Photo Credit: Nick Wass, Associated Press

There are three certainties in American life: death, taxes, and Stephen A. Smith yelling into a camera like he’s arguing with a smoke alarm that won’t shut off. And for years — years — I’ve sat back, respected the man’s hustle, admired the grind, and appreciated the way he turned screaming into a six-figure skillset before turning it into an eight-figure one.

But with all due respect — and I mean this as someone who respects the craft, respects the business, and respects anyone able to rock a hairline that crisp for that long — Stephen A. Smith is the most overrated TV and radio personality in sports history.

Yeah, I said it. And no, I don’t need a teleprompter to say it. I don’t need a producer waving flashcards behind the camera. I don’t need ESPN’s corporate army polishing my sentences like a pair of dress shoes. What you get from me is unscripted, unpredictable, unfiltered Errol Marks — the guy who grew up in a brutal industry, the guy clawing for airtime, the guy who built his voice brick by brick… and the guy who’s watched Stephen A. Smith choke off the pipeline of new talent like a garden hose in August.

Photo Credit: Justin Casterline, Getty Images

Let’s keep it real: Stephen A.’s takes aren’t hot — they’re reheated. He’s the microwave dinner of sports commentary: comes in a fancy box, looks great from the outside, but once you dig in you realize the middle is still frozen.

Sure, he knows basketball. I’ll give him that. He can break down a pick-and-roll like Gordon Ramsay explains how to ruin a scallop. But the second he talks football, baseball, hockey, or God forbid UFC? Brother sounds like he skimmed the sport’s Wikipedia page during the commercial break.

This man got $20 million a year — not because of groundbreaking insight, but because he saw Pat McAfee’s contract and said, “NOOOOO SIR! I MUST HAVE THE BIGGER, BADDER BAG!” Stephen A.’s ego didn’t just walk into the negotiating room — it demanded its own seat, its own meal, and a parking space.

Let’s be honest: ESPN didn’t pay him twenty million for his sports knowledge. They paid him twenty million to scream like he’s trying to start a lawnmower.

But here’s the real problem — and this comes straight from someone living this business every day:

**Stephen A.’s greed hasn’t just hurt ESPN.

It’s hurt the entire industry.**

Every time he secures another megadeal, three young hosts lose their shot. Every time he muscles in for more airtime, another fresh voice gets pushed to podcast purgatory. The man has more shows than a parent with joint custody — it’s Monday on “First Take,” Tuesday on his podcast, Wednesday on a cameo in some Marvel knockoff, Thursday in political commentary, Friday doing interviews like he’s trying to run for Congress.

Stephen A. is everywhere — except giving space for anyone else to shine.

I respect his success. I really do. You don’t get to his level by accident. But at some point, there has to be a conversation about how the industry grows, not just the individuals in it.

And that’s where I come in.

**Allow me to introduce myself to the world properly.

Photo Credit: Errol Marks, SportsontheGo1

My name is Errol Marks, and I’m the next problem Stephen A. Smith never saw coming.**

I don’t need corporate scripts. I don’t need gimmicks.
What I do have — what Stephen A. can’t buy, can’t rehearse, can’t duplicate — is authentic, unfiltered personality. Real sports talk. Real perspective. Real humor with an edge that can cut through the static.

Put me on camera with Stephen A. for one hour — just one — and by the time we wrap, I’ll tie the entire debate into a bow, stick a tag on it, and hand Stephen A. back to ESPN like a Christmas gift nobody really asked for but everyone pretends to love.

You know how we compare contracts in sports? I’d compare personalities the same way.
Stephen A. is the flashy veteran with the max deal, the commercials, the movie cameos, and the ego that needs its own locker.

I’m the hungry undrafted free agent who shows up to camp and lights the entire depth chart on fire.

Put us on the same field, and I promise the fans something ESPN hasn’t delivered in years:

Originality.
Honesty.
Energy.
And takes that actually belong to a human being — not a teleprompter.

Because that’s the real difference.
I don’t need scripts because I think my takes.
Stephen A.’s takes are uploaded to him like software updates.

He’s the iPhone of sports personalities — shiny, expensive, polished — but every year the battery gets a little weaker. Meanwhile, I’m the Android: customizable, creative, different, and built for people who don’t just want the brand name stamped on top.

And yes, I know ESPN would never allow me to sit across from him. Not in a real debate. Not in a true one-on-one where we’re allowed to go off script and let the audience decide who has the better mind for this business.

Because here’s the not-so-secret secret:
They’re terrified.

Terrified that someone without a corporate leash might actually say something real. Terrified that viewers might choose originality over theatrics.

Terrified that a new voice — my voice — might shake up the entire structure. But that’s where I thrive.

I’m not here to take Stephen A.’s job.
I’m here to take the whole stage.

The sports media world is starving for new energy. For new stories. For new voices. For someone who can critique, analyze, entertain, and inform without sounding like they pre-gamed with a script blessed by Disney.

Twitter: @ErrolMarks34
LinkedIn: Errol Marks
Instagram: @rollothamouth34