Inside Anthony Richardson's brain injury and the toughest decision for a rookie to make

HOUSTON -- Anthony Richardson was gliding into the end zone when a Texans defender flew into his chest and knocked him backward, banging his head against the turf. But the Colts rookie quarterback did what he's been doing since he was a middle schooler on the black metal picnic tables in a park behind his Gainesville house, flipping right back onto his feet with a smile and a scream of joy.

Colts teammates patted him on the shoulder pads and helmet in celebration of a show that felt like it was just beginning. But two nondescript drives later, Richardson was ducking into a blue tent to check for a brain injury and Gardner Minshew was warming up on the sidelines. Then, he was out for the game.

This was his decision. And what happened in the two series between those moments is what changed the tone of the first victory of the Richardson-Shane Steichen era -- and, potentially, the health of the franchise.

Richardson was in a zone after that touchdown, one of two in a 31-20 victory over the Texans. In his first career road start, in his second NFL game, he'd scored two times in five minutes. Both were waltzes into the end zone through two completely different play designs -- one a quarterback draw for 18 yards, the other a 15-yard sweeper behind a lead blocker -- until M.J. Stewart surprised him at the 1-yard line.

"He was on his way to having a monster game," tight end Drew Ogletree said.

But he's a pro now, and a game is the culmination of a week of practices and meetings and words exchanged. And this week planted a seed for the crucial decision he'd make in his second start.

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Seven days ago, Richardson finished his first career game against the Jaguars with 10 carries for 40 yards and a touchdown. He shook hands with Trevor Lawrence, the star quarterback who outdueled him, and Lawrence had a message.

"Just try to protect yourself," Lawrence said to Richardson in his postgame press conference. "The hits add up in this league and they are a little different than in college."

The next day, the rookie felt that message in his bones.

“I woke up with some feelings I had never felt before," said Richardson, who did not speak to media after the game due to his injury.

He was asked if he'd force himself to slide more.

"Definitely," he said with a smile. "Definitely."

That week, the Colts practiced relentlessly on a play Steichen has been waiting to make real. It called for Josh Downs to motion from a receiver spot into the backfield so that Richardson could fake a handoff out of the shotgun and then turn off a crack block from Michael Pittman Jr. to follow Kylen Granson as a lead blocker to the short side of the field.

"That's his baby," Pittman said of Steichen's design.

By the time they ran it on Sunday, the Colts were running away with the game. They had just forced a C.J. Stroud fumble that Samson Ebukam fell on at the 15-yard line. A sudden change of possession allowed them to catch the defense on its heels, and everything came together so perfectly -- a fake to Downs, a pancake from Pittman, a lead from Granson, a smooth gallop from Richardson on that 4.43-second 40-yard dash speed -- that the quarterback slowed up as he entered the end zone. And that's when Stewart launched.

Richardson hopped right back up, fueled by childlike adrenaline and showed no signs that anything was off. But he started to feel some in the next two series.

The Colts didn't call any runs for him, but he threw slightly behind and early to Granson and threw low to Downs as the Colts went three-and-out both times.

And that's when he told them the field wasn't looking right. The Colts propped up a blue tent, and in he went.

As the curtains closed, Stroud was leading the Texans on a surgical 13-play, 63-yard touchdown drive. This was setting up to be a duel between the Nos. 2 and 4 picks in the draft, between a pocket sniper in Stroud and an uber-athlete in Richardson who threw side-by-side at the NFL Scouting Combine and sought the gifts and training they saw in one another. This was the first of many battles in the AFC South, but the decision to enter that tent draws on another promise Richardson made this week.

“The last time I tried to compete with somebody else," Richardson said, "I didn’t play great."

One year ago, in Week 2 at Florida, Richardson went up against Kentucky's Will Levis in a battle of ranked teams with more than 20 scouts in attendance. Richardson forced his way into one of the worst games he's ever played. He hired a mental coach that week and promised himself to never again compete out of gratification and comparison.

His loyalty now must be to what's in his heart -- and in his brain.

"If you're not able to perform at a level that you think can benefit your team and you think it's best for you to step down, (then you should)," Granson said, "I think that's the most mature thing you can do as a professional athlete."

Except Richardson wasn't just thinking about the people on the football field.

