Gregg Doyel

The video is staggering. The Jim Irsay video. No, not that one. Not the one of Irsay being pulled over in March by Carmel police, teetering on shaky and withered legs before being led away in handcuffs.

Well, that video was staggering too.

But that's not the one I'm talking about. I'm talking about the video of Irsay in the Colts locker room this past Sunday, receiving a game ball from coach Chuck Pagano after the victory against Cincinnati in Irsay's first game back after a six-game suspension for the March DUI.

Pagano is talking up Irsay and blinking away tears. Irsay is bawling. The players are watching, not because they have to, but because they want to. Because they adore Jim Irsay, and this is a special moment for the man who does more than write their checks.

The video is staggering because the emotion is so raw, not just from Pagano and Irsay but from the players. And also because of something Pagano says as he's handing a football to Irsay, something about Irsay's heart of gold, and how everyone in the room has seen it for themselves.

I saw that video and knew I had to write this story, after asking as many Colts as I could: Have you seen Irsay's heart of gold? Share it with me. Let me share it with others. Let's show the world another side of Irsay — not the side of him that is lampooned for tweeting melodramatically and ungrammatically, and not the side that was shown on the cruiser camera. The world knows those sides. The world has made cruel sport of those sides.

The world should see this side, too. So tell me, I say to Colts cornerback Greg Toler. Tell me about Jim Irsay.

"My first day here," Toler says, nodding. "I come here, sign my contract, and there's [Irsay]. He's walking down the hall and introduces himself and says he's happy I'm here. Everybody else wants to know about my so-called history of injuries, but he doesn't ask about that. He asks about my family and my kids. He wants to know their names. What owner does that?"

This one. So tell me about it, defensive lineman Cory Redding. You've been here since 2012. Show me Irsay's heart.

"Man, look around the corner," Redding says from his locker, and so around the corner I go. There's a hot tub big enough for the starting offense. There's a cold tub big enough for the defense. To get there I walk across thick carpet, past lockers made of cherry wood and brass.

"Mr. Irsay asked us what we needed," Redding says. "We had three little ice baths about this big" — Redding holds his hands a few inches apart — "and we told him we needed more room. He cleared out the area and got it done. Look at this locker room, what he's done for us. He spares no expense. And you come in here around Christmas-time and there's a present in every locker. That's special, bro. That's awesome."

None of this is news to Colts fans. More than 250,000 of you follow Irsay on Twitter and see his stream of giveaway tweets, offering tickets or hats or even $100. You read The Star, listen to the radio, hear the Jim Irsay stories they're not hearing in other cities.

For example, the time in 2003 Irsay heard about a man in Pensacola, Fla., whose pet dog went missing and six weeks later turned up 1,400 miles away — in Indianapolis. Irsay was flying that week to Mississippi, so he scooped up the dog, fed it a steak prepared by St. Elmo's and flew South in his private jet. When Irsay deplaned in Mississippi, he sent the dog and his jet on to Pensacola to be reunited with the owner.

Four years later tornadoes killed 20 people and devastated homes all over Central Florida. The Colts were in Miami for the Super Bowl. Irsay saw the tornado footage and wrote a check for $100,000. The only reason we know is because Florida Gov. Charlie Crist announced that bit of generosity to inspire others to give.

Irsay has given $1 million to Riley Hospital for Children and $1 million to Noble of Indiana, which cares for the disabled. He paid off a local restaurateur's $75,000 debt. He gives because he can and he wants to, and while that doesn't excuse a single one of his personal missteps, it does paint a few more hues onto the picture of who this man is.

Who he was as a kid, the son of volatile Baltimore Colts owner Robert Irsay, helps explain his connection to players today. As a kid Jim Irsay walked around the locker room picking up towels and jock straps and chatting up players. When he was 16 and his dad was particularly vicious to the team after a loss at Detroit, it was Jim who climbed onto the team bus and tearfully apologized.

Back in the Colts locker room this week, defensive tackle Montori Hughes lowers his head as he tells me that Irsay cared for him in August when Hughes' 3-month-old daughter, Maveah, died suddenly from an illness. Irsay repeatedly sought out Hughes for private conversation, prayer. Irsay provided more than that, but Hughes declined to go into detail. Irsay's heart was gold. His actions were pure. What those actions were? That's between Hughes and Irsay.

"It's not the kind of thing to talk about," Hughes said. "But he was going to do anything he needed to do for me. And he still does, to this day."

Players were peculiar about it this week, wanting to share stories about Irsay's heart but not wanting Irsay to know they were sharing. So one told me, privately, about the time Irsay gave everyone on the team a camcorder. Another told me about the Dr. Dre beatboxes he gave each player. One mentioned Irsay handing out $100 bills to fans at training camp. Two of them told me how wonderful Irsay was to Montori Hughes after Maveah's death, but both asked me not to print the details.

When Chuck Pagano was diagnosed two years ago with leukemia, Irsay was a rock for Pagano's family to lean on. What precisely did Irsay do for Pagano? It goes unspoken, other than the overall effect.

"He saved my life," Pagano says.

Says backup Colts quarterback Matt Hasselbeck, "Chuck almost can't talk about Mr. Irsay without crying. Players notice that."

Here's what I noticed: Players went out of their way to talk with me about Irsay. Hughes, Toler, Dwayne Allen, Adam Vinatieri, more. Franchise quarterback Andrew Luck speaks to the media after one practice a week, but when I approached him separately to ask about Irsay he gave me all the time I needed. Hasselbeck was halfway to the parking lot when I told him my story, and he stopped walking and started talking. Redding finished his own media scrum on Wednesday, packed up his stuff, and as he saw me coming he said, "One question." OK, I said: It's about Jim Irsay.

"Sit down," Redding said.

Follow Gregg Doyel on Twitter: @GreggDoyelStar