The Anthony Richardson Conundrum

Debate rages on whether ‘the best athlete on the planet’ will be given enough time to realize his potential as an NFL quarterback, those who remain unsure about it, and those ready to punt on the former first-round pick.

For now, Richardson raises more questions than he answers as a starting quarterback in the NFL. / Grace Hollars/IndyStar USA TODAY Network via Imagn Images-Imagn Images

Anthony Richardson heard the boos. He is human, after all. He has ears. The jeers, catcalls and snorts rained down upon the Indianapolis Colts and their embattled quarterback all game on Sunday. They came from the home fans, delivered from right up front to way up top.

In the aftermath of a 16–10 victory over the Miami Dolphins that felt like less than a win, Richardson acknowledged that the chorus of displeasure had, indeed, reached him. He said it didn’t bother him. And he agreed with those fans, to a point: Indy’s offense needed to execute and had not, again.

Thus continues a new, unprecedented viewing calculus—for any Colts fan; for anyone interested in quarterback play, or how teams win in the modern NFL; and for those enticed by the limits of human potential and how to reach them. Whether any one person is still enticed by Richardson, or begging the Colts to end this grand experiment in offensive football, depends on the individual answers to several questions. How many days like this can they look past? Tolerate? And, critically, for what kind of payoff, exactly, whether later this season or down the road.

For now, Richardson raises more questions than he answers. Is he injury-prone? So far, yes, but not exactly in the way he’s most commonly described. Is he inaccurate? Yes. Alarmingly so. Young? Undoubtedly, the 22-year-old is the second-youngest QB in the NFL, older only than Drake Maye, the New England Patriots’ rookie who was born three months later.

That’s the baseline. But context matters. Flashes—of what’s possible, from impossible throws to an unfathomable combination of traits—matter. Experience and reps matter. The plays that Colts head coach Shane Steichen calls matter. It all matters, but so does patience. And how much patience will vary, at least while the Colts, at 4–3, attempt to solve a shaky season and everyone invested in Richardson’s success will toil to close the gap between what he can be and what he—at least currently—is.

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To differentiate Richardson, at least from the standpoint of potential standpoint, might be the simplest exercise in sports. It requires only proximity and eyesight. One look; first glance. Legs extending upward like sequoias. Defensive lineman’s trunk. Body—thick, muscled, proportionate—designed, ostensibly, to announce the obvious. This is a large human being. “You’re constantly trying to figure out what you’re looking at when you’re coaching,” says Ryan O’Hara, his position coach at Florida.

That’s Potential, Part I.

Still, there are plenty of humans who stand 6'4" and walk around, as Richardson does, according to his private coaches, at roughly 255 pounds. How many of them ran a 4.44-second 40-yard dash (fourth-fastest ever, at the scouting combine, for a QB)? And registered a 40.5-inch vertical leap (highest-ever, QBs)? And broad-jumped 10.75 feet (highest)?

One guy did. One guy, ever. This large human being who does not move like other, large human beings, who runs as if floating over turf, who is wide and strong and fast and fluid. The same guy can leap from the free-throw line on a basketball court and throw down dunks. In college, he pump-faked against Utah … while spinning … in the air … for a jump fake that yielded a two-point conversion—a move without precedent, except for when he had done the same thing in practice. Once-in-a-lifetime. Except in this lifetime.

That’s Part II.

Still, there are plenty of quarterbacks—some tall, some thick—who possess uncommon athleticism. How many of those guys would also be evaluated (favorably) and coveted (desperately) for arm talent alone? Who can, as evaluators say, “make all the throws?” Then celebrate touchdowns with standing backflips?

“He’s the best athlete on the planet. Can juggle. Kick a soccer ball. Elite hooper. Just a different type of human.”

- Will Hewlett, Richardson’s private coach

That’s Part III, where 2024 gets complicated. Combine the annals of oversized signal-callers with the history of NFL quarterbacks known for speed and athleticism. For Richardson, there’s no obvious comp. He’s bigger, in pure physical size, than Donovan McNabb, Colin Kaepernick, Michael Vick, Josh Allen, Jalen Hurts and Lamar Jackson. He’s faster and more athletic than JaMarcus Russell, Dante Culpepper, Steve McNair, Bruce Eugene—the Round Mound of Touchdown—and Ben Roethlisberger. His arm talent is superior to Tim Tebow’s.

