Nashville-Davidson County Metropolitan Police confirmed today that Sahel Kazemi, the 20-year-old girlfriend of former Titans and Ravens quarterback Steve McNair, was indeed the shooter of McNair before turning the gun on herself. McNair, 36, died Saturday as the result of the gunshot wounds suffered at the hands of Ms. Kazemi.
Police are asking this question- and so am I: Why did Sahel do it? What was going through her mind? One clue investigators may have stumbled on was that Ms. Kazemi thought her life was spiraling out of control- according to the Associated Press and WSMV-DT, the NBC affiliate in Nashville- she had faced mounting debts, and she thought that McNair was seeing another woman. Well, she was right on the latter, at least. But now, that other woman- McNair's wife Mechelle- is asking herself "How in the fuck could Steve do this to me?" (Okay, she probably didn't use those exact words, but she is asking nonetheless). According to WSMV, Kazemi told a friend that "My life is a ball of shit and I should end it." I looked at her picture, and to be honest, yeah, I'd fucking pork her. Necrophiliac erection aside, I'm wondering if Steve ever wondered what the hell he walked himself into. Did he have any idea that the hottie he met at a Nashville area Dave and Busters was...well, not altogether upstairs? Or maybe she was, she was just stressed out that Stevie was flirting with some other bitch- though this has not been confirmed- and she didn't take it so well. So, what Sahel did- according to police sources- was shoot a sleeping McNair, then shoot herself. She was hoping that she'd fall in his lap (make it look like she was giving him a blow-job, maybe...hmm...), but she ended up falling at his feet (well, I guess that would qualify as close). Why didn't she just wrap herself around McNair- you know, just get on top of him- wrap one arm around him (maybe a hand on his juicy ass), and pull the trigger with the other and make it look like a goddamn "Romeo and Juliet" scenario at least? Make the murder-suicide look romantic.
Now, to you, Stevie boy. You told this poor girl that you were divorcing Mechelle, your wife of about 15 years. But you probably didn't realize that the girl you were sleeping with was a fragile young lamb, one that was barely out of her teens (let alone diapers). Yes, I'll give you credit for wanting to help her and more credit for really being in lust love with her. But the person that should have mattered the most had to fucking find out about your philandering the hard way. And now, Mechelle and those precious boys of yours are really wondering what the hell was going through your thick skull. Mechelle looks like a lovely young woman, and- as I would do Sahel if she were alive- I'd bang her (of course, I'd be breaking the "no dating baby-mama" rule, but hey, I can still hit her and quit her, right?... Anyway...). I'm not going to say that because of your cheating- such act that led to your demise- will turn your legacy into shit, but dude, you've left behind a lot of heartbroken fans- including this blogger, who watched you, alongside one of my favorite players, Eddie George tear up opponents. My heart was broken when you died, but when I found out that your poor wife had no idea of your trysts, it was shattered. I'll mourn your loss, but I'm also saying that you should have known better.
I can't leave without saying a word to Ms. Kazemi. Girl, you were fucking hot! I mean someone I would've dated- of course, you obviously didn't mind the sixteen year difference between you and Steve McNair, so our 22-year difference wouldn't have raised any eyebrows. I don't know what went through your mind the days leading up to your death. I could ask the obvious- why did you shoot one of the greatest NFL quarterbacks of all time? The man- despite that he was a cheating dog (at least to Mechelle, anyway)- seemed like a very good man who cared for your well-being. He gave you a fucking Cadillac Escalade for your birthday, for God's sake, woman! What other man would do that for you- besides, say, Hugh Marston Hefner, maybe...or Donald Trump? (Then again, Melania- the Donald's current wife- would probably cut off his balls if he dared tried a stunt like that. It's so wonder that Mechelle didn't cut off Steve's, for that matter...).
Let me close with the advice my mother gave me: Don't waste a good bullet. No matter how bad that breakup, or that revelation that your significant other, or spouse, etc. has sought other animals in this jungle we call romance (or courtship, marriage, etc), it's not worth shooting the bastard or bitch. There's always divorce court (though I'd stay away from judge Lynn Toler- she can be a real bitch... but only when she needs to be), or if you're not married, just walk away. Or as I like to put it, "Let's just fuck and say goodbye."
(C) 2009 by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.
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