John McClain, a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, is starting his 50th year covering the NFL in Houston.
When the Texans asked if I'd be interested in writing a personal remembrance of Janice McNair, I jumped at the opportunity.
It's an honor to look back at one of the nicest people I've ever known inside or outside of sports. I met Janice and Bob more than 30 years ago when they invited me to their house for a story I was writing for the Chronicle about why they were determined to get an NFL expansion franchise for Houston to replace the Oilers.
When Janice died last week at 89 – eight years after Bob's death from cancer in 2018 – not only did Houston lose the Co-Founder of the Texans and one of its most respected and revered citizens, but the city also lost a philanthropist whose family has contributed to different charities close to $700 million – the price the McNairs paid for their expansion franchise in 1999, an NFL record at the time.
When the Oilers moved to Nashville after the 1996 season, nobody but the McNairs stepped up and tried to replace them. I knew the McNairs had a story to tell, and I was eager to hear it. After spending more than an hour with them, I began to learn a few things about them that proved true over the years.
Bob was the frontman. Janice preferred to be behind the scenes. At one point during the interview in which she didn't want to be quoted, Janice sat on the arm of the sofa and put her arm around his shoulder. Bob looked up at her and said, "She's my rock. I want to know what she thinks because I trust her opinion, and I know she'll tell me the truth – whether I want to hear it or not."
And sometimes he didn't like it, but he still wanted to hear it.
"Mom was on the softer side of humanity," their son, Cal, the team's principal owner, chair and CEO, said this week. "Dad was very respectful of Mom. She was quiet but strong. When she spoke, he listened. He might have an idea, and if she disagreed, she'd say, 'Now, Robert,' and he usually did what she said.
"Dad had a good sense of humor. He could be a jokester. He liked to tease Mom, and she'd just giggle. There were times when they just loved to clown around."
When I listened to Janice talk, she had an accent as sweet as Tupelo honey. She was a Southern Belle from Orangeburg, S.C. and Columbia College who loved sports and the loving partnership she would develop with Bob as they made their way to Houston in 1960.
Janice was a gentle soul – kind, dignified, caring, graceful and softspoken. She had a way of getting a point across in a manner that could be firm but never loud.
Tony Wyllie, the Texans' first vice president of communications, said last week he never heard Janice raise her voice one time. Other members of the organization told me the same thing.
But she had no trouble getting her point across or making a tough decision. When pressed about her being so nice and polite, she'd say, "I don't want people to misconstrue my kindness for weakness." And those who got to know her never did.
Janice was incredibly humble. As the tributes poured in last week from Houston and around the NFL, I knew she'd be embarrassed about all the attention and the nice things people said about her. But they were true.
During the 2024 season, the Houston Sports Hall of Fame voted to give Janice a Lifetime Achievement Award. She and Bob would become the first couple to be honored with the award. We wanted to surprise Janice in her Founder's Suite before a game. Cal and Hannah McNair set it up.
John Lopez and I represented our committee with members from the Harris County-Houston Sports Authority. Janice was caught off-guard, of course. When John and I told her about the award, in typical fashion, she put a hand on her chest and said in the most honest, humble and southern fashion, "My goodness, I don't deserve this."
But she did. And that was one of the many things that made her so special. She had the same reaction when Cal and Hannah surprised her with the Ring of Honor award last season when she joined Bob, Andre Johnson and J.J. Watt with her name in the rafters of Reliant Stadium. She didn't think she belonged there, either, but, of course, she did.
When talking about his mother this week, Cal said something that surprised me.
"Mom was very competitive," he said.
As Janice Suber growing up in South Carolina, where she excelled in basketball and other sports at Orangeburg High School, she was the first woman to win the Bill Davis Memorial Award. She was presented the award at an all-male banquet for her "outstanding achievement, scholastic attainment and sportsmanship."
Members of her senior class voted her as the "prettiest girl, most popular, best personality, most likely to succeed, most courteous, best all-around" and "best sport."
Somehow, she didn't win best twirler and horse racer because she was a majorette who won horse races. She also was president and vice president of so many clubs in high school it was difficult to keep count.
"And she played flag football in college," Cal said. "She wanted to play quarterback, but they moved her to linebacker."
And then she met Robert C. McNair, who liked linebackers, horse racers and majorettes and was taken with a young woman voted prettiest in her class. And she could have beaten him in a game of "horse" on the basketball court.
The McNairs fell in love, got married and borrowed $2,000 for a truck they drove to Houston, where they built a family and a fortune and became two of the most prominent Houstonians in the city's history.
When I needed to interview Bob about a story, I preferred to talk to him at his home rather than his office at Reliant Stadium or on the telephone because he wasn't distracted. He liked to do the interviews in his library.
If Janice was home, she'd take time to stop by and chat. She may have been the most thoughtful and considerate person I've ever known. She'd check to see how my wife, Carol, was doing. Janice always asked about our pets, the Chronicle and how my job was going.
Sometimes I'd have to tell her my job would be going better if her team was winning. Even in the Texans' toughest times, though, she and Bob were always positive. They firmly believed better times were ahead. They had no time for negativity.
Like Bob always said – and Janice agreed – "I'm a homer for Houston." They wanted what was best for their hometown. Their passion and benevolence for Houston were genuine. They didn't just talk the talk. They gave and gave and gave to needy causes.
And they never stopped giving. Cal and Hannah have continued what Janice and Bob started when it comes to charities and providing resources to so many different organizations, especially in education and medicine.
Even when she suffered a stroke and had to use a wheelchair, Janice's mind was sharp as a tack. Her caregiver, Karen Richards, was a godsend for Janice and her family. Karen became her close friend, and they were almost inseparable right up until the end.
The last time I saw Janice was at the Texans' minicamp. Richards pushed her wheelchair on the sideline. I called out, and they stopped. I was able to say hello to Janice and wish her luck this season. It never dawned on me it would be the last time I'd see her.
Janice loved her Texans. She was so excited to attend training camp and games. Richards would position her wheelchair where Janice could always see the field. She had a notebook and a roster and liked to take notes on the players and coaches.
Janice wanted to know what was going on with the Texans. At the end of most days, when Cal would leave the stadium to drive home, he'd call his mother and provide her with an update on her team.
Janice was eager for camp to start. She had high hopes for the Texans in coach DeMeco Ryans' fourth season.
Right up until the end, Janice McNair never lost her spirit for her family, her friends, her franchise, the city of Houston and her beloved South Carolina. Her death leaves a hole in the organization, but that kindhearted McNair spirit will live on through the Texans and the organizations they generously supported through the decades.
