Over the 4th of July weekend, former Tennessee Titans quarterback Steve "Air" McNair was murdered in a condo he was renting with a friend in downtown Nashville. He was the murder portion of a murder-suicide carried out by a 20 year old woman originally from Florida with whom he had been carrying on a months-long affair. Worse still, in a nearly statistically impossible irony, McNair had taped a suicide prevention message in April of this year. Given that McNair's murderer committed suicide after killing him, Tennessee state officials have properly decided not to air that public service announcement.
Many columnists have written about the unfortunate circumstances surrounding McNair's death. Elizabeth Merrill of espn.com has written one of the more accurate, balanced articles about the dilemma of how people, especially in Nashville, are struggling with what to remember most about McNair...his play on the field, his charity off it, or the dark, sordid actions that led to his murder. The pastor at Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Nashville, presiding over McNair's memorial service, wisely reminded us all to "drop our stones" when we feel the urge to condemn Steve McNair for the sin and bad decisions that led to his life being ended so prematurely, as none of us are without sin. For social commentary, what this means to black men and society as a whole, you absolutely can't beat Jason Whitlock's column, entitled "Don't Be So Quick to Make McNair a Hero". I strongly recommend that you read the whole thing, but here's a taste of the best from Whitlock's article:
"We can quit calling Steve McNair a great leader now. Leadership starts at home. And I'm no longer all that interested in hearing about the community service work McNair did in Tennessee and Mississippi. Service to community begins at home, too. ...
Until the police wrap up their investigation, I'm only willing to acknowledge four victims — McNair's four sons. I don't know how to classify the adults in this saga — McNair, his wife Mechelle or his 20-year-old girlfriend, Sahel "Jenny" Kazemi. The kids, they're victims of two horrific crimes: 1. the murder of their father; 2. their father's apparent abandonment so that he had time to wine, dine, vacation and shack up with his jump-off. ...
What we do know is that McNair had four sons. And based on the observations and comments of Kazemi's neighbors and neighbors at the condominium McNair rented, McNair spent so much time with Kazemi over the past few months that people assumed they lived together.
You see, this is my problem with McNair, with American men as a whole.
We shirk our responsibilities as fathers. We don't have time for it. We think it's a part- or no-time job. We think our career is more important. We think charity work is more important. We think some young tail is more important.
We foolishly believe we're unnecessary in the rearing of children. This mindset must die. ...
I think it's ridiculous and embarrassing that he spent so much time chasing after a Nashville waitress that he created the impression he lived with her. Many have tried, but you can't maintain two homes, two families. If HBO has shown us anything, it's that kids are the losers when it comes to Big Love.
You can't live with a waitress in a condo/apartment, take her parasailing, clubbing, to Vegas and raise a brood of boys living in a home on the other side of town. Kids are game-changers. Kids require sacrifice. Kids are a daily and sometimes hourly responsibility. You don't properly raise them in your spare time with money, fame, gifts and glowing newspaper and magazine stories about your courage to play on Sundays despite injury and pain. Steve McNair sounds like a warrior who fought the wrong war. He won a public-relations battle.
Steve McNair was flawed in the same way as most American men.
Too many men think financial success is their primary and most important contribution to a relationship with their kids, wives and/or girlfriends. A grown woman has the right to settle for that. Children shouldn't have to settle for anything less than their father's very best effort."
Here is what I remember about Steve McNair. Tennessee had no football team until the late 1990's, and when they first got here, they played in Memphis, then at Vanderbilt's stadium until what is now L.P. Field was fully built and ready to be played in. I had followed the NFL all my life, and at different times, I liked different teams as a kid, from Jim McMahon and the '85 Super Bowl champion Bears, to John Elway and the back-to-back world champion Denver Broncos, to the Aikman-Irvin-Smith triumvirate and the three-time world champion Dallas Cowboys...but I never had a team of my own to follow until the Titans arrived. Steve McNair was our first quarterback, and much like a first love, true football fans never forget their first quarterback.
Steve McNair the football player was not so different than the man he was in the real world as we learned in the days after his death...talented, but flawed. McNair was co-MVP of the league in 2003 along with Peyton Manning, led the Titans to their only Super Bowl appearance, and single-handedly led the comeback in many games the Titans should have lost. On the other hand, for all his success throwing deep at Alcorn State back in college, he consistently threw one of the worst deep balls in the NFL, and he threw entirely too many interceptions. Also, later in his career when too many hits had sapped his mobility, his limitations operating as a pocket passer were badly exposes, especially in his last years with the Baltimore Ravens. Because of his limitations, both my father and I predicted that the Titans would not be able to win a Super Bowl with McNair as our quarterback, and unfortunately, we were right.
What I remember most about McNair was his toughness, his grit, and his willingness to play through pain. When I played college football at Middle Tennessee State University, there were many times I wanted to quit, but it was McNair's example (among others) that helped me to keep going. I once thought so much of McNair and his toughness, I briefly considered getting a tattoo on my arm that said "Mac-9", but as with every other fleeting notion I ever had of getting a tattoo, it went away (thank goodness). The moment I will never forget about McNair was the the look on his face after the Music City Miracle back in the 2000 playoffs...it was one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen, a look of absolute elation, and reminded me once again of why men play and watch football.
Much as with the death of Michael Jackson, I view Steve McNair's untimely death and his life leading up to that point as every bit the lawyer and Christian that I am...with eyes wide open, with a full appreciation for the off-the-field good and charity work he did, with admiration at the type of football player and leader he was, but with regret at all the good he still had left to do which will forever remain undone, with the knowledge that but for the grace of God that I as a man could end up in a similar situation, and with sadness at the tragedy being endured by his wife and children. Rest in Peace Air McNair, I hope you are flying with the angels and tossing footballs to Jesus and the NFL greats of ages past.