The most frequently cited analog: Cam Newton, longtime Carolina Panthers great and former NFL MVP. They’re similar in size and arm strength. But Richardson is more athletic.

Keep searching. Project Richardson’s size-speed-arm combo back a few decades, and he would have been oversized for a defensive end. He’s nearly identical in stature to Bruce Smith and T.J. Watt. Either would work better than Newton. So would Khalil Mack.

The best Richardson analog, then, isn’t a quarterback at all.

“He’s the best athlete on the planet,” says Will Hewlett, Richardson’s private quarterback coach. “Can juggle. Kick a soccer ball. Elite hooper. Just a different type of human.”

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Richardson's health has been one of his biggest obstacles since getting drafted by the Colts. / Christine Tannous/IndyStar / USA TODAY NETWORK via Imagn Images

In this strange Colts season, most early angst has focused on Richardson’s accuracy. The gist: not good. Week 4 shifted the debate back to an even more familiar topic.

Playing at home, against the Pittsburgh Steelers, Richardson started sharp, his pass attempts clean and efficient, mechanics consistent, completing three of his first four attempts for 71 yards.

In that opening quarter, Richardson lasered a completion into a tight window. Steichen then dialed up a quarterback draw. On the subsequent tackle, a defender collided with the right side of Richardson’s back. Slow to rise and slower to get off the field, Richardson grimaced on the sideline, as the ageless Joe Flacco trotted onto the field yet again.

Flacco sustained that drive, before Richardson returned after two plays, at which point the television analysts noted that Steichen … couldn’t possibly … call another designed run … at the exact point when Steichen … called … another … designed run. Another punishing tackle ended with a collision of facemasks, ending Richardson’s afternoon.

Another early exit stoked existing injury concerns. Which, when combined with an above-average Flacco outing in that game and the next two, stoked calls for a quarterback swap. 

At that point, Richardson had started eight NFL games but had completed only four. The first thought that crossed even his mind that day: “Man, damn. Not again.”

The lackluster win over Miami marked Richardson’s return to the starting lineup. Counting Week 4—and the two others he missed entirely—the Colts went 2–1. Under Flacco, their offense showed marked, obvious improvement. Against the Dolphins, with Richardson back under center, that same offense regressed. Again.

This only exacerbated the existing Richardson conundrum, in the debate that rages. It involves three camps: Those certain he will realize his potential, if given enough time, those who remain unsure, and those already ready to punt.

In six career NFL games in which Richardson has at least 15 attempts, he has completed more than half … once. His overall percentage stands at 53.5 after nine career games, which places Richardson in the same neighborhood—after that many starts—as Case Keenum, Deshone Kizer, Trace McSorley, Tebow, John Skelton and others. It also ranks him above Josh Allen.

Richardson understands the gap between potential and his play at present. He understands that it must be closed. Understands that The Alternative stands on the same sideline; the 39-year-old Flacco is not just an option but a solid option, perhaps the best option, at least at present.

The Dolphins game spoke to the conundrum. Richardson carried the football more times (14) than he completed passes (10). His season, near the halfway point, features a dismal completion percentage (48.5) and twice as many interceptions (six) as touchdown passes (three). Still, even after the oblique injury and the heightening of all doubts, Richardson made throws against the Dolphins that screamed wow in comparison to a football game as boring as any ever played. He threw darts on deep outs that even strong-armed quarterbacks struggle to complete. He rocketed downfield on designed runs that made anyone who embraces his potential cringe. He led Indy with 56 pivotal rushing yards. And he won, they won, which matters most of all.

The Colts remain on the outskirts of the AFC playoff picture. But they did so despite not having star running back Jonathan Taylor—out with a high ankle sprain—for the third consecutive game.

All of which begs another question, one that’s central to the rest of Indianapolis’s season: What should be done about this gap, in relation to both the future and a potential playoff run?

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With Richardson, there’s this: only nine completions in a home loss to the Houston Texans to open the season. 

And this: In Week 2, at Green Bay, he threw three interceptions in another loss. 

