boutons
07-31-2005, 12:05 AM
The New York Times
July 31, 2005
ESPN's New Master of the Offensive Foul
By RICHARD SANDOMIR
IF you're a sports fan - more specifically, a basketball fan - you may already find it hard to avoid Stephen A. Smith. He is the emerging face of hoops talk at ESPN, a fierce, confident, at times bombastic presence whose brash, clamorous style not only punctuates his reporting and analysis but sometimes eclipses them.
In less than two years at the sports media empire, the lean, goateed Mr. Smith has become one of its best-known personalities, and arguably its most renowned African-American. He may not be as well known as ESPN lifers like Chris Berman, Dick Vitale or Dan Patrick, but he makes more noise, issuing emotional, emphatic riffs about coaches, players and owners. So much noise, in fact, that he has earned the nickname Screamin' A. Smith.
"I have opinions that are based on the facts that are presented to me," he said over pancakes and eggs that he barely ate in a Midtown hotel, as his cellphone occasionally rang. "I don't apologize. I stand by it. If I'm hated, so what? If I'm loved, so what?"
That cheeky attitude has already earned Mr. Smith regular spots on "SportsCenter," an analyst's seat on three N.B.A. programs, appearances on ESPN2's "Cold Pizza" and a daily ESPN Radio program. And now, Mr. Smith's posture has prompted ESPN to make him the star of a nightly one-hour talk show on ESPN2, "Quite Frankly" (named for one of his often-repeated phrases), which makes its debut tonight at 6:30.
In Mr. Smith, who is 37 and continues to write a twice-weekly column (sometimes on his BlackBerry from an ESPN studio) for The Philadelphia Inquirer, ESPN believes it has a franchise. "Stephen A. is ringing a bell," said Mark Shapiro, an executive vice president of ESPN. "People like him and dislike him, but they still watch him. These days, it's hard to find a talent who strikes a chord that way. Polarization is a commodity." He added: "We're in the hit-making business. And Stephen A. is a game-changer."
Mr. Smith's polarizing personality was nurtured by his parents and four older sisters in the same house in Hollis, Queens, where he still stops by for dinner two or three times a week. He calls himself a "mama's boy," but says his West Indian mother constantly stressed that he be right, even righteous.
Mr. Smith tested that advice at Winston-Salem State University in North Carolina, where he played a bit for the great basketball coach Clarence (Big House) Gaines - and then boldly suggested in an article in the school newspaper that Mr. Gaines retire because of health problems. By 1993, Mr. Smith was writing about sports for The Daily News. Six years later, when he started his television career at the now-defunct cable network CNN/SI, he seemed to intuitively grasp what all panelists on sports and political shows know: that the loudest, the most argumentative, even the rudest voice will get the most attention.
Like most studio analysts, Mr. Smith delivers his opinions with an air of absolute certainty. If he is ever wrong, he said, it's because sources have lied to him. "Unless you're a fly on the wall, you're only as good as your sources," he said.
He is also prone to effusively proclaiming his approval of the players he favors. Discussing the Minnesota Timberwolves star Kevin Garnett on the air recently, he said, "Here's what it comes down to: Nobody loves the boy more than I do. I love K. G.!"
All of this has made Mr. Smith the commentator some fellow sportswriters - as well as TV critics and coaches - love to hate. A writer for The Allentown Morning Call argued that Mr. Smith's report about the prospective departure of Larry Brown as coach of the Detroit Pistons deserved "a grade of C because he said nothing while acting like he knew everything." Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers, has called him an entertainer, not a journalist. And two New York Post columnists, Peter Vecsey, a former NBC and TNT basketball analyst, and Phil Mushnick, have assailed him several times. Mr. Vecsey, who regularly flays Mr. Smith's stories, called him a "multi-media fraud."
Some of the complaints about Mr. Smith have to do with race. Mr. Mushnick said in a phone interview that Mr. Smith "speaks in two voices" to appeal to ESPN's different but overlapping audiences: one that is straightforward and another than appeals specifically to "urban street blacks or white street wannabes."
Mr. Smith does not deny that race figures prominently in his persona, or that growing up among rappers subtly influenced his idiosyncratic vocal cadences. But unlike Stuart Scott, another well-known black ESPN announcer, Mr. Smith rarely uses hip-hop terminology.
"I realize there is a paucity of African-Americans in my position," Mr. Smith said. "Everywhere I go, people say, 'Don't mess this up, don't forget about us.' You feel a tremendous responsibility, not to take the black side of things, but to make sure that side gets heard, because if I don't do it, who's going to do it?"
Mr. Smith isn't afraid to talk about race in heated terms on the air. In an intense debate last April over comments by Jermaine O'Neal - a black star with the Pacers who came into the league from high school - that race might be behind the N.B.A.'s since-enacted plan to raise its age requirement, Mr. Smith interrupted and snapped at Greg Anthony, another basketball analyst.
