Most NFL players only spend a few years in the consciousness of sports fans. The transition from week-in, week-out star to afterthought is surprisingly quick. One minute they’re a staple on your fantasy team, the next they’re waxing nostalgic about “remember who this guy is?”
Few players from any era transcend their playing days, some because of stardom, others because of tragedy. Steve McNair played 13 years in the NFL, some very good, one great. But he is remembered now for the final moments of his life, a tragic end that cast a shadow over his entire career.
McNair is the subject of a new entry in Netflix’s “Untold” sports documentary series, titled “The Murder of Air McNair.” Directed by Rodney Lucas and Taylor Alexander Ward, it’s an expansive look at the life of one of the NFL’s stars of the early 2000s … beginning and ending with his shocking death. Positioned somewhere between a true crime story and an NFL retrospective, it’s a clear-eyed look at a life ended far too soon.
The documentary opens with audio of a 911 call on July 4, 2009, in which one of McNair’s closest friends discovered the bodies of a man and a woman, dead from gunshot wounds in a Nashville apartment. There was initial confusion following the call — Who are these people? How did they die? Why were so many top law enforcement officials rushing to the scene? — but the tragic truth quickly became clear.
McNair and his girlfriend, Jenni Kazemi, died of gunshot wounds — McNair of four to the body and head, Kazemi of a self-inflicted one to the temple. It’s a sadly simple story — a love affair gone sour, a gun bought on the street, a violent end — and so the documentary must fill its allotted running time with stories that stray far from McNair himself.
“Air McNair” is as much a story about the turn-of-the-century Titans as it is about Air McNair. Those Titans are worthy of their own documentary, from their final days in Texas as the Oilers, to their brief stint in Memphis, to their attempt to make the state of Tennessee fall in love with them.
The Titans’ 1999 season was a remarkable one: their first in their home stadium, an undefeated 8-0 home record, a playoff run that included both the Music City Miracle and the famous “One Yard Short” play to end Super Bowl 34. Under the guidance of head coach Jeff Fisher, who appears frequently in the documentary, McNair created a magical season for the Titans, earning the co-MVP award along with Peyton Manning.
It’s a little odd that we don’t hear much from McNair himself, considering how often he’s been in front of the cameras during his career. He’s a cipher, lurking around the edges of his own story. His most extensive on-camera appearance was his 2008 retirement press conference as a Baltimore Raven, when he stepped away from the game with obvious regret but also diminished skill.
At this point, the documentary returns to McNair’s life between retirement and death. Although McNair was married and had children, he also apparently led an active extracurricular life. (“Steve had an itch he was trying to scratch,” says his college teammate, Robert Gaddy.) He was intimately involved with Kazemi, a former waitress at Dave & Buster’s, but he wasn’t alone in his involvement with her, which — according to text messages — may have led to what happened next.
Several characters pop in and out of the documentary. Kazemi’s ex-boyfriend in particular draws some sympathy — he was a longtime Titans fan who idolized McNair, but his girlfriend left him for … Steve McNair. Like several others, he was labeled a “Person of Interest” but was quickly exonerated.
There’s a belated attempt to muddy the waters of the official murder-suicide story; a private investigator points out some what-if holes in the story and criticizes the police work. But it comes off as Monday-morning quarterbacking, casting doubt on the fact that not all the pieces are in perfect order.
Several figures in the documentary note that McNair, who was only 36 when he was killed, is more than just his final moments, that he deserves to be remembered for more than his gruesome death. But the documentary is called “The Murder of Air McNair,” presumably because “The Life of Steve McNair” wouldn’t have garnered nearly as much interest.
That’s a shame, because McNair’s self-made life — from small-town Mississippi quarterback to Super Bowl star — deserves respect. “With the exception of the ending,” Fisher says, “it couldn’t have ended better.”
