Picture Lucas Oil Stadium on a humid August night: Anthony Richardson , the Colts’ human rocket launcher, takes the field—and five plays later, suffers a dislocated pinky on his throwing hand. The preseason opener against the Ravens ends in a 24–16 loss, and the air hisses out of the building faster than a deflated football.

“It’s day-to-day,” Shane Steichen stated flatly postgame. “Dislocated pinky was popped back in.” Richardson’s dual-threat upside is undeniable—635 rushing yards and 10 touchdowns on the ground, a cannon arm that once torched Houston for a 60-yard score—but durability remains the question.

Simple. Clinical. But beneath the surface? A franchise holding its breath. This wasn’t just a preseason L. It was déjà vu wearing shoulder pads. Anthony Richardson, the dud

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