July 4th... (A double post day...)

POST 1: STEVE MCNAIR

At approximately 4:32 p.m. ET today...I found out Steve McNair had been killed. A tightness in my chest exists that is somewhat unfamiliar in terms of sadness. The reason it is unfamiliar is because I did not know the man. I never shared a laugh with him, never had a conversation with him, and never shook his hand. Honestly, I had not ever been in the same vicinity as Steve "Air" McNair. Believe it or not though, Steve McNair had a little bit of an impact on my development as a young black male...

The year was 1994, and I was a young little league quarterback with dreams of playing college football. Steve McNair was in his senior season at Alcorn State. Week in and week out, I found myself with my hands under the center, reading the defense, pretending to be Steve McNair on every single play. I did not look up to the professional quarterbacks of the day. I was completely enamored by the athletic play and sheer ability of this black man 10 years my senior.

On my teams bye week, my parents took me to see Miles College football games. My parents being alumnae of Miles, I naturally was predisposed to have an affinity for the school. Visions of wearing a purple jersey with a gold helmet as a 20 year old danced in my head. I dreamed of taking Miles College to a notoriety unheard of by the alumni or the student body. Dreams, although ultimately deferred for a number of reasons, were sparked by one man. Steve "Air" McNair.

Steve McNair stood on the shoulders of giants...Doug Williams from Grambling and Warren Moon. He was a black man unhampered by the norms of professional footballs traditional offensive schemes and quarterback archetypes. He was the link from Randall Cunningham to (*sigh*) Michael Vick. A quarterback that could run AND throw, one who relished contact, and could read/pick apart a defense as good as any quarterback to touch a football...

While knee injuries and size disparities kept me from fulfilling my dream of playing football, the knee problems more than anything, I still maintained an affinity for Steve McNair and tentativley followed his career. I pray that his legacy, toughness, ability, and determination to be a strong black quarterback is passed on to some 10 or 11 year old boy with a pair shoulder pads and cleats...that straps up his chinstrap every day of the football and dreams of taking Grambling, Howard, Tennessee State, Morehouse, Clark-Atlanta, Tuskegee, Miles, Albany State, or any other HBCU to a place of national athletic recognition. More importantly...I pray that that same child...dares to dream...

God Bless The McNair Family