"You've gotta look at it like, 'What would your mom want you to do right here?'" said Downs, Richardson's roommate during training camp who spoke to him during that moment.

LaShawnda Cleare first realized her son's football talents when he won a throwing competition in a landslide at an elementary school in Miami. But she feared she couldn't protect it as they bounced from house to house and he imitated Cam Newton and Lamar Jackson in youth games at the park, surrounded by the drugs and crime that can kill dreams before they have a chance to take off.

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She took Richardson and his younger brother, Corey Carter, with her to Gainesville, Florida, to chase a safer life. And he brought the two of them to Indianapolis when he bought their first-ever house this spring, after the Colts made him the No. 4 pick in the draft.

So, even as he was in the middle of the breakout NFL performance he fantasized about on that patchy grass field at the park behind their Section 8 housing in Gainesville, something bigger was still at stake here. The goal was never just to get to the NFL.

The goal, as he had tattood on his body, is to become "legendary."

So, he stepped out of the tent, hooked a right and walked into the tunnel. Moments later, he was ruled out for the game.

That's where his teammates found him, still in strong spirits, asking all about the 76-yard touchdown drive Minshew led on the next series, which Zack Moss capped off with an 11-yard run. Pittman told Richardson he has to be more careful when he's out in the open field; Richardson said he just didn't see the defender.

"It's weird because when he runs, he doesn't really get hit, but when he does get it, it's a big hit," Pittman said. "... He's not used to the ferocity of hits in the NFL. He's in his learning process."

Minshew promised Richardson he'd hold it down for him out there, and he saw that trademark grin again. Then he went out and did that, completing 19 of 23 passes for 171 yards and a touchdown with no turnovers.

Mostly, teammates expressed surprise that Richardson was willing to remove himself from a moment he'd never experienced before, that a childhood dream could contain such perspective. Moss played his first three seasons in Buffalo with Josh Allen, who notoriously never slides to avoid any contact.

"If I'm having a game especially the game (Richardson) was starting off with," Ogletree said, "shoot, it would be hard to pull me out."

Ogletree knows this experience too well. Just one week ago, he caught a 20-yard seam pass from Richardson when a Jaguars defender speared him in the facemask. He hopped right back up like Richardson did, but he wobbled for a step backward, and the NFL spotter in the press box called down to have him evaluated for a brain injury. Moments later, the trainer ruled him out of his second career NFL game.

He was symptom-free and never worried about any effects until he heard from his grandmother, who was terrified in the stands that day. He then had a son and younger brother asking questions, and he searched for the right words to describe to an 8-year-old an injury nobody can see.

Those conversations sat with him as he stood on the sidelines in street clothes as a healthy scratch and watched Richardson take the shot, bounce back up like he did, not fire passes like he had been and then dip his own giant frame into the blue medical tent. They kept coming back to him as Ogletree watched a Texans safety wobble off the field after going high on Mo Alie-Cox and got word that center Ryan Kelly was out for the game with his own brain injury.

"I'm lowkey glad I got a week off," Ogletree said, "to get my mind right."

Richardson will now go through the same protocol he did. It has five steps the player must progress beyond, starting with rest and recovery and moving to light aerobic exercise to strength training to a non-contact practice to a full practice and clearance by an independent neurologist, all ahead of a game.

Last year, 113 players were diagnosed with brain injuries prior to a game, according to pro-football-reference.com. Of that group, 21.2% played that week, 53.0% missed one game, 19.5% missed two games and 6.2% missed three games. The variance underscores how different each brain injury can be, from the presence and severity of symptoms to the baseline functions a player has to return to in order to get right to the history of brain injuries within a player. This is at least Richardson's second brain injury, as he suffered another at Florida in November 2021.

The Colts might err on the side of caution with a road game in Baltimore, sitting Richardson even if he clears, the way they did with Ogletree in Houston. They might not have a choice either way.

At some point, Richardson will return to the field and so will the hope and thrill of those two rushing touchdowns and the way he screamed in celebration. But when that day comes, the Colts hope he's learned another lesson. After all, that's what this season is really about.

"Don't run like me," said Pittman, the team's heat-seeking missile, "especially if the whole franchise is dependent on you."

Contact Nate Atkins at natkins@indystar.com. Follow him on Twitter @NateAtkins_.

This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Colts: Inside the toughest football decision Anthony Richardson had to make