"He's the Horseshoe."

The Indianapolis Colts endure as one of the NFL's finest franchises because of one rather unusual individual. Growing up with his football team made the man curious and inquisitive, fiercely competitive yet genuinely sincere, stylish and yet sometimes just downright silly, an overgrown kid with a tremendous heart.

That's Jim Irsay.

"Everybody else comes and goes," said Tom Zupancic, former longtime Colts employee. "He's the horseshoe."

The 53-year-old Colts owner started as a wide-eyed, 12-year-old ball boy making $5 per week and just happy to be in an NFL locker room. His ascendance through the decades would take him through every departmental layer of what would one day be his organization.

Sure, Irsay hates to lose, but his team had to mean more than that. When a staffer mentions the "heart behind the horseshoe," it starts with Irsay's expectation for everyone to impact the community. That includes having players eager to interact with the public. He's a man of conviction who at 17 had the guts to board a preseason bus and apologize to the entire team for the irrational behavior of his reactionary father, Robert. In the serenity of his musical world, his passionate, poetic soul has a rhythm that reminds us that life still has to be fun.

Some might remember Irsay's early days as a rather young general manager in 1992 when disgruntled running back Eric Dickerson snickered, "He deserves to be a general manager as much as Daffy Duck does."

By 1999, Irsay had become the owner when he phoned Dickerson to invite the Hall of Famer to return to town and be recognized as the first former Indianapolis Colts player inducted in Canton, Ohio. Irsay left a message on the answering machine: "This is Daffy Duck calling, give me a call back." Dickerson cracked up. "I heard that, and you can't believe how hard I started laughing," he said. "I still have it on my answering machine."

Dickerson showed up. Irsay wore goggles just like the running back once did as he presented Dickerson with a framed jersey.

That's the man some still call Jimmy, a free spirit who didn't see the point of holding a grudge. While known these days as Jim or Mr. Irsay, his eventual rise in NFL stature never included distancing himself from the public. While the playbook for quirky, wealthy men typically includes seclusion, Irsay went the other way. Check out his Twitter account, with more than 221,000 followers keeping an eye on him, whether he's quizzing on obscure music lyrics or offering a contest to give away tickets. One trivia-triumphant follower won a car.

Irsay obviously recognized the shortcomings of his father, who didn't always connect with people.

"I know he's learned from his father's mistakes," said Colts chief operating officer Pete Ward, 55, who started as an intern in 1981 and rose through the ranks to become Irsay's right hand.

"Bob Irsay didn't know anything about football or people," said Robin Miller, 63, who covered the Colts from 1984 to 2001 as a columnist at The Indianapolis Star. "Jim Irsay knows a lot about people, and he's learned a lot about football."

It's simple math. The Colts were 153–226–1 in the regular season with Robert as owner. They're 157–99 with Jim. In the playoffs, Robert was 2–6 while Jim is 8–11 with a Super Bowl XLI ring. Jim's franchise set NFL records with 115 wins in a decade from 2000 to 2009 and seven consecutive 12-win seasons.

"I'm proud of what Jimmy has become," said retired Colts linebacker Barry Krauss, 56. "He's changed the face of the franchise."

One of the more important lessons learned has been to let people do their jobs. Former coaches Tony Dungy and Jim Mora testified to that. When the team won, there weren't any extra suggestions on how to make it better. When the team lost, Irsay reaffirmed belief in his people. Dungy had to encourage Irsay to become a locker-room visitor because the owner didn't want to give the wrong impression. He doesn't need the obligatory TV camera shot of himself on the sideline.

Ward says Irsay's promotion to general manager at the age of 25 in 1984 made it easy for skeptics to underestimate his boss. It motivated Irsay to work harder to prove himself. But he started paying attention long before that. Ward shared a camp office with Irsay in 1982 and couldn't help but be nervous. At first.

"The thing that shocked me was he would take time to ask me questions and listen to my thoughts," Ward said. "That just blew me away."

After arriving in Indianapolis, Jim Irsay made an immediate connection in radio appearances on The Bob & Tom Show.

"I figured he was just the owner's kid and they would give him a salary and a title," said co-host Bob Kevoian, 62. "I was really amazed at how much he knew. He studied. He really was well-versed in the game."

Others who played for him echo that.

"He knows football," said retired offensive tackle Tarik Glenn. "I don't know how many owners have been around football their whole lives. To have an owner like that is pretty special."

Retired offensive linemen Will Wolford and Joe Staysniak are still part of radio broadcasts. "You line up all the owners in the league and you measure their football intelligence and their ability to run a program," Wolford said. "I think Jim Irsay is on the very, very short list of guys who you want to play for because of the success the Colts have had. It's not an accident. Not at all."

What resonates with Staysniak is Irsay's desire. "I don't think people understand the fire that he has to win," Staysniak said. "It's fun to follow him on Twitter, that's one part of Jimmy Irsay. I'm sure he has fun doing that, but the football side of Jimmy Irsay, he wants to win and win badly."

This intensity was most evident in the weight room. Tom Zupancic, called "Zup" during his days as strength and conditioning coach and in the front office, loved working out with his boss. He can still visualize it now. The clanging sound of weights being slammed. Dire Straits singing, "Money for Nothing," on the boom box. Slap the belt on. Get serious. Ammonia tabs flying. Smack the hands and spray that powder in the air.

"He's a guy who could squat 700 pounds one day, and then he could be training for a marathon the next day," said Zup, 57. "He was obsessive about working out. He worked out as hard as any player."

And Irsay has put in the same effort with the public. When hearing of a fan in need, he didn't hesitate to ask executive assistant Cathy Catellier to send tickets and money. People don't realize how often this happens because Irsay prefers that these things not be publicized. Again, it's not about drawing attention to himself.

"As much as Jim wants to win, and believe me, he wants to win as much as the coaches and players, his heart goes so much deeper," said Catellier, 62. "He cares about the fans."

When a single mother phoned to thank Irsay for sending money and tickets, Catellier informed, "I just get to be the giver for the angel who did this."

Seriously, what owner has a contest to give away five Super Bowl XLI rings to fans after he finally won his first? Irsay handled "Quest For A Ring" with a flair for showmanship, walking down the steps of Monument Circle decked out in a white tuxedo, blue Colts top hat, and blue vest, toting a blue-and-white cane.

"I look like Willy Wonka Elton, a...