's something about being back in this building that feels right." The short Wednesday speech from Rivers lands hard within the locker room. Steichen consulted with his leadership council of Colts players, so he knew that Rivers had robust support with his veterans, many of whom call him "Uncle Phil." He's their guy, and he always will be. Then, he wins over the entire room with his words on Wednesday.
The rest of the week, Rivers is impressive in practice. He does all the basics, from knowing the playbook to making all of the tough throws. His arm isn't the same from his first stint with Indianapolis, but the wideouts say there's no decline in his ability to zip 50-yarders in practice, though Rivers, in the most Rivers way possible, knows what the game plan will look like. "I'm not here to stinking save the year or be a hero by any means," he says. "We gotta stinking run the crap out of the football and play defense."
He also must shake off the rust with some of the nuances of being an NFL quarterback. Several young players are surprised when Rivers walks up to them and introduces himself by calling them by their names. They realize this NFL legend must have worked on putting names to faces so that he could go to each of them one-on-one to say hello. "That really meant a lot," practice squad lineman Josh Sills says. "You could tell he cared enough to put the time in."
Rivers goes out of his way to connect with new center Tanor Bortolini to develop what Bortolini calls "hand presence" between them. This is the essential art of getting comfortable with the center-quarterback exchange, the intimate Nunc Coepi of every play. "You absolutely need to get a feel for a guy's hands and where he is going to put them," Bortolini says. "It's been pretty natural for us."
Before and after most practices, Bortolini and Rivers do some shotgun snaps. Then, Bortolini crouches down and Rivers nestles in. "He has a good presence," Bortolini says. "He's a little lighter in there. Other quarterbacks really get up in."
By the end of the week, Rivers has emerged as the Colts' best option. Leonard is still nursing a mild knee injury but can be the backup against Seattle. On Friday, the Colts officially bump Rivers up to the active roster and name him the starter for the game at Seattle. Vegas reacts by bulking the point spread from 10.5 points to 13.5 in favor of the Seahawks, the biggest underdog role in Rivers' career.
Before the game, Rivers is ready to play. He's a rare meld of being high-strung and also incredibly reassuring, and multiple Colts say his energy in the huddle seeps into their pores during the Seattle game. "In moments of doubt, he was the belief we needed," rookie tackle Jalen Travis says. "I don't know how anybody couldn't love the guy."
Rivers fails to complete a pass over 17 yards against the Seahawks, with a string of checkdowns and safe throws in an 18-of-27, 120-yard day. But he gets the Colts in and out of plays with a remarkable command of the offense and the right dosage of composure and fire that only Rivers can deliver. For most of the afternoon, the Colts control the game. On his one touchdown pass, Rivers hits receiver Josh Downs on an 8-yard score near the end of the second quarter. Rivers unleashes a wild burst of emotion, culminating in his trademark celebration -- knee raised, fist balled, elbow slamming down into his thigh -- and a flurry of Rivers-isms on the sidelines. "He was going crazy," Travis says. "I don't know what he was saying. It was just a ball of energy."
But the Colts don't score again for two hours, and the Seahawks use a last-minute field goal to squeak out a win. In the grand scheme of things, though, the biggest winner of the week is Rivers. He holds up well against one of the league's nastier defenses, and his locker room is electrified, a mood that carries into the next week.
Before his first media availability this past week, a horde of cameras and reporters swarm his locker. Rivers has been placed near tackle Zach Thomas, a practice squad player who signed a few days after Rivers. Thomas grew up in San Diego and went to San Diego State, idolizing Rivers. Now, Thomas has the great honor of getting crowded out of his locker to stand 10 feet away and wait for Rivers to finish holding court. Still, Thomas looks like he won a contest; he has a big smile on his face as he wraps his thumbs in gauze three lockers away. "This is awesome," he says.
Rivers is running a few minutes late, so the pack drifts away to talk to other players. Thomas, 27, gets back into his locker and finishes taping his hands before a murmur that Rivers is on his way. Thomas backs away again, and the herd returns to commandeering the space in front of his locker. "This is still awesome," Thomas says jokingly as Rivers winds his way into the center of the traffic. Rivers speaks for about 10 minutes. His voice is about 25 percent more raspy than his introductory news conference. His pipes have been through the wringer for the past 10 days. "It's much better than I thought it would be, though," Rivers says. "I thought maybe I'd lose my voice completely." He says his body feels good, and he circles back to a point that he has made a bunch of times since he returned -- that this week's "Monday Night Football" game against the 49ers is the first real home game he has played as a Colt. His last year, 2020, had been a COVID season, which meant his final campaign had been in front of a lot of cardboard cutout fans.
As Rivers wraps up in front of his locker, 2021 first-round pick Kwity Paye watches from across the room. He got to Indy right after Rivers retired, so this is his first extended time being around him, and he's loving it.
Paye is looking across at the aftermath with a smile, just like Thomas. When Paye is asked about Rivers, he echoes what multiple other players who had never met him before say -- that they found Rivers to be remarkably modest while also oozing a sense of confidence that gets into their bloodstream. They believe because he believes.
The Niners, Paye says, are a big challenge for the Colts, who have lost four straight games. But Paye seems to have taken on some of the Rivers identity. He uses the word "juice" to describe what the locker room is feeling right now. And his last words are an unforgettable memory of this moment in Colts history.
"I can't wait to see what Philip brings on Monday," Paye says. "Let's stinking go."