Nina Mandell

USA TODAY Sports

NEW YORK - It feels a bit like the first day of school at ESPN's new South Street Seaport studios on Labor Day - the first time that First Take is filming in its new New York studio, a gorgeous floor overlooking the East River.

If, that is, any other first day of school happened to be filled with vaguely famous people, television personalities and former athletes. Victor Cruz, who just started his new gig with the network, sits in the green room chatting with Fat Joe, who is there to do a live performance to kick off First Take's New York experience in the muggy heat outside.

Amid all the buzz and bustle, the show's star, Stephen A. Smith, calls into the production meeting from a car bringing him to the studio. When he arrives in the room, mid-meeting, still on his phone, wearing a purple tie and matching handkerchief, he carefully removes his Apple earbuds, putting them in their case and then in their bag.

Mike Greenberg, whose show Get Up films before First Take stops in the conference room as he's preparing for his own show and waits for his presence to be noted. "Just wanted to say good luck," he says, shaking Smith's hand. "Everyone's counting on you."

It's meant as a joke, but to Smith it's not. The new studio in New York, to him, represents the company's investment in First Take. Which means an investment in him. And he feels more pressure than ever to carry it.

"The more shine you get, the more pressure mounts on you to produce and answer the call. And that's my mentality, that's the mentality I go to work with every single day," he says.

Photo by Joe Faraoni / ESPN Images

Smith - who makes between $3 and $3.5 million per year according to reports, and also switched agents in 2016 in a move widely speculated to be driven by his desire for a more lucrative deal after Skip Bayless left for a big-money contract at Fox Sports - has long prided himself on his work ethic: He has two phone numbers, one of which is reserved specifically for sources he'll talk to whenever, wherever, no matter what he's doing. He sends emails about show ideas and topics late at night, before waking up to be in the First Take meeting before 8. He'll appear on SportsCenter to talk NBA after a night game and show no signs the next day.

"You know what's great about working with Stephen A.? When the red light goes on, he performs, every time," Kellerman says. "Sick, going through a family tragedy, I know he didn't sleep, I know he was on SportsCenter late last night, I never have to worry about that little red light going on."

Earlier this year, that full-court press attitude started to crack. Smith says he has a longtime practice of budgeting his time to fit family time in around his work schedule. Yet these past 15 months - as ESPN made those bets on him - have been some of his most difficult and he's had to spend more time off camera than he ever has. First, his mother, with whom he was very close, passed away. One of his four older sisters has been ill, he said. His father died last month.

"I've been dealing with a lot," he says. "I can't express my gratitude enough to my boss, Dave Roberts and Norby Williamson who are incredibly supportive of me and all of my loved ones and the folks in my inner circle who have been incredibly supportive of me - I'm not the type of person that I get too emotional, I just put my head down and I get on my grind. But it's been hard. It's been hard because I'm the patriarch of my family." (His older brother died in a car accident in 1992.) "And to have my four older sisters, to have 13 nieces and nephews and to have people who are so close to my family lose loved ones, everybody's leaning on me and all of that stuff. And you welcome it because you understand that role you have to play, but it doesn't make it any less difficult."

Exhausted this summer from the NBA postseason and the draft and his personal life, he finally was convinced to take some time off to spend with his family. "My attitude is this is the time I gotta do what I gotta do," he said. "(My manager) was telling me that. Family first. Take care of what you need to take care. The show's going to be here when you come back. Not to mention the fact that I have a reputation. And one reputation that I'm incredibly proud of. You have never heard anyone say that they have found anyone that outworks me."

That work involves watching and reading about sports, and talking to sources, of course. But if there's something that sets Smith apart, it is his ability to identify the element of any story that will ignite the most interesting debate. On this and every other day, Smith and Kellerman spend the pre-show minutes working to find different sides of any argument so they can both have a take they believe in. They carefully plot out angles to figure out where they disagree. On that Monday, one subject they choose is the defending Super Bowl Champion Eagles.

While both thought it wasn't a problem that Carson Wentz wasn't starting (he hadn't been medically cleared yet), they had different thoughts on whether or not fans should worry about the upcoming season. Kellerman said they should - after all, what team other than the Patriots hasn't taken a step back after winning the Super Bowl? Smith, on the other hand, thought it was all fine. The subject of who should join LeBron James at the Lakers was more easily split: Kellerman thought Kawhi Leonard, while Smith would later go into one of his signature rants in favor of Klay Thompson.

"I want to state this for the record. ESPN and every employee at this company should be ashamed of ourselves."

Host Molly Qerim asked: "Why?"

"Because Mychal Thompson works for ESPN," Smith said, his voice rising one level. "He happens to be the daddy of Klay Thompson."

His voice reached a third pitch.

"He is our colleague!" he said, fully ranting. "And the lack of respect shown to him and his son is hard to take."

Kellerman says he never doubts Smith is saying exactly what he actually feels. The voice that brings that argument, he says, is the only part of him "putting on a show."

"He feels that way but he's not going to call you up and yell at you that way. I talk to him on the phone or texting and it's not like caps lock exclamation point the whole time," he said. "But he does recognize this is … the camera's on you."

Photo by Joe Faraoni / ESPN Images

* * *

There was one time, in Stephen A. Smith's life, when he remembers feeling nervous before a debate.

He was making a guest appearance on The View and he walked into a studio filled with women.

It's not that Smith isn't used to debating women - it is, in fact, how he got his start, as the younger brother of four sisters. But he was the only man in the room, as he remembers it.

"A lot of times, particularly in this day and age, you'll have men that will get around women and it's like, you'll, you'll clam up depending on the environment. I'm very, very comfortable. It doesn't bother me because it's like growing up all over again," he said. "You know, first of all, I'm usually wrong. Women usually beat me up, but I'll lose a debate to a woman any day of the week. But I try. But it can be intimidating - when I filled in on The View, I'll never forget this as long as I live.

"I was on The View and I walked out on set and they have stadium seating and it's like they're right on top of you and there was nothing but women. In the audience (and around). I mean nothing. I was the only guy there. All by myself. And to my left was Barbara Walters with Elisabeth Hasselbeck."

The topic of the day was Tiger Woods - it was 2010 and the height of the golfer's cheating scandal. Smith, then a Fox Sports radio host and Philadelphia Inquirer sports columnist, tried to explain to Walters and the panel that men do not want to be monogamous. "You're out there, you're growing up, you're trying to get with as many women as you possibly can," he tells the incredulous panel.

If you watch the video, it's clear he held his own. Inside, he says, he was a bundle of nerves.

As he's telling this story this week, his voice is slightly rising in volume. Not to the level that it gets to in his fiercest debates, but just enough to convey the slight bit of panic he felt at that moment. "And to the right was Whoopi Goldberg with