Of QBs and such

 We begin this morning with two quarterbacks, to whom much was given and of whom much is expected. One of them reminds you of someone, though not the someone you probably think; the other is supposed to remind you of someone, but so far only reminds you that playing quarterback in the NFL, and doing it well, is a hard thing.

One of them is a rookie who played his first real NFL game yesterday. The other might as well be a rookie who was playing just his fifth NFL game in two years. One of them won; the other lost.

The rookie is named Caleb Williams, and he carries all of Chicago on his shoulders. The might-as-well-be-a-rookie is Anthony Richardson, and he plays in Indianapolis -- although the guy he reminds you of played in Chicago 50-some years ago.

Anthony Richardson, you see, can throw the ball a country mile, and he runs like a fullback, knocking defenders over like tenpins. What he can't do, seemingly, is throw the ball less than a country mile.

Maybe it's my advanced years, but to me that sounds a lot like Bobby Douglass, who was a Chicago Bear back when the world was young.

Bobby Douglass: Who could throw a football through the side of a barn but sometimes missed the barn entirely, on account of he had no touch whatsoever. And who frequently ran like the aforementioned fullback, once rushing for 900-plus yards in a single season.

Anthony Richardson is what Bobby Douglass would have been if they'd created him in a lab, like the Six Million Dollar Man. He is bigger, faster, stronger and more ridiculously gifted, by a factor of at least ten, than Bobby D -- or any other quarterback who played in Bobby D's time.

Yesterday, for instance, he tucked it and ran on a fourth-and-goal play, and got the six by just flat cheese-grating a defender at the goal line. And earlier, in the first quarter, he uncorked a throw mortals simply can't make: He dropped back, slipped, then whirled the football at least 65 yards off his back foot and hitting Alec Pierce with an absolute dime for another six.

Sixty-five yards, give or take. Off his back foot. Get out your crayons and draw an "S" on the man's chest.

Then again ...

Then again, Richardson's Colts lost. And one of the reasons they lost is AR could throw a 65-yard dime but couldn't hit an open receiver in the flat, or in various other places. In a league whose rules have handcuffed the defense, and therefore made it almost impossible for even Taxi-Squad Steve not to complete 50 percent of his passes, Richardson ... failed to complete 50 percent of his passes. 

On the day, he was 9-of-19 for 212 yards, two touchdowns and one pick. And the Colts lost 29-27 at home to the division rival Houston Texans, whom they'll now likely have to beat in Houston to have a shot at winning the AFC South.

Meanwhile, in Chicago ...

Well, the Bears beat the Tennessee Titans 24-17, a fairly beige W over a fairly beige opponent. And Caleb Williams had a less-than-beige day: 14-of-29 for 64 yards and no touchdowns. He was sacked twice for 29 yards and averaged 3.2 yards per completion.

Needless to say, this was slightly less than what Chicago expected from the man hyped as the Bears first franchise quarterback since Sid Luckman was handing off to Bronko Nagurski.

To his credit, Williams seems to understand this, which is why he apologized to Chicago Sunday for his underwhelming-ness. Privately, he probably understands how ridiculous it all is as well.  These sorts of expectations always are, especially in Chicago, where Bears fans grew up on a steady diet of Douglass and Bob Avellini and the immortal Peter Tom Willis. Williams is supposed to be the reward for all that suffering, Chicago's very own Patrick Mahomes.

Maybe he will be, eventually. Maybe, these being the Bears, he never will. In the meantime, he's just Caleb Williams, rookie, with as much to work on as any other rookie.

Ditto Anthony Richardson, the almost-rookie. Two quarterbacks; two works in progress.