Mr. Anthony argued against the age limit and defended Mr. O'Neal's right to speak out, but Mr. Smith said the player should not have raised race, invoking the legendary football player Jim Brown's feelings on the matter. "I don't care what Jim Brown says," Mr. Anthony said.
"Wait a minute, you need to care about the pioneers who paved the way for people like you and me to be in the position that we're in!" Mr. Smith said, his voice rising, his hands gesticulating vigorously. "You damn well better care about those who paved the way for you to be in the position to benefit the way we've benefited!"
In an interview, Mr. Anthony said he enjoyed the confrontation. "I'm happy he does it, because I'm a contrarian and I like to argue," he said.
For his part, Mr. Smith said his only regret was what he called an unintentional depiction of two black men who respect each other apparently close to trading punches. "If you were in the black community, you almost cringed watching it," he said.
Indeed, Mr. Smith knows that he has detractors of many colors, who would like to see him to fall from his increasingly lucrative and celebrated perch. "You have haters from all walks of life," he said. "I could care less who wants me to fail. They inspire me." To watch Mr. Smith on a program like "NBA Shootaround," which precedes ESPN's basketball games, is to grasp his appeal to the network. His loud voice and sharply drawn opinions rouse the lively panel, which consists of an urbane host, John Saunders, and the less noisy analysts Tim Legler and Mr. Anthony, both former players. Mr. Smith's silent reactions are animated; even when he's not speaking, ESPN keeps a camera on him.
Indeed, perhaps the most riveting part of almost any studio session with Mr. Smith is watching him not speak. He clearly suffers from the pain of anticipation. He sits in his custom-made suit, trying not to fidget as Mr. Saunders hands the verbal ball to Mr. Legler or Mr. Anthony. Mr. Smith stares through each speaker, a ticked-off, silent, impatient predator seeking his moment. Rage - or is it fervent hope? - seems to paint his stern face. When his time comes, his expression alters. He is relieved but energized, spitting out his words at high decibels.
"I'm struggling," Mr. Smith agreed. "I'm struggling with the reality that I feel differently, that I have a minimal amount of time to express what I want to say. Somebody is saying something I don't agree with and I have 45 seconds. I'm like, 'Damn it, can I fit it all in?' "
But will the same approach work once Mr. Smith is the star of his own show, and not simply punctuating others? As he prepared for the launch of "Quite Frankly," Mr. Shapiro was coaxing Mr. Smith to show his lighter side.
"It won't work if he goes for 60 minutes the way he goes for four minutes on 'SportsCenter,' " Mr. Shapiro said. "He has to switch gears, which he hasn't learned to do."
* Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company
July 31, 2005
ESPN's New Master of the Offensive Foul
By RICHARD SANDOMIR
IF you're a sports fan - more specifically, a basketball fan - you may already find it hard to avoid Stephen A. Smith. He is the emerging face of hoops talk at ESPN, a fierce, confident, at times bombastic presence whose brash, clamorous style not only punctuates his reporting and analysis but sometimes eclipses them.
In less than two years at the sports media empire, the lean, goateed Mr. Smith has become one of its best-known personalities, and arguably its most renowned African-American. He may not be as well known as ESPN lifers like Chris Berman, Dick Vitale or Dan Patrick, but he makes more noise, issuing emotional, emphatic riffs about coaches, players and owners. So much noise, in fact, that he has earned the nickname Screamin' A. Smith.
"I have opinions that are based on the facts that are presented to me," he said over pancakes and eggs that he barely ate in a Midtown hotel, as his cellphone occasionally rang. "I don't apologize. I stand by it. If I'm hated, so what? If I'm loved, so what?"
That cheeky attitude has already earned Mr. Smith regular spots on "SportsCenter," an analyst's seat on three N.B.A. programs, appearances on ESPN2's "Cold Pizza" and a daily ESPN Radio program. And now, Mr. Smith's posture has prompted ESPN to make him the star of a nightly one-hour talk show on ESPN2, "Quite Frankly" (named for one of his often-repeated phrases), which makes its debut tonight at 6:30.
In Mr. Smith, who is 37 and continues to write a twice-weekly column (sometimes on his BlackBerry from an ESPN studio) for The Philadelphia Inquirer, ESPN believes it has a franchise. "Stephen A. is ringing a bell," said Mark Shapiro, an executive vice president of ESPN. "People like him and dislike him, but they still watch him. These days, it's hard to find a talent who strikes a chord that way. Polarization is a commodity." He added: "We're in the hit-making business. And Stephen A. is a game-changer."
Mr. Smith's polarizing personality was nurtured by his parents and four older sisters in the same house in Hollis, Queens, where he still stops by for dinner two or three times a week. He calls himself a "mama's boy," but says his West Indian mother constantly stressed that he be right, even righteous.
Mr. Smith tested that advice at Winston-Salem State University in North Carolina, where he played a bit for the great basketball coach Clarence (Big House) Gaines - and then boldly suggested in an article in the school newspaper that Mr. Gaines retire because of health problems. By 1993, Mr. Smith was writing about sports for The Daily News. Six years later, when he started his television career at the now-defunct cable network CNN/SI, he seemed to intuitively grasp what all panelists on sports and political shows know: that the loudest, the most argumentative, even the rudest voice will get the most attention.