And this: He still ranks tied for eighth in interceptions, despite ranking 32nd in attempts.

But there’s also this, always, with Richardson, unfathomable never far from, welp, not good: Week 1, first quarter, first-and-10, Colts ball, their 40-yard-line. The moment Richardson spied the specific look he wanted, he believed emerging wideout Alec Pierce would be open deep downfield. Richardson could only shake his head; the set-up, too perfect. He only had to “put it up in orbit.”

Only Richardson dropped too wide and could hardly push off with any force on his back leg. Pierce sprinted behind the defense. Richardson launched the ball, off-balance. Still, the attempt “just kept carrying,” Pierce said. Even with a wobble, the ball sailed roughly 65 yards in the air. Easy score, sure, but very few quarterbacks in the NFL would dare attempt that throw, let alone be strong enough, with enough arm talent, to complete it. Steichen would say, more than once, that it was the best throw he had ever seen in person—and he coached Jalen Hurts in Philadelphia and witnessed one of Patrick Mahomes’s most remarkable plays from the Chargers’ sideline. The attempt was so good, in fact, the Colts made that video recap. It demanded to be archived.

Says Hewlett, “That deep ball was one of the best throws, in football, of all-time.”

To the inaccuracy brigade, Tom Gormely, Richardson’s trainer and physical therapist, points to a throw like that throw, an attempt enticing only starts to capture. “Who cares?” about early, correctable issues for a quarterback with limited game experience,” he says. “I know what [Richardson] is gonna do.”

The gist: A lot more than most think nearly halfway through this season. Where, not insignificantly, he has still found ways to win. The proof came against the Chicago Bears. On a day where he completed 10-of-20 attempts, Richardson spotted a second-quarter opening in Chicago’s defense, relayed “nickel blitz” to Taylor and audibled to a handoff that yielded a touchdown. Richardson even pushed another back, Trey Sermon, about three yards, into the end zone, in what became the Colts’ first win.

All signs, like this sign, point toward progress, for Richardson, in obvious ways and less-obvious ones. At various points in 2024, he led all QBs in advanced metrics such as air yards and money throws (defined as a completed pass requiring exceptional skill or athleticism as well as critical completions in clutch moments during the game). His young wideouts, in comparison, persistently landed Indy near the top of “dropped passes” lists, which, when combined with Richardson’s accuracy woes, limited the offense’s total snaps.

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Richardson left Florida with inaccuracy as his single greatest weakness and greatest impediment to realizing his unicorn potential. / George Walker IV / Tennessean.com / USA TODAY NETWORK

One important point in the Richardson-is-not-accurate narrative is often overlooked. At its simplest, it’s this notion: not all accuracy-inaccuracy is created equal, especially in the NFL.

Richardson left Florida with the same tag, with inaccuracy as his single greatest weakness and greatest impediment to realizing that unicorn potential. Even those closest to him acknowledge his struggles there, especially this season.

Like on one attempt against the Bears, where Richardson rolled left and threw off his back foot. The powerless attempt floated toward two defenders for an easy turnover. One website named it an early candidate for Worst Interception of the Year. Of particular interest: The setup for this attempt was essentially the same as the setup for the deep ball to Pierce that staggered those who study offensive football. Off-balance. No push-off. One worked; one did not work—like with LeBron James, one of the best passers in NBA history and the league’s all-time leader in turnovers, too.

Still, the believers would like to separate fact from exaggeration. Watch the lens shift. Richardson has overthrown open receivers far too often, with attempts floating beyond or flying above-intended targets. This signals not a fatal flaw but the need for what he always required—more reps in real games. He lost 13 of those last season and parts of three this year so far to injuries.

Still, Richardson had the fewest college starts of any signal-caller drafted in the first round this century. After those four uneven weeks to start the season, plus the Dolphins game, his total tally of starts since high school stands at 22.

One study, published by Samford University in Aug. 2021, correlated a quarterback’s college starts in relation to their QBR and touchdowns per game in the NFL at an 80 percent level. Meaning they were related but not necessarily tied to pro football success. “Overall, the number of games a quarterback plays in college does not have a substantial effect on their odds of succeeding at the NFL level …” the study concluded. “Projecting a quarterback’s jump … requires a deep dive into how well the player is on the field.”

