McNair's Once Impeccable Legacy Turns To Sex, Blood, Death
Posted Jul 05, 2009 8:40PM By
Jay Mariotti (
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Any notion of transparency is believed only by the naive.
Whatever glowing perceptions we have of a public figure, particularly in sports, too often are exposed by lurking warts and skeletons. Just because
Steve McNair made a remarkable commitment to community service -- in lockstep with a football career defined by his legendary toughness and tolerance for pain -- doesn't mean he led a perfect life.
In truth, he had a 20-year-old girlfriend on the side, a woman who worked as a waitress at a restaurant visited by McNair, his wife and their four sons. McNair and the girl,
Sahel Kazemi, often hung out at his downtown condominium and her apartment. Sometimes, she would arrive home in a limousine, and, not long ago, her personal vehicle of choice curiously shifted from a Kia to a black 2007 Cadillac Escalade.
Only last Thursday, they were stopped by police inside that Escalade -- registered to her and McNair -- and she was arrested for driving under the influence and refusing to take a breath test, telling officers that she was high but not drunk. McNair wasn't charged and took a taxi from the scene, later bailing his girlfriend out of jail. Oh, and TMZ is circulating photos of the couple taken during a parasailing excursion earlier this year, when they were seen laughing and obviously having fun in their wet suits.
Said one of Kazemi's neighbors, Reagan Howard: "It was pretty obvious that she was taken with him."
And him with her.
So when both were found covered in blood inside McNair's condo Saturday, victims of gunshot wounds, it should have reminded us to exercise restraint before assuming we know "our heroes" and liberally tossing around Man of the Year tributes. The shock of McNair's death, which the Nashville police are classifying as a homicide, comes in how it contradicts everything he was supposed to stand for. Happily-married family man? Charity prince of the mid-South? A pillar of a Bible Belt community since he arrived in 1997, helping to stabilize a franchise that had moved from Houston and was on wobbly ground before McNair injected hope?
Suddenly, sadly, that is not how we're going to immediately remember him. Instead, it's one of the most grisly cases yet in that all-too-common drama, "CSI: NFL." The question: Who murdered Steve McNair and a girlfriend who was almost half his age? "While it is clear McNair's death is a homicide, the police department is not classifying Kazemi's death, pending further investigation and interviews with persons who knew her and McNair," Nashville police spokesman Don Aaron said Sunday. "We can't be close-minded. All scenarios are on the table."
Was a lover's quarrel involved? "That's a very important part of the investigation as we work to ultimately classify Miss Kazemi's death," said Aaron, who confirmed that the McNair and Kazemi had been in a "dating relationship for the past several months."
They found a semi-automatic pistol under her body as she was sprawled on a living-room floor, one gunshot wound in the side of her head. McNair was on a couch and was shot four times, twice in the head and twice in the chest. Was this a double homicide? A murder-suicide?
Kazemi's sister said she couldn't have pulled a trigger. "She was a young girl who had so many dreams that they never came true," Sepideh Salmani told the Tennessean newspaper, adding that Kazemi believed that McNair was in the process of divorcing his wife, Mechelle, though there are no records of a divorce filing in Nashville. "She would never kill anyone, ever. Or anything. Not even a little bug. I want people to know that ... "All she was trying to do was have fun. Nothing else. I believe there is a third person involved."
Then we have Kazemi's former boyfriend, Keith Norfleet, stepping forward in the Tennessean with a revealing account of their past and McNair's relationship with her. According to Norfleet, they moved to Nashville from Jacksonville, Fla., and were an item for four years before breaking up five months ago. That was about when she began dating McNair after meeting at D ave & Buster's Grand Sports Cafe.
Norfleet said he warned her about dating a married man. What's most interesting is that Norfleet claims she was planning to break up with McNair and that Kazemi had visited Norfleet's apartment in the wee hours of Saturday morning, leaving before he could get to the door.
"She is the sweetest girl, and she did not deserve this," Norfleet told the newspaper. "He was making her believe they were going to be together and everything would be perfect. She was a very strong, independent girl. A hard worker. She had a huge heart. She was very caring, very loving."
