On the latest episode of BT Unleashed, Stephen A. Smith caught up with longtime friend Brandon Tierney. The two went deep. What followed was one of the more candid conversations Smith has ever had on record. He covered his health, his career, his politics, and the real mechanics behind First Take. He also touched on public feuds, media instincts, and his complicated relationship with legacy.

The Moment He Knew He’d Made It

For Smith, the defining milestone had nothing to do with television. It wasn’t a viral clip or a big contract. Instead, it was a newspaper byline that changed everything.

Being named the 21st African-American general sports columnist at the Philadelphia Inquirer was his true turning point. “Once it was confirmed that I was licensed to do that, you couldn’t stop me in radio or television,” Smith told Tierney.

That credential mattered enormously. Before the digital era, opinion-making in sports media was tightly controlled. Only columnists could editorialize freely. Smith recognized immediately what that title unlocked. Earning it meant no one could silence him again, regardless of the platform.

This Generation’s Howard Cosell

Tierney introduced Smith early in the conversation with a striking comparison. He called him this generation’s Howard Cosell. It wasn’t flattery for flattery’s sake. Tierney argued that Smith’s digital reach may have actually surpassed what Cosell achieved in his era.

Cosell dominated sports media when there were three television networks and a handful of major radio outlets. Smith operates in a completely fragmented landscape. Yet he still manages to cut through all of it.

Smith revealed that he averages over two and a half billion views annually across First Take, SiriusXM, and YouTube. Furthermore, he achieves it without the monopoly on attention that Cosell enjoyed. Instead, Smith earns it daily against thousands of competing voices.

The comparison highlighted how Cosell and Smith had an ability to be polarizing and offer candid opinions. Both were impossible to ignore. Each understood that sports media was never really just about sports.

How First Take Really Runs

Smith was remarkably candid about the inner workings of First Take. Specifically, he addressed a persistent and damaging misconception — that he controls all personnel decisions on the show.

He acknowledged pushing out former co-host Max Kellerman. That decision he claims was his as he felt the two lacked authentic friction. A debate show lives or dies on genuine disagreement. However, most other departures were not his calls.

“There are certain things above your head,” Smith said bluntly. His bosses — Dave Roberts, Burke Magnus, and Jimmy Pitaro — hold final authority. Smith answers to that chain without exception.

Molly Qerim’s departure hit differently for Smith. He was emphatic that her exit was not his decision, and he made clear that his feelings for her extend well beyond the professional. “We worked together for 10 years,” he said. “Nobody’s going to ever come and say something negative to me about Molly Qerim.”

Nevertheless, content is squarely his domain. As executive producer, Smith shapes every discussion on a two-hour program. The show covers roughly 15 subjects daily and approximately 75 topics every single week.

“It’s an effort for me to avoid topics,” he explained. “Doing it comes very naturally to me. Not doing it — that’s where the effort comes in.” He also pushed back on critics who claim he over-covers certain athletes. When you’re generating 75 subjects a week, he argued, the math simply doesn’t support that narrative.

The Skip Bayless Blueprint

One of the most instructive media conversations in the interview centered on chemistry. Specifically, Smith explained why his partnership with Skip Bayless worked when so many others haven’t.

The answer was simple and unambiguous. He and Skip were genuinely, authentically opposed on almost everything. They didn’t need morning meetings to find disagreement. It was already there. “We are diametrically opposed on most things,” Smith said. “It was hard with Max. That’s all.”

Smith was careful not to diminish Kellerman personally. He called him brilliant and talented. The issue was never ability. It was fit. Finding the right debate partner, Smith suggested, matters as much as finding the right host. Without that authentic opposition, even the most talented personalities can’t consistently deliver what the format demands.

Editorial Instinct as a Competitive Advantage

Smith made a point during the conversation that deserves particular attention from anyone working in media. His newspaper background didn’t just teach him facts. It rewired how he thinks every single morning.

As a beat writer and then a columnist, Smith woke up daily with one urgent question: ‘what story will resonate today?’ That habit never left him. Consequently, what feels like work to most media personalities feels entirely natural to him.

“What folks are trying to manufacture and create to swell interest is what I’ve been doing for 30 years,” he said directly. Every competitor chasing viral moments is doing deliberately what Smith does instinctively. That gap, he argued, is almost impossible to close.

He extended that thinking to his public feuds as well. When someone comes at him, he doesn’t scramble. He doesn’t strategize. He simply responds the way a columnist always has — by identifying the story and telling it. “Oh, thank you,” he said of critics. “You actually gave me something. I have to look for it. You just handed it to me.”

Handling Public Mistakes

Fame at Smith’s level means every error becomes a headline. He addressed that reality with more nuance than most would expect.

First, he drew a clear and important distinction. What bothers him about mistakes is making them — not that someone noticed.

Beyond that, he pushed back firmly on petty criticism. “If I said we met in 2008 and it was actually 2004, damn it, I forgot in a moment,” he said. Making a minor factual slip during four hours of daily live programming is not the same as being uninformed. Conflating the two, he argued, reveals more about the critic than the mistake.

Nevertheless, Smith holds himself to a clear standard when errors are legitimate. He corrects them quickly, says so plainly, and moves forward without deflection. “I messed up. My bad. Period,” he said. No spin. No lengthy explanation. Just accountability and forward motion.

The Jason Whitlock Feud

Smith candidly addressed his very public and ongoing feud with media personality Jason Whitlock. His explanation reframed what many assumed was simply personal animosity.

