Jim Irsay, the longtime owner of the Indianapolis Colts, died at 65. (Justin Casterline/Getty Images)
INDIANAPOLIS — The NFL C-suite just got a lot less interesting.
Jim Irsay, the owner of the Indianapolis Colts, died Wednesday. A statement from the team said he “passed away peacefully in his sleep,” but that doesn’t feel quite right. For Irsay, a more fitting end would be that he went out with “Paperback Writer” blasting through his mind, as he pictured John Lennon shredding those licks on the very guitar that he purchased for $530,000.
With all due respect to the one-percenters and daddy’s special boys who own and run other NFL franchises, Irsay was the most fascinating of the bunch. The rock star and the rebel. His presence among his filthy rich peers as amplified and distorted as a Fender Stratocaster would be at a nice, decent tea party.
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Irsay broke away from the conventional and conservative. How many other owners would stand in the middle of a victorious locker room, among his gleeful and half-dressed players, and when that beat drops in Meek Mill’s “Dreams and Nightmares,” turn all the way up without a shred of self consciousness? Who else would make such a weird flex about asking President Barack Obama to sign his 200-year old copy of the Declaration of Independence, or publicly pledge $20 million to fly Tokitae, the killer whale, across the country while his star running back Jonathan Taylor grumbled for a new contract? And in the midst of those tense negotiations, name another owner who’d roll up to training camp wearing dark sunglasses and evoke death to diminish Taylor’s trade request.
“I mean, if I die tonight and Jonathan Taylor’s out of the league, no one’s going to miss us. The league goes on,” Irsay told reporters in July 2023. “It doesn’t matter who comes and who goes.”
Scenes like these, and transparency like that, made Irsay an easy target for mockery. However, the NFL owners box now feels a lot less honest.
Irsay didn’t save his bluntness just for contract disputes with players. He was the one owner bold enough to break ranks with the timid majority. Even after the congressional probes and allegations that the Washington Commanders’ professional work setting felt more like a fraternity house on a Friday night, Daniel Snyder’s peers remained in business-as-usual silence. Maybe an anonymous quote popped up here or there, but no owner stepped up and stood 10 toes down on the right side of decency. Until Irsay.
This happened at the ownership meetings in 2022, while surrounded by cameras and recorders. Though his speech took a winding path until it finally got to the point, and “umms” filtered his cigarette-seasoned rumble of a voice, Irsay should have been taken seriously when he became the first NFL owner to say Snyder had to go.
“That’s not what we stand for in the National Football League. And I think owners have been painted incorrectly a lot of times by various people and under various situations. And that’s not what we’re about,” Irsay said. “There’s just a lot of closeness in this league. And I don’t think, some of the things I’ve heard, it doesn’t represent us at all. And I want the American public and the world to know what we’re about as owners.”
That same year, the Haslams, Jim and Dee, made their brave stand as the Cleveland Browns owners’ by giving a $230 million contract to a quarterback accused of sexual misconduct by more than 20 massage therapists. The next season, David Tepper, the hedge fund manager who now runs the Carolina Panthers, showed his courage in the face of adversity by tossing a drink on a fan. From two rows deep in his luxury suite.
These are the kind of people who operate the league’s teams. They’re imperfect and sometimes shameful, but at least one owner showed some honesty about his scars.
Indeed, Irsay, who was 65, inherited his career and wealth from his father. But that wasn’t all Robert Irsay passed down to his son. Jim battled the disease of addiction, just like his dad. He was forthright about it. Sure, you kind of have to be if you’re pulled over by cops with a laundry bag of pills and charged with possessing a controlled substance, as Irsay was in 2014. Still, he talked openly about his addiction to drugs and alcohol and its costs: the multiple trips to rehab, that one time he went code blue. The billionaire rock’ roll NFL owner; his life was only enviable to those who think that money can buy serenity.
On the contrary, his most desirable trait should’ve been his humanity. His willingness to use his struggles and his platform to change perceptions. In 2020, Irsay created the Kicking the Stigma Action Fund, the team’s campaign centered on mental health. Though the topic has penetrated society and sports, the NFL can still be a league steeped in macho stoicism when it comes to any pain outside of broken bones and strained tendons. So, Irsay and his Colts championed that “Mental Health is Heath.” The crusade was featured during the team’s season on “Hard Knocks,” and celebrities like Snoop Dogg and Rob Lowe shared testimonials. All because Irsay wanted to help normalize mental health awareness in football and for its fans. Today, the community of owners feels a lot less compassionate.
Jim Irsay was a man of means, and many, many contradictions. He empowered the first Black head coach, Tony Dungy, to lead a team to a Super Bowl win, and followed Dungy’s tenure by hiring Jim Caldwell. However, Irsay wasn’t above running his team like any other siloed capitalist, yanking his pal Jeff Saturday off the ESPN set and naming him interim coach during the 2022 season. Rich guys tend to let their friends skip the line. Also, as self-aware Irsay appeared to be, he still didn’t understand that he should have never made the cringe claim about feeling unfairly targeted by police because he was a “rich, White billionaire.”
Like every other NFL owner, Irsay was a flawed human being. What made him different: He wasn’t afraid to be just that. Without Irsay, the billionaire club of NFL owners just got a lot less authentic.