Give him time, in other words, to assess whether Richardson is simply inexperienced or headed toward the dreaded bust tag that ends with general managers and coaches on the firing line. Give him grace, too, because there are elements of the conundrum—Steichen’s play designs, his calls; young receivers who run the wrong route or drop passes or cannot create separation from defenders; fluky turnovers; elite defensive plays—that have always existed outside his control.

That sentiment applies to his injuries as well. It’s not like Richardson is barrelling wildly downfield, forcing runs that endanger his personal health. Three of his four NFL injuries came on designed runs.

Still, Richardson’s inexperience hampers his ability to make all the right throws at all the right times. After Week 4,  he insisted he wasn’t pressing. He admitted to excitement, too much in some instances, which he compared to missing a breakaway lay-up in basketball. Give him enough reps, coaches say, and he will hit those, calm down, see the field like he cannot currently.

Anyone who ignores the context, Gormely says, doesn’t understand how quarterbacks develop. What Richardson lacks is precisely what every NFL starter needs, which is what he’s getting, slowly, with myriad interruptions. “Don’t label any incompletion inaccuracy,” Gormely says. “He’s further along accuracy-wise than people thought [he would be entering the draft].”

Perhaps that’s why Richardson has long and consistently resisted the “athletic quarterback” tag that most commonly applies to him. He is a quarterback. Period. End of sentence. And he will be an accurate quarterback, his coaches insist, and soon. One problem: The NFL isn’t a league of “soon.”

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Richardson has shown a fearlessness, putting his 255-pound body on the line against NFL defenders. / Marc Lebryk-Imagn Images

When Richardson hired Gormely and Hewlett, they started by charting a development plan. The coaches found no significant mechanical flaws in his throwing motion and no physical limitations, duh, in the no-way talent in his right arm. Hewlett believes his consistency will come with time, practice, development, and adjustments.

Still, Richardson makes difficult attempts to far corners of fields look easy. Footballs all but leap from his hands. His explosiveness—with throwing the football—cannot be taught. He has shown that, at the NFL level: In his pro debut, Richardson gained 262 yards from scrimmage and scored twice. He proved he could play in the NFL, efficiently, at quarterback, the very first time he played a professional game.

In 2023, he played two full games and parts of two others before the injury. He was also limited by a concussion. He still scored seven times. The Colts tied for sixth in the NFL with 11 plays that gained 40 or more yards, despite the early end to his rookie season.

“He’s going to be elite. We’ve already seen it.”

- Tom Gormely, Richardson’s trainer

Most observers, when assessing that limited sample size, saw the same thing as Richardson’s sports scientist. “He’s going to be elite,” Gormely says. “We’ve already seen it.”

This offseason, though, Richardson spent more time getting healthy than wowing coaches. In February, he could still throw only five times a week. Before the opener, he spoke to local reporters about significant improvements, heightened hunger, and his eagerness to “showcase it.” After the Year of New in 2023—new coach, new quarterback, new direction for the franchise—Steichen could design a fuller, more creative offense.

As for expectations, Richardson said, “I don’t know, honestly.”

Short answer, so far: a little bit of everything.

So his development continues, even if that’s not obvious. Richardson continues to work on going through multiple progressions, multiple reads, different bases for his passes, varied arm angles, changing direction, and much more. Coaches don’t doubt his work ethic or capacity for vast improvement. They also don’t want to change Richardson too much; the plan, then, is to develop around his “unicorn traits,” Gormely says.

The focus lingers most on consistency. In mechanics. Drive-lines. Push positions.

Learning shouldn’t be an issue. O’Hara notes the complexity of the Gators offense. He says Richardson had no problems changing plays at the line, sliding protections, or knowing where to start his progression on any one play. “He mastered that in one year,” O’Hara says.

Add everything together and these coaches, who best understand Richardson’s flaws and how he might overcome them, see the top of his top potential as nearly impossible to define. It’s that lofty, that unusual. “We’re not fully aware yet of how high it can be,” Hewlett says.

The question — for now and for however long this experiment might last—remains: Will Richardson get enough time, and enough reps, to realize it?