RIP Jim Irsay, whose generous spirit will live on

This one hurts. I knew Jim fairly well, had lots of interesting conversations with him, talked about the Beat Generaton and rock 'n roll and football. I'll miss him desperately.

We knew this day was coming, likely sooner rather than later. Jim Irsay lived a hard life, dealt with a lifelong addiction to narcotics, and at age 65, he looked far older than his chronological age. We knew this day was coming; I can guarantee that every journalistic outlet in town had a ready-made obituary they could run the day he passed. This is gutting, but it’s not altogether surprising.

And yet, I still feel it deeply. I thought we’d have more time with Jim and his wonderful weirdness, his audacious tweets and comments and videos and the rest.

I feel this one. Like Irsay, I’m also 65. He went to high school at Loyola in suburban Chicago, attending at the same time I went to New Trier West, right down the street from his private high school. I always felt a kinship with Jim; we both loved the counterculture and rock ‘n roll and journalism, which he majored in at SMU. The first time we met, he showed me his copy of Hunter S. Thompson’s “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream.” Inside, Thompson wrote a very long and personal inscription to Jim, who was one of his great friends.

One day many years ago, I was hanging out in the Colts’ press room when I received a text that Jim wanted to see me in his office. My first thought, naturally, was “OK, what did I write now?” I figured I was in for a verbal showdown of some sort. Not at all, as it worked out. He knew I was a huge fan of the Beat Generation poets and authors, and invited me back to his office to check out his latest acquisition: The scroll upon which author Jack Kerouac wrote the iconic book, “On The Road.” It remains one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

His collection was never about self-gratification; it was something he wanted to share with the world. One of my favorite days were when the Jim Irsay Band, featuring giants like Buddy Guy and Mike Mills, played free concerts at Lucas Oil on the eve of the season opener. Man, he loved that band, and even though he was no great singer, it was great fun to see him belt out Warren Zevon’s “Lawyers, Guns and Money.”

For many years, we had a marvelous relationship, even if I did stress things on occasion by criticizing him and the organization. When I was let go by WTHR several years ago, he was one of the first people to reach out to me to see how I was doing. After the Super Bowl, he sent me a small self-published book he’d written with a long poem about that magical season. We came up at the same time, roughly in the same place. He always said he had the heart of a poet and a writer, and he surely did. The man could write; trust me.

Yesterday, I was gutted. Devastated. Today, not much better. I’m at that age when some of my friends are coming face to face with their mortality, and I’ve had my issues with my balky heart. This feels personal on many levels.

I hope he finds peace. I hope the pain is gone.

But damn, what a legacy he leaves. Yeah, he presided over one of the great teams in NFL history during the Peyton Manning glory years, but for my money, the most important thing he accomplished was the Kick The Stigma program geared toward de-stigmatizing and prioritizing the importance of mental health. Jim struggled most of his life, and as someone who had worked through some mental-health challenges in my own life, I felt a kinship to Jim. This is going to sound crazy, I know, but he was the most down-to-earth billionaire I can ever imagine knowing (not that I know a lot of billionaires; OK, he was the only one I’ve known).

But God, he loved his football team. I know that sounds dumb; doesn’t every owner love his football team? Well, actually, no, they don’t. For many of them, the football team is just another business in a catalogue of successful businesses they own. For Jim Irsay, though, the Colts were his first love (besides his family, of course). And he knew football, knew it better than any other NFL owners, having grown up around the Baltimore Colts and working menial jobs on his way up the ladder. He made mistakes, for sure, notably the decision to fire Frank Reich and hire Jeff Saturday. He got a little bit too hands-on in his later years as the team’s steward (he preferred that term over “owner.”)

It's one of the reasons why I’m bullish on the fact his daughters will now take over the franchise, especially Carlie Irsay-Gordon, who’s been deeply involved in the team’s day-to-day activities for years. We see her on the sidelines on game day, wearing a headset. We see her on the field at practice and training camp. Like her father, she’s learned the game and the team from the ground up. I recently spoke to someone who used to work for the Colts, and he told me Carlie and her sisters are well-suited to take over the franchise when the time comes.

That time came Wednesday.

I just hope there was no pain, no struggle.

I’ll miss Jim. I’ll miss those epic late-night phone calls. I’d be hanging out at home and here would come a call from “No Caller ID,” and I knew, it was either Peyton Manning or Irsay. Jim would call me at odd hours and he’d just talk. And talk. And talk. Conversations with him were a giant non sequitur, one subject bleeding into the next and into the next. Sometimes, he’d be in a great mood. Sometimes, he’d call pissed off, usually about something Manning told me about the impending Irsay-Manning divorce. If I’m being honest, I sensed that he was under the influence of one thing or another, but our conversations were always fascinating. For a while there, my wife joked that I talked to Irsay and Manning more than I talked to her – which, for a time, was probably true.

The man had a big heart. His spirit of generosity was unmatched. Once, I wrote a story about a cancer-stricken young man who desperately wanted to attend a championship college football game. Jim read it and immediately made his plane available for the boy and his family to attend the game in Florida. He did those kinds of things all the time. The generosity – and I know I keep coming back to that word – was central to his being. I remember sitting in his office shortly after his arrest and noting that he had around $25,000 in cash sitting in his briefcase. Why? Because he loved giving money away, whether it was a waitress or a homeless person or whoever he happened to come across that day.

Damn, this hurts.

My heart goes out to the Irsay family and the Colts organization. He was a special man. I’ll miss those late-night calls. I’ll miss Jim and our conversations. God bless him and his family.