"That's the owner's son," someone sighed, and that was to be the first look at I ever had at the bumptious oaf named Jim Irsay.
Irsay, son of Bob Irsay, a man who went to his reward in 1997 and left the Colts (since moved to Indianapolis, in case you missed the story) to Sonny Jim. Bob Irsay was the plumbing and heating contractor who traded the Rams for the Colts with Carroll Rosenbloom, a man so anxious to move in higher circles that he became the sixth husband of a former showgirl named Georgia. Rosenbloom moved to LA with his trophy wife and drowned seven years later under circumstances not entirely clear, and it was to be some fifteen months until Georgia found solace in the arms of Dominic Frontiere, who was her steadfast companion until he went to jail for scalping Super Bowl tickets. When Dominic walked out of the Walled-Off Astoria, Georgia dumped him, but gave up on marriage after only seven tries, and became the companion, for nineteen years, of a man named Earle Weatherwax.
And you think YOUR family is screwy?
But Robert "Bob" Irsay, whose hand I personally shook as he, drunk as a lemur, staggered through the stands at Memorial Stadium during a game in 1978, is the man whose own elderly widowed mother called him "the devil on earth."
That had to sting.
|Kerouac and scroll|
So, you only won the Super Bowl once, and you're gone. You filled the seats, got the Colts a new stadium with the fan support of your play, and you've moved on to a new job. It was not a sporting, or pleasant, or warranted slap at the memory of a man who actually went out and accomplished something in his life. Jim Irsay became the owner of the Colts because he was his father's son.
And that is really too bad.