I like the Fourth of July because it marks the passage of time. Years blend together in my mind, but I usually remember where I was every Independence Day.
This will be one that I stayed in most of the day working on our second magazine before finding out Steve McNair was shot to death. I pitched in on PFT for a few posts with details and reaction to the news, trying to find the right words.
(A last-minute trip to Daisy May's BBQ and the fireworks were a late save of holiday cheer. Like the Hudson setup.)
I didn't know Steve McNair personally, but it's amazing how something like this just takes your breath away. Stops you in your tracks.
(I have successfully avoided almost all Michael Jackson coverage. I understand his cultural impact, but it just doesn't impact me much. When I questioned the coverage, my wife reminded me how I feel when a favorite author or athlete dies. Point taken.)
McNair was an easy athlete to love following. He was a gifted player and leader. He wore his effort on his sleeve. His teammates have done an appropriate job memorializing what kind of man he was on the field. Off the field, he was the type of person that garnered respect from those who knew him the best.
The staggering circumstances surrounding his death will be the focus for now. It's dramatic nature makes that understandable. People will have opinions on what happened, why it happened, and will judge the situation before it's fair, if it ever is.
I don't know or understand enough for all that. I do understand what I saw from McNair on the field, and in his interactions with the media.
I'll remember his early prime, from 1997-2000, when his legs did a lot of the work for him. And then his peak years, from 2001-2003, when he combined his toughness with great accuracy and efficiency throwing the ball.
I'll remember those Titans teams as proof that consistent excellent play and toughness do not guarantee a Super Bowl trophy.
McNair lost to Super Bowl champions four times this decade. He came up a yard short against the Rams, was stuffed by the Ravens, and nearly beat the Patriots in Foxborough in 2003. (The Drew Bennett drop game or the "Froze our ass off" game depending on where you watched.) His final playoff appearance was a loss to the Colts after an overachieving season in Baltimore.
McNair's fantasy value reflected his persona: dependable, rarely flashy. He finished as a top-nine quarterback five times out of six healthy finishes during his peak, but never ranked higher than fifth.
He was such a steady public figure that the sudden end to his life is that much more difficult to register.
Back to fantasy in a few the morning.