Like most studio analysts, Mr. Smith delivers his opinions with an air of absolute certainty. If he is ever wrong, he said, it's because sources have lied to him. "Unless you're a fly on the wall, you're only as good as your sources," he said.
He is also prone to effusively proclaiming his approval of the players he favors. Discussing the Minnesota Timberwolves star Kevin Garnett on the air recently, he said, "Here's what it comes down to: Nobody loves the boy more than I do. I love K. G.!"
All of this has made Mr. Smith the commentator some fellow sportswriters - as well as TV critics and coaches - love to hate. A writer for The Allentown Morning Call argued that Mr. Smith's report about the prospective departure of Larry Brown as coach of the Detroit Pistons deserved "a grade of C because he said nothing while acting like he knew everything." Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers, has called him an entertainer, not a journalist. And two New York Post columnists, Peter Vecsey, a former NBC and TNT basketball analyst, and Phil Mushnick, have assailed him several times. Mr. Vecsey, who regularly flays Mr. Smith's stories, called him a "multi-media fraud."
Some of the complaints about Mr. Smith have to do with race. Mr. Mushnick said in a phone interview that Mr. Smith "speaks in two voices" to appeal to ESPN's different but overlapping audiences: one that is straightforward and another than appeals specifically to "urban street blacks or white street wannabes."
Mr. Smith does not deny that race figures prominently in his persona, or that growing up among rappers subtly influenced his idiosyncratic vocal cadences. But unlike Stuart Scott, another well-known black ESPN announcer, Mr. Smith rarely uses hip-hop terminology.
"I realize there is a paucity of African-Americans in my position," Mr. Smith said. "Everywhere I go, people say, 'Don't mess this up, don't forget about us.' You feel a tremendous responsibility, not to take the black side of things, but to make sure that side gets heard, because if I don't do it, who's going to do it?"
Mr. Smith isn't afraid to talk about race in heated terms on the air. In an intense debate last April over comments by Jermaine O'Neal - a black star with the Pacers who came into the league from high school - that race might be behind the N.B.A.'s since-enacted plan to raise its age requirement, Mr. Smith interrupted and snapped at Greg Anthony, another basketball analyst.
Mr. Anthony argued against the age limit and defended Mr. O'Neal's right to speak out, but Mr. Smith said the player should not have raised race, invoking the legendary football player Jim Brown's feelings on the matter. "I don't care what Jim Brown says," Mr. Anthony said.
"Wait a minute, you need to care about the pioneers who paved the way for people like you and me to be in the position that we're in!" Mr. Smith said, his voice rising, his hands gesticulating vigorously. "You damn well better care about those who paved the way for you to be in the position to benefit the way we've benefited!"
In an interview, Mr. Anthony said he enjoyed the confrontation. "I'm happy he does it, because I'm a contrarian and I like to argue," he said.
For his part, Mr. Smith said his only regret was what he called an unintentional depiction of two black men who respect each other apparently close to trading punches. "If you were in the black community, you almost cringed watching it," he said.
Indeed, Mr. Smith knows that he has detractors of many colors, who would like to see him to fall from his increasingly lucrative and celebrated perch. "You have haters from all walks of life," he said. "I could care less who wants me to fail. They inspire me." To watch Mr. Smith on a program like "NBA Shootaround," which precedes ESPN's basketball games, is to grasp his appeal to the network. His loud voice and sharply drawn opinions rouse the lively panel, which consists of an urbane host, John Saunders, and the less noisy analysts Tim Legler and Mr. Anthony, both former players. Mr. Smith's silent reactions are animated; even when he's not speaking, ESPN keeps a camera on him.
Indeed, perhaps the most riveting part of almost any studio session with Mr. Smith is watching him not speak. He clearly suffers from the pain of anticipation. He sits in his custom-made suit, trying not to fidget as Mr. Saunders hands the verbal ball to Mr. Legler or Mr. Anthony. Mr. Smith stares through each speaker, a ticked-off, silent, impatient predator seeking his moment. Rage - or is it fervent hope? - seems to paint his stern face. When his time comes, his expression alters. He is relieved but energized, spitting out his words at high decibels.
"I'm struggling," Mr. Smith agreed. "I'm struggling with the reality that I feel differently, that I have a minimal amount of time to express what I want to say. Somebody is saying something I don't agree with and I have 45 seconds. I'm like, 'Damn it, can I fit it all in?' "
But will the same approach work once Mr. Smith is the star of his own show, and not simply punctuating others? As he prepared for the launch of "Quite Frankly," Mr. Shapiro was coaxing Mr. Smith to show his lighter side.
"It won't work if he goes for 60 minutes the way he goes for four minutes on 'SportsCenter,' " Mr. Shapiro said. "He has to switch gears, which he hasn't learned to do."
* Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company