He argued that he uses his platform deliberately to defend colleagues who lack the reach to defend themselves. Whitlock, in his view, has caused real damage to people in the industry who couldn’t fight back effectively. Smith decided he could. So he did.

“I do it on behalf of the people he’s attacked,” Smith said plainly.

The intensity of Smith’s reaction, stems from something deeply personal. When Smith called Whitlock out publicly over a year ago, he didn’t just throw general accusations. He named bosses at various networks by name and dared anyone to challenge his account. He came with receipts, and said no one disputed them.

Smith made clear that the two were never particularly close. They knew each other, existed in the same industry circles but weren’t friends though they were ok. However, Whitlock’s pattern of behavior according to Smith genuinely hurt good people in the business and it changed his view of him.

He also made a sharp media ethics point in the process, explaining how Whitlock has used damaging personal information about many people in the industry. Smith says he chooses not to do that. That restraint, he suggested, is what makes crossing that line with Whitlock meaningful rather than routine. “I might disagree with what you say, but I don’t disagree with who you are,” he explained. Whitlock, in his telling, crossed a different line entirely.

As for where things stand today, Smith was blunt. He has no interest in keeping the feud alive for sport. He doesn’t find it entertaining or professionally useful. However, he was equally clear that he isn’t finished. “Trust me, I’m just getting started,” Smith said. “Because it’s personal.” The door to escalation remains open — not out of obsession, but out of principle. Smith believes some things in this industry are simply worth fighting for, even when the fight gets ugly.

Separating Stephen A. from the Man

Tierney has known Smith since 2004. Because of that history, he pressed him on the gap between the on-air persona and the real man.

Smith confirmed without hesitation that two minutes before showtime, he’s quiet. Then the light comes on, and everything shifts. Still, he was clear that the transition isn’t fake. It’s professional responsibility in action.

“You asked them to watch you,” Smith said. “You asked them to have these expectations. You’ve got to answer the call.”

Away from cameras, Smith is a different person entirely. He doesn’t party. He doesn’t chase celebrity circles. Instead, he gravitates toward family — his sisters, his daughters, the people who ground him. “A party to me is being with my family,” he said simply. “Just being around the right people is good enough for me.”

Additionally, Smith credits the gym as his primary reset. He works out five to six days a week. That discipline, he explained, keeps his mind sharp and his energy sustainable across an extraordinarily demanding schedule.

The COVID Scare That Changed His Life

Nothing in the conversation landed harder than Smith’s account of nearly dying during the pandemic. A COVID infection complicated by a routine medical procedure left his lungs devastated. Doctors described them as looking like clouds — almost completely white. He visited the hospital three separate times.

On New Year’s Eve, a doctor delivered a stark ultimatum. If a specific steroid and antibiotic combination failed within three hours, they would call his family. Smith admitted he had mentally surrendered. His girlfriend broke down in tears because she saw it on his face.

“I really thought I was on my way out of here,” he said quietly.

Three hours later, the medication worked. He survived. That experience, consequently, became a hard reset on his entire lifestyle.

Through UFC president Dana White, Smith connected with wellness expert Gary Brecka. Together they overhauled everything. Smith eliminated sugar — his dominant vice for decades. He rebuilt his body from the ground up. His body fat dropped from nearly 30 percent to 10.5 percent. He hasn’t looked back since.

The Political Road — and Why He’s Leaning In

Smith exclaimed that his interest in politics is not new. Tierney confirmed it by sharing with viewers that Smith used to talk about issues back when they worked together over 20 years ago. He also pointed out that after ESPN let him go years ago, Smith resurfaced doing political commentary on 77 WABC. Politics has always lived inside of him.

His core frustration is specific. He resents the assumption that Black Americans must vote Democratic without question or consequence. “If I’m supposed to be Democrat no matter what, you have a license to take me for granted,” he said forcefully.

Smith calls himself a fiscal conservative and social liberal. He has voted Democratic consistently. Yet he refuses to do so blindly or without accountability from the party.

That independent stance attracted attention beyond media circles. Elected officials and clergy approached him directly about running for office. He took it seriously. The sole obstacle is the FCC’s equal-time rule. The moment he formally announces a candidacy, he leaves the air — with zero guarantee of winning.

“Don’t let them come up with a way for me to be on that debate stage and still keep my check,” he said. “If that happens, I will be on that debate stage.” The one opponent he’d genuinely worry about? Marco Rubio.

Beyond winning, though, Smith made his real motivation clear. He wants to stand on that stage and hold politicians accountable for what they’ve done to the country. “I would come for them like nobody has ever come for them before,” he said with unmistakable conviction.

The Friendship That Started It All

The relationship between Smith and Tierney began when Tierney delivered updates at 1050 ESPN Radio in New York during Smith’s show. Stephen A. was simultaneously hosting television, covering the NBA as an insider, and writing for the Inquirer. He was trying to juggle a number of responsibilities and connected with Tierney.

Smith recognized Tierney’s baseball knowledge immediately and saw something worth fighting for. He lobbied management to give Tierney more airtime and a bigger role. “I need him,” Smith recalled thinking. “Let him be my partner.”

That instinct — using his platform to elevate people he believes in — sits at the center of how Smith defines his legacy. Money and titles matter far less to him now. Instead, he talks about building something closer to a coaching tree. He wants to look back and see people he helped along the way actually thriving.

When Tierney jokingly suggested coming on First Take and mixing it up, Smith didn’t deflect or laugh it off. He took him up on it immediately and on the record added, “I’ll make it happen.” He offered Tierney genuine encouragement for his new platform beyond the First Take promise and said, “You’re going to blow up. Don’t even worry about it.”

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