For such a bizarre scenario, no one would have picked McNair as a co-victim. He was revered in the NFL as the tough-guy quarterback and black pioneer who rallied the Titans to within a yard of a Super Bowl championship in 2000. His college nickname at Alcorn State was "Air McNair," but he morphed into a Sunday warrior, absorbing so many hits with his in-the-pocket fearlessness and running prowess that pain became his regular companion. Some weeks, he couldn't practice and spent every day trying to get physically ready for Sunday. He was best known not for his rather moderate statistics but for his leadership and survivalism. That's why people are so stunned he is dead; it seemed he could live forever.
"I always described Steve as indestructible, and for me this is just a surreal kind of moment," said
Frank Wycheck, McNair's former tight end in Tennessee. "I am very sad for Steve's family, and this is a time for reflection and to appreciate who Steve was. It is really just a kick in the gut to everybody. He played the game the way it was supposed to be played -- not for the glory, not for the press, not for the money, but because he was a true competitor and he wanted to prove a lot of people wrong. It was all about the love of the game ... and what he was giving back to the community."
"Steve was an absolute warrior as a player and brought that mind-set to the team," said another ex-teammate, Blaine Bishop.
"Whether he was hurt or not, he was going to give us everything he had. He was the toughest player I ever played with. The thing I'll always remember was whether it was a good or bad day on the field, the whole team -- offense and defense -- believed he would lead us to victory if we could just get the ball in his hands at the end of a game."
"If you were going to draw up a football player -- the physical part, mental part, everything about being a professional, he is your guy," ex-teammate
Samari Rolle said. "I can't even wrap my arms around it."
No one can. Even when we've become immune to scandals and crisies in sports, this one made you stop everything on the Fourth of July -- hot dogs, fireworks, beer -- and wonder how in the hell Steve McNair was wound into such a tragedy. "It's kind of like disbelief, like somebody was playing a cruel April Fools' joke," said Kevin Dyson, a former Titans receiver. "It's just so surreal."
"The way I see it, it was the devil's work and not God's work," Lucille McNair, the late quarterback's mother, told the Tennessean.
But if you looked closely enough, which his beloved fans in Nashville were reluctant to do, you'd have noticed danger signs. In 2003, he was pulled over by police who said he had a blood-alcohol content level of .18 percent, more than twice the state's legal limit.
In the same episode, he faced charges of possessing a 9mm weapon.
Mysteriously, all charges were dropped. There was no public outcry at the time, as there would be for some athletes, because McNair was that revered. He was honored regularly for his direct involvement with the Steve McNair Foundation, his work with Boys and Girls Clubs, his Thanksgiving turkey deliveries to the needy and his tireless efforts after Hurricane Katrina.
"I will remember Steve's smile, his laugh, his ability to cook -- the man could cook -- and just the human being that he was," said
Eddie George, the team's star running back during McNair's tenure. "We had some great times together, and he had a wonderful per sonality. The football thing was one thing and I remember his playing days, but just the human being. He brought so much joy to so many people. He was a consummate pro and he was a gentleman. He was a great father. He raised his boys very well, they are well behaved. His legacy will live on. We say goodbye to Steve in the human form, but his spirit and his memory will last forever. I'm here to celebrate my teammate and my friend and his life and support his family. We will see this through."
"I am deeply saddened and at this point do not have the words to describe this loss," Titans coach
Jeff Fisher said. "It is an extremely emotional moment, and I don't have the words to explain how I am feeling. I ask people to please pray for the entire McNair family.
This is a tragic moment for his family, and it is a tragic moment for anyone who knew and loved Steve."
The story, of course, is only beginning. Long after the football tributes fade, we'll be asking how such a respected, beloved man winds up in a living room with bullets in his head and a dead 20-year-old hookup partner nearby. Isn't this possibly the 2009 version of O.J. Simpson, backwards? Years ago, ESPN ran a controversial series called "Playmakers," portraying the lives of players on a fictional football team. The subject matter was criticized roundly as too sensational -- steroids, cocaine, domes tic abuse, homosexuality -- and the NFL put so much pressure on the network that the show was yanked. But a month rarely passes without NFL life imitating canceled TV, with Donte Stallworth killing a man while driving drunk and getting off with only 24 days in the slammer. That was revolting.
What happened in Nashville was mind-blowing. And a lesson to all of us about the differences between a facade and reality
