If one can get past the irony of ESPN — no, Stephen A. Smith — producing a documentary series chronicling “the evolution of sports talk debate programming,” enough to judge the project objectively, Up for Debate, which debuted last week on ESPN+, leaves the viewer wanting. Not necessarily wanting for a wholly unbiased critique of the medium — ESPN did suprisingly well to include voices from a variety of opinions across the sports media spectrum. Viewers weren’t left wanting for star power either — the series featured the likes of Troy Aikman, Michael Wilbon, Jemele Hill, Hannah Storm, and Chris “Mad Dog” Russo, among many others. No, viewers were simply left wanting for more why?
For a docu-series on a subject that is hard to imagine many were clamoring for, the three episode ESPN+ original felt like it barely scratched the surface of what it purportedly set out to do. In a press release promoting the series, executive producer Stephen A. Smith claims, “We’re diving deep into the heart of the game, breaking down barriers and showcasing the evolution of sports discourse.” Rather than diving deep though, the series failed to point out or glossed over important foundational details that led to the “embrace debate” era of sports talk.
As has been well documented, the shift towards “embrace debate” programming was made because the financial incentives for such programming were much better than the alternative, which the docu-series rightly acknowledges at several points but never truly expounds on the topic. One premise of the docu-series was that debate television is a) cheaper to produce than a more news-forward show like SportsCenter and b) able to attract more viewers. Severely lacking was an explanation for why this was the case, and notably, the ruthlessness with which ESPN sought this end.
Absent from the docu-series was any mention of the person often credited as the architect of the “embrace debate” premise at ESPN to begin with: Jamie Horowitz. The former First Take lead and controversial multi-hyphenate ushered in a a culture of unremitting focus on ratings that shaped how the show is seen in its modern iteration. Not only did Horowitz’ “strictly analytical” approach lead to the realization that appealing to outrage held viewers longer than more sedate discussion, but that the same logic can apply to which topics a show covers as well. For Horowitz, it made more sense to talk about the Dallas Cowboys in May than it did to discuss the French Open, because more viewers cared about the Cowboys. His logic was sound and reflects the current state of ESPN’s morning programming, though despite his fingerprints being all over ESPN and FS1 (where he later worked), his influence was omitted from the docu-series.
Up for Debate traces the origins of debate-style programming to shows like The Sports Reporters and later Pardon the Interruption. These shows took opinions that were traditionally found in a local newspaper column and put them on television; and as would be natural if one put several sportswriters in a room together, they engaged in authentic and often hearty debate. Its a rather flattering depiction of how today’s contrived and manufactured “embrace debate” programming came to be, but certainly a necessary origin story to tell.
Once again untold however, is the shift in tone from the more organic discussions of The Sports Reporters to the performative outrage that defines First Take. Up for Debate failed to detail any of the greater forces atrophying media outlets like ESPN today. Despite the inclusion of ESPN chairman Jimmy Pitaro in the docu-series, absent was any in-depth discussion of how ESPN’s business model, which primarily relies on the declining cable bundle, has gutted its journalistic operation and further incentivized programming for the lowest common denominator.
Instead, “embrace debate” is seen as an inevitability, and in the final episode of the series, an art form. And while sports talk is an entertainment products at its core, there is plenty of room for programming that isn’t debate-centric, as evidenced by the multitude of successful sports media outfits that buck the format. Take Dan Le Batard, Stephen A. Smith’s chief foil in the docu-series, as exhibit A. Le Batard created a sports media company, Meadowlark Media, that doesn’t rely on debate fodder for cheap attention, rather using his platform for more subdued and introspective discussion on sports. Even ESPN’s latest programming acquisition, The Pat McAfee Show, which the network paid in the high eight-figures to license, hardly deals in the faux-outrage that epitomizes First Take.
This framing discredits Up for Debate as an authority on how modern sports talk has developed. Instead, it projects as a platform with which Stephen A. Smith can rationalize how he’s influenced the industry in his image. This is the crux of what is wrong with the docu-series. Rather than aiming to accurately document how sports media has gone from Howard Cosell to Skip Bayless, the series is used as a vehicle for Stephen A. Smith’s perspective on the evolution of sports media, one in which he’s the main character. Without detailing any of the media executives, behind-the-scenes professionals like Horowitz, or the economic forces impacting journalism writ large, Up for Debate felt incomplete.
It’s a wonder the docu-series was produced in the first place. Certainly the audience for this topic is not inherently large — or at least not so large as to warrant an entire docu-series. It was hard to leave the final episode without wondering, “Who was this project for?” Lacking in depth, it certainly wasn’t made for avid readers of industry publications. Outside of that, who is the audience for surface-level discussion of sports media?
It felt as if ESPN itself was the audience. Up for Debate felt canon in a way that fits perfectly into ESPN’s self-aggrandizing culture. The docu-series succeeded in raising the stakes for a topic that has very low stakes to begin with, all while casting ESPN as pivotal to that growth and success. And this is true, ESPN pioneered the sports talk genre (on television), but ultimately the piece lacked self-awareness. While ESPN allowed for some dissenting opinions in the docu-series, they failed to answer the question of why so many of its viewers have sought alternatives to the network in the first place. ESPN’s own culpability for “embrace debate” and its repercussions on the industry was left on the cutting room floor.
