How I Will Remember Steve McNair

Seven days ago our fair city of Nashville, TN was hit with monstrous and sad news. The beloved former star quarterback of the Tennessee Titans was found murdered. Amongst all of the hullabaloo of the circumstances of his death were the different emotions and opinions about how to remember Steve McNair.

The many conversations that I have had with the wife, moms, Uncle Grizz, Nelson, G-Man and everyone else coupled with the hours upon hours of television coverage, not to mention the amazing radio coverage by local sports talk icon George Plaster and his crew, have led me to one conclusion. The following is a brief timeline of how I got to where I am in regards to Steve today.

Initially I was shocked when I first read the news via, of all places, Twitter. It was sad to think that a man as young as Steve, only one year my senior, could be taken from the world in such a violent manner. I am such a huge sports fan and football is generally my number one or two to follow. When the Titans, then the Oilers, came to Tennessee I was thrilled. The idea of having our very own top tier sports franchise was intoxicating. Although the Titans are not my first love as far as football goes, I learned to root and cheer for them and get emotionally attached anyway. Steve, along with Eddie George, Frank Wycheck, coach Jeff Fisher were the catalysts for not just a love affair with football for me but for the entire Nashville population. We lived and died with every game and Steve was the man who led us into those weekly battles. I still remember the emotions, anger, disgust, sadness, when ‘our team’ came up one yard short in the Super Bowl.

The news then came out that Steve was murdered by his girlfriend. The biggest issue with that was, of course, Steve was married. The major uproar was then turned into anger at his infidelity. Many people I know were sickened at how everyone spoke of his heroic nature and philanthropic tendencies. They questioned his abilities as a father and husband, myself included. The situation was exacerbated for some due to the overwhelming news coverage when other events (Iran, Afghanistan, Sarah Palin just to name a few) were virtually ignored, overlooked and pushed to the back burner.

Finally all of the details came out as to what the police believe were the circumstances surrounding his death. It was horrible for me. A man of his physical stature never having an opportunity to defend himself just seemed like a gutless act. Then the other day I watched Steve’s memorial service here in Nashville. I heard how his friends thought of him. I heard about specifics in regards to his community service and was impressed.

I had read online somewhere that some fanatical religious group had been picketing his memorial service. I saw a photo on the Nashville Is Talking website that disturbed me.

I became angry. Now I am not a regular attendant at my church as I know that I should be but I have had many years of Bible study, I have learned many lessons from my family and I like to think that I have plenty of common sense but it just seems funny to me that these people and many others like them would spout of like this. The last I checked we were taught that we are not the judge, God is. To condemn a man to Hell for his acts of infidelity doesn’t really make us better than him, does it? This was done where not only Steve’s friends could see, but his wife and children. How would these people feel if they died and someone made up signs like these for their kids to see?

I had started judge Steve, I admit that. Then I thought to myself, “hey you have made some dumbass decisions in your life and so have some of your closest friends and family.” Should we not be forgiven for our missteps? If we are not forgiven by an all loving God, then why bother learning from mistakes at all?

Did Steve make an error in judgment? Sure he did. Should we think less of him for this? I would say to you that since he did nothing to me then the answer is an emphatic ‘no’. If his children and wife feel anger towards him, they have that right. For you and me, we do not. Remember “let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” I expect that no one will be holding rocks.

This is how I will remember Steve McNair:

He should be remembered as the greatest sports hero in the history of Nashville as well as a humanitarian. If you think otherwise maybe you should look in the mirror and think long and hard about your imperfections. That’s my two cents anyway.

I Think Mr. Bean Lives Here

The School Girl came into the den while I was on the computer and said:

”Don’t freak out when you go into the dining room. One of the chairs stuck to the wall and some of the paint came off.”

Some of the paint? Holy crap! How much would a lot have been? For future reference, if the paint chips DON’T KEEP PICKING AT IT UNTIL IT’S THE SIZE OF A SMALL COUNTRY!

I guess it’s as good excuse as any to have G-Man, SueBoo and the family over to paint/drink. Sheesh!

Loss

It has been a little over a week since our loss. It seems odd that losing him, someone that had spent so little time as a part of our family, could be so distressing. Yes, he was truly a part of our family. He was sweet and loving and he accepted our love genuinely. A bond was formed that I never expected between him and us. You may find it a little strange, especially knowing the type of person that I am, to have felt so close to him. Generally, I tend to be devoid of emotions and sometimes, some would say, a little cold and a bit angry. It appears that he and his brothers, with a huge assist from my wonderful wife, have begun the long, arduous process of breaking down these walls. I think the hand written note we received from the doctor the other day brought to light that death, even in your pets, can be a heavy burden and a stress that can linger.

It has been eight days since I dug the hole in the backyard. It has been eight days since I wrapped up our little guy, who we watched suffer and die in my wife’s arms, and put him into the ground. It has been eight days since I wrote his name on a brick, to be used as a headstone, and laid a flower on his grave.

As of this morning, looking back there in the yard still brings a hint of sadness which is atypical for me. I do think that the burial was cathartic and it does show, even in the smallest way, that I have grown emotionally. I know that there is nothing wrong with a grown man, a father and husband to cry, even if only for one small, helpless, lonely kitten because he was truly a member of our family.

Rest in peace little Anthony Van Dyck. Your family misses you.