The tragic loss of Steve McNair has had me stuck for days, thinking about its untimeliness. At such a young age, McNair was poised to become a quarterbacks coach, or at the very least, a familiar face on the sidelines of Tennessee Titan games.
There may not have been a more humble quarterback to play the game in his time, coming from Division I-AA Alcorn State to the Oilers first pick in 1995. He made the transition from scrambler to pocket passer, as defenses beat the scramble out of his legs. The guy sustained and played through more injuries than any player I've ever seen. He was the Rocky Balboa of the NFL, you might knock him out for a season, but he'll get right back up and hit you with the right hook in the jaw next season.
He engineered the Music City Musical and then in typical McNair lore fashion, lost the Super Bowl on the very last play, as his receiver could not stretch his arms any farther, falling one yard short of a title.
McNair may never have been a Hall of Fame NFL player, but his never-give-up attitude and love for the game will always reserve a special place in the minds and hearts of the fans and players who were fortunate enough to see him play.
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