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Sunday’s game between the Indianapolis Colts and the Tennessee Titans started like normal. On the CBS broadcast, the Colts could be seen lining up for the opening kickoff, and in the far background danced six Titans cheerleaders, each in short denim shorts, red bandannas, white boots and blue flannel shirts tied up above their belly buttons. The getup looked straight out of Spirit Halloween, the kind of costume you could find in the “sexy cowgirl” section, because those are the outfits normally assigned to cheerleaders in the NFL.
Minutes later, following an interception returned for a touchdown by Colts cornerback Kenny Moore II, CBS cameras caught the heartwarming moment when Moore gave the football to his mother in the stands, where women affiliated with a team normally sit. And later, the sideline reporter—young, blond and wearing a denim body suit—appeared on the screen to offer a non-update update, as the female television journalists largely restricted to football’s sideline, and not the booth, normally do.
The airing of the game played out as it normally does, with flashes of women on the periphery. They are hardly noticed and never in the way. That is, until Carlie Irsay-Gordon, the co-owner and CEO of the Colts, fills the screen.
You can’t miss her. This season, during the airing of every Colts game, she has been the blue thumb sticking out on the team’s sideline. She’s the one wearing a headset and carrying a notebook, constantly scribbling only she knows what while strolling behind but not far from the coaches.
Her face, sometimes hidden beneath reflective aviator shades or a statement piece of a white oversize fedora, reveals little to nothing at all. Her aura feels impenetrable. And her presence provides the antithesis of the way NFL broadcasts normally present femininity.
Watch any NFL game, and women are everywhere. They are not the main show, nor am I suggesting they should be. (It is a sign of respect, though, that Patrick Mahomes’s latest State Farm commercial showcases Kansas City Chiefs assistant athletic trainer Julie Frymyer, the woman he credited for his rehab ahead of Super Bowl LVII.) Half the country tunes in every week to NFL games for the entertainment that is football—that’s it. During these broadcasts, however, women are introduced in a way that comes across as merely complementary.
The half-dressed cheerleaders delight as eye candy. The platinum-haired sideline reporters (veterans of the game Pam Oliver and Lisa Salters are visible exceptions to this rule) appeal to a certain demographic. The supportive mamas, wives and girlfriends (or fiancées if you watch Chiefs games) flash across the screen when their man makes a play.
This is how women are commonly shown during NFL games. Until, that is, the owner of the Colts takes over the broadcast. Carlie Irsay-Gordon is anything but normal.
“I would suggest it for anyone else that has to pay coaches and GMs millions and millions of dollars,” she said earlier in the summer, explaining why she has worn a headset and stood on the sideline for years. “It helps you make a less expensive mistake, potentially.”
During the Colts’ surprising 3-0 start, television producers have made it a point to highlight Irsay-Gordon because she is a rarity among NFL owners—and because, obviously, she’s a woman.
After the death of Jim Irsay, who had owned the franchise since 1997, his three daughters (Carlie Irsay-Gordon, Casey Foyt and Kalen Jackson) transitioned into power in June. While the younger two took over with various titles that go with their ownership roles—Foyt serves as executive vice president, while Jackson is the chief brand officer and president of the Indianapolis Colts Foundation—only Irsay-Gordon holds the concise title that comes with no filler: owner and CEO. With that, the Colts have become one of 12 NFL franchises to have at least one woman in active ownership, each of them the spouse, widow, offspring or heiress of a male owner.
The other reason cameras keep showing Irsay-Gordon on the sideline is, well, she’s an owner stalking the sideline. We have seen Arthur Blank come down from his suite to the turf near the end of Atlanta Falcons victories, Jerry Jones attract a horde of cameras and microphones after every Dallas Cowboys game like flies to manure, and even minority owner Tom Brady sit in the coaches’ booth for the Las Vegas Raiders. But Irsay-Gordon has taken her role to places we’ve hardly seen.
She is the owner with the notepad. And while Jones loves giving a folksy sound bite every chance he gets, there’s something more striking—and formidable—about a woman silently chronicling her thoughts, just as Irsay-Gordon did during her first on-screen appearance Sunday. Even before CBS ran a segment introducing her, she was spotted around midfield, near the front of the sideline and not blending in at all. Like an exam proctor, she struck an imposing figure, but in a blue-and-white pattern jacket and dress. And with that ever-present notebook.
In ways that have nothing to do with her gender, yes, the sight of Irsay-Gordon strolling along the sideline and scribbling notes can come across as that of a helicopter owner—like Vivek Ranadivé suggesting his Sacramento Kings employ YMCA tactics of playing 4-on-5 on defense so the fifth player can cherry-pick for layups or Woody Johnson reportedly using Madden video game ratings to make personnel decisions for his New York Jets. And yet, some of the reaction on social media to Irsay-Gordon’s presence on the sideline feels amplified because she’s a woman.
While the majority of the posts are a mix of praise and curiosity, she also has been called “boss lady” and a “broad.” She has been likened to meddling owner Rachel Phelps from the baseball comedy “Major League” and even Lara Croft, the protagonist of the Tomb Raider video game franchise. Being the most powerful person in a sports franchise can’t keep Irsay-Gordon from the experiences of an everyday woman—her physical appearance and her outfits have become topics of discussion. People just cannot be normal about her.
But Irsay-Gordon is not a cheerleader—she’s fully dressed, for one, and it’s so hard to do those sexy hair whips when you’re wearing a headset. Neither is she someone’s mom cheering from the expensive seats, nor the subjectively attractive television reporter. She stands out for what she is not—she is not normal. She’s not a boss lady, just a boss. And the boss is making that sideline hers.
Candace Buckner is a sports columnist and critic. She joined The Post in August 2016 to cover the Washington Wizards after spending three years covering the Indiana Pacers at The Indianapolis Star.
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Just a boss. Leading a winning team. And she is fire.