The tweets, or whatever we call them in the days of X, came fast and furious after I wrote about the Washington Post's explosive Jim Irsay story.
Let the man rest in peace.
How dare you go dancing on his grave?
The man had an addiction; the Indianapolis Colts had no reason to share the news of Irsay's last couple of relapses. Show some respect.
I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry I wrote about the Washington Post story, not sorry I was critical of the Colts. Irsay, the Colts owner since 1997 who was born and raised in the franchise, was a public figure in life, a larger-than-life figure, and he remains a public figure in death.
We're talking here about a man who ran a very public enterprise, one that continues to be enriched by taxpayer dollars. If you are a Colts fan, don't you want to know -- hell, need to know -- that the man in charge is in his right mind and not altered by drugs? Look at some of the reckless moves Irsay has made in recent years. Does anybody thing he was all there?
I am convinced the only reason Colts general manager Chris Ballard returned for a ninth year is because Irsay was in no shape to do mass interviews and pick a new general manager.
I say this as someone who got relatively close to Irsay over the years, sharing many of the same interests, like music and literature. One day, he called me into his office to check out the Jack Kerouac "On The Road" scroll, which remains the most fascinating item in his vast collection. When Irsay and Peyton Manning were going through their very public divorce in 2011, I must have spoken to Irsay -- and Manning, for that matter -- more than I spoke to my wife.
But he was troubled. Clearly, he was troubled.
All you had to do was look at him and it was painfully apparent the drugs had taken ahold of him again. We are the same age, 65, and yet, he looked significantly older than me (and it's not like I take good care of myself).
His bizarre decision-making in recent years was another tell, like benching Matt Ryan, mandating Sam Ehlinger start against the Patriots, then hiring old buddy Jeff Saturday off the ESPN set. He also put pressure on Ballard and Colts coach Shane Steichen to play quarterback Anthony Richardson, their first-round pick in 2023, right away, a mistake for which they are still paying the price.
The fans had a right to know, and the Colts, who spearhead the Kick The Stigma program to address mental health and addiction, should have de-stigmatized Irsay's troubles by sharing information of his struggles.
I don't say any of this to be mean-spirited, even if it may come off that way. And this is not an indictment or Irsay himself, who suffered terribly in the final few years. Rather, it's an indictment of the Colts for circumventing the truth about Irsay's condition, and it's an indictment of the doctor in charge of Irsay's care, Dr. Harry Haroutunian, who signed the death certificate after years of providing Irsay with prescription about along with ketmamine -- that's the same drug that killed famous "Friends" actor Matthew Perry.
Come this Sunday, Irsay will be remembered fonding and will be place in the Colts' Ring of Honor alongside his father, Robert, who brought the Colts from Baltimore to Indianapolis in 1984. Nobody will talk about the misery of his final years, and nobody will care.
This will be a celebration of a generous soul who gave so much to the region and was, all things considered, a very fine NFL owner -- or, as he liked to call himself, a steward.
But the last few years were a horror show, and the Colts did their lever best to hide the truth from their fans. The Washington Post laid that out quite thoroughly.
The truth isn't always pretty. But it needed to be shared, and if that makes you uncomfortable, I can't help you.
Bob Kravitz is an award-winning columnist who has been in the sports journalism business for 43 years. He's worked at Sports Illustrated, the Indianapolis Star, The Athletic and other publications, and is now an Indiana-based publisher at Roundtable Sports. You can follow him on X @bkravitz.