Philip Rivers Discourse Enters 12th Consecutive Hour as Dad Stares Blankly at TV, Mutters “Unreal”

“44. Unreal. Guy can still sling it,” the Burkhart family reported hearing from the living room at approximately 10:33 a.m. Tuesday, a time when everyone in the household had already assumed Dad had gone to work hours earlier.

“Honey… did you not go to work?” Mrs. Burkhart reportedly asked cautiously, peering around the corner before stopping short. The family then realized Dad was still exactly where they had left him the night before, sunken into his recliner, eyes fixed forward, silently rewatching a Philip Rivers performance that had ended in a loss nearly twelve hours earlier.

He did not acknowledge her presence.

“I’m 46,” the man said quietly to no one in particular. “Shit, man. I couldn’t do that. I hurt myself trimming the hedges. Unreal.”

According to family members, this was at least the eighth time they’d heard this exact sentence since the Colts kicked off the night before, though officials believe the actual count may be significantly higher.

“Dad, have you not moved since last night?” his daughter asked, inching closer. “Why don’t you come out of that chair? The Colts game is over, dad. Phil did good dad. Better... Better than we could have hoped...”

The man briefly blinked, as if registering a disturbance in the room he couldn’t quite place. For a moment, it appeared he might respond. Instead, he reached for the beer can on the table beside him... the same one he’d been holding when the game ended the night before. He brought it to his mouth on instinct alone, took a cautious sip of what was now undoubtedly empty, then let out a long breath through his nose.

“Not the season we wanted,” he murmured. “But man… guy can still sling it. Unreal.”