There is good on this planet and there is diabolical evil. When does life choose the meeting point? Good wins in spells but unfortunately there are moments where evil goes hard enough to snuff out the greatness of man in a fleeting yet horrific slice in time. In the space thereafter we are then left with a choice. A choice which is the origin of shaping and shifting a futuristic perspective. Because of the presence of evil, do we take the soul of a man and squash it into an assumed hellish abyss or do we properly advance history…documenting the total scope of his walk in full appreciation of his life?
This is for Steve McNair’s family. This is for his sons. This is for his life. This is for his legacy.
Call me an apologist. Call me idealistic. Call me whatever but respect me. Respect me for the job I was put on this earth to do. I see journalism differently. I cast no stones because the rock might blind the mirror before me. I want better. I do not want death. I do not want hurtful comedy. I do not want a wife’s cop call gasp. I do not want a child alone.
It is not me. It is not right. The hit piece is not my way of advancing the frame. Bad news is not good news and I hope every single editor is listening when I say stop that BS and find another way to make it.
Karma is a bitch.
It is not just a moment of cynical dance. When did the cynical concert win? Are we in a jet stream of all encompassing evil where good has to fight every single second of human existence just to stop a child’s future tear drop?
We are living in a time of total chaos. We are a selfish society. Some couldn’t care less about the livelihood of man as long as they aren’t personally affected. Some are objectified while others humanized depending on the emotional scale shaped by our experience. We hate. We love. We care. Graves we spit. We contradict. We bury dreams not ours. We see some as mascots living inside of our channel zero minds. We don’t think things through. We see what’s in front of our faces, cast it aside and move on to the next salacious and very guilty self hating pleasure at the expense of those who do not chase hate.
Everything I choose to write is not for now, but for a time long after all of us are gone. Because I am a Father, every word of my spirit is written for the souls of my great grandchildren.
They will be proud not out of arrogance but because I will make it so.
I care about life and choose to celebrate it. To write is to assume the responsibility of advancing an art continuum. How absurd is it to write for the ultimate decay of society where life falls incessantly without proper respect given?
I hope you don’t live your own lives emotionally detached because that would suck.
Sports is not just athletics or entertainment. Sports is a wormhole to appreciate hard work dedicated in the past, present and future. Hard work of an athletic dream that trades past generational insecurity for the diamond happiness living in a now Mother’s smile as your quarterback son runs 5 miles.
I want to see the incredible happen. I want to see the bomb down 6 with 00:01 on the clock and smell the turf as the receiver breaks…shakes…skates. I want to see Kevin Dyson score. I live and die in an 87-yard drive that stalls inside of the five.
Because my kids sat next to me with their 6 collective Christmas eyes wide.
Jason Whitlock wrote a column criticizing appreciation of Steve McNair’s life mere days after his shocking death. His column, in my opinion, is demoralizing, distasteful and soulless. When Steve McNair’s sons read such garbage, I hope they understand there are writers who will look past the current state of journalistic immorality and find the words kind to properly define time.
I put my career on the line to fight for what I think is right. I will not let Steve McNair’s family have his legacy diminished in the next influential minutes, days and years like so many have had theirs belittled in the past. There is more to the man than bad decisions which cost him a precious opportunity to see his sons become men.
Friends and colleagues of Jason Whitlock might not understand how a column of Jason’s affects not only the current state of objectifying strangers with malicious public wrath, but that of future talent not yet conceived.
Everything we do energizes the next moment. Don’t you care? Is it really just about you?
Where is the journalist scrutiny in the same mind that’s written of the athlete?
Are we that insecure as writers to not get called out for the words oh so scathing?
What is that? Please explain.
None of us are perfect, but a period of weakness and wrongdoing isn’t the end all be all just because others say so. On one hand we celebrate serial adulterers of whatever ilk for the sake of personal mental security, only to highlight the transgressions of others with a force so strongly demonic it snakes its way into the first paragraph of their obituary.
The grave spit.
A family is left behind and there is nothing we can do to bring Air back. I choose to remember him on the field in a Hall of Fame kinda way whether he’s enshrined or not.
Born on Valentine’s Day in 1973, the gift Air gave in return was his love for in game survival. While he mainly was a reticent personality, the fire that burned inside of him willed the Titans organization to another level and into more than just Music City Miracle lore. Eddie George, McNair, Keith Bullock, Jevon Kearse and Frank Wycheck, to name a few, are all of the same fiber and the hard work and leadership they demonstrated is why Tennessee loves its Titans. That’s very hard to do with a new franchise and because of that and if I had a vote, he gets in the HOF because of next level on and off field criteria transcendent of race.
Steve McNair deserves our protection. If we leave it to the public domain outside of TN, his legacy will fall to hell in a hand basket like the insecure tears some cry daily inside of their own lives.
Man up and survive in more than is you. Your life isn’t exclusive. There is no entitlement. Understand and your soul will be celebrated when you too in fact…die.
If we so celebrate Babe Ruth, Elvis Presley and President Kennedy then we also should celebrate Michael Jackson, Sam Cooke and Steve McNair for the same fallacies of man. They are human just like the rest of us despite their demise. This society is propped up by bringing down others, but how can we do so in either extreme if we never met these people? It’s not rational.
Bonds, Pitt, Jolie, Vick.
Figure it out.
There are those of us who make the same mistakes in our own lives. Make the distinction and let’s all get past this Roman Coliseum mob thought that will deteriorate the lives of our future.
Because I did not know him personally, this is how I choose to remember Steve McNair. I never interviewed him or spoke to him, so again, I do not know him. My history of him is on the football field, so I wanted to take it back to a time where his legacy was in its infancy.
This is not about death, but the origin of an athletic legacy forever locked in determination, strength and Hall of Fame talent.
I can’t judge him on his family life. There are too many questions. I can only go on what I know. What I know is that he was Titan on the field.