The business of sports media is changing. Streaming services like Amazon Prime and Netflix are airing more live sporting events than ever, while new podcasts pop up by the day across a glut of platforms. As viewers adjust to the ever-changing realities, on-camera talent continues to search for relevance and a lasting connection to increasingly fragmented (and opinionated) audiences.
On occasion, that search for attention has led to off-putting and regrettable content. ESPN host Pat McAfee had to issue an apology on his show in July, months after perpetuating a salacious rumor about an Ole Miss student. He also engaged in a spat with The Athletic reporter Andrew Marchand, calling some of Marchand’s reporting on him “bull****.”
And when McAfee wasn’t shooting from the hip on his show, colleague Stephen A. Smith was using his podcast to spout off about politics. These two larger-than-life personalities represent a drastic shift in ESPN’s talent strategy. No longer do big names work for the company, they work with them. Licensing deals and carefully constructed contracts allow networks to air popular shows, but the talent on those shows have more freedom to do just about anything they want.
Never before have ESPN commentators been afforded the kind of autonomy McAfee and Smith enjoy. It causes one to wonder about an eventual tipping point. Shannon Sharpe was a smart addition to ESPN First Take, but his legal issues made his relationship with the network unsustainable, and the two sides cut ties in July. His popular podcast “Club Shay Shay,” however, continued, even as Sharpe faced a $50 million lawsuit — suggesting that loyal fans will watch you no matter what, as long as they like the content you deliver them.
McAfee has drawn this kind of true-blue following. The ESPN host has been extraordinarily outspoken about ESPN management, referring to some of them by name on his show. How much longer can the freewheeling continue before either McAfee or Smith says or does something that the network is forced to address?
What McAfee, Smith and other talking heads offer is content, and that’s the name of the game. Networks are craving people who can draw attention to their product. Social media influencers and content creators — like ESPN’s Katie Feeney — are claiming TV space once occupied by more conventional broadcasters. Tomorrow has become today, leaving traditional journalism out in the cold in favor of people who have a lot to say but very few meaningful stories to tell.
Having an immediate take on a subject is expected, but the results can be disastrous. Both Ryan Clark and Scott Van Pelt learned this in October, when they offered strong opinions on the details surrounding former LSU wide receiver Kyren Lacy’s arrest, but without any substantive reporting to back it up. They both later apologized.
Robert Griffin III faced backlash back in May when he suggested Angel Reese ‘hated’ fellow WNBA star Caitlin Clark. His social media post drew extreme vitriol, but it’s hard to argue that Griffin hadn’t considered the waves his post would make. This has become even more of a trend in 2025. For some sports media personalities, the attention received (shares, likes, replies, reposts) from one controversial post is worth the pushback received for blatantly making inflammatory claims. Many times, the networks who pay this talent feel no need to offer a response. Within moments, something else will happen, and the world will move on to the next controversy.
The boundaries are being pushed, misinformation has become the norm, and the competition for our time and energy rages on, making genuine stories and storytellers that much more valuable.
While his style is anything but traditional, Pablo Torre has become one of the industry’s most prominent sports media personalities. Through his podcast “Pablo Torre Finds Out,” the former ESPN pundit has found a way to report hard news with edge and flair. Among the stories covered in 2025: the nature of Bill Belichick’s relationship with girlfriend Jordon Hudson and how it affects his job as head coach of North Carolina football; a secret document that suggests collusion between NFL owners; and, most famously, allegations that Los Angeles Clippers owner Steve Ballmer devised an elaborate endorsement scheme to circumvent the NBA’s salary cap in order to pay star player Kawhi Leonard millions of dollars. Just days ago, the podcast’s YouTube channel published a 7.5-hour video filled with his reporting on the Clippers scandal.
Torre’s brand of journalism could provide a template for how future sports media members make names for themselves. Even with his obvious reporting chops, Torre’s “look at me” style is not all that different from the strategy employed by the McAfees and Smiths of the world. Torre’s journalistic pieces are crafted in a way that allow him to be a part of the story. And he uses social media — much like other content creators — to cleverly coax others towards his work.
What is still clear in 2025 is that there is no content like live games, and there is great reward for those who can call a good game. NBC’s Mike Tirico has become the face of sports television’s biggest events. This year, he added lead NBA play-by-play duties to his already full plate. In February, he’ll call his first Super Bowl and host the Winter Olympics.
Earlier this year, lead CBS college basketball voice Ian Eagle was named Amazon Prime Video’s number one NBA announcer. Before TNT lost NBA rights, he served as one of the network’s top voices. Within the last 12 months, Eagle has called games for Netflix, Amazon, CBS, TNT Sports, YES Network and Westwood One Radio.
When ABC Sports lifer Keith Jackson called the 2005 Holiday Bowl on ESPN, he felt out of place. Jackson had worked for ABC Sports since the 1960s, and the thought of him holding a microphone for any other company seemed preposterous. Twenty years ago, it would’ve been difficult to imagine Jim Nantz calling a game for any network other than CBS. But with properties scattered across so many platforms and quality broadcasters in high demand, the idea of announcers working for one company their entire careers is now foreign.
Scattered. That one word can sum up the whole of sports media. Everything is everywhere. And everyone — from network executives to loyal viewers to the producers and broadcasters bringing us sports television’s big events — is searching for what works. What (and who) will connect with today’s audience? How much content can people stand? Who will become the next McAfee? How many new podcasts can resonate with a wide audience? How many bells and whistles can be added to a game broadcast? Some of the changes have worked, some have failed miserably. What is undoubtedly clear is that in 2025 and beyond, the way we consume sports media has changed and is changing, and so are the personalities who bring us inside the sports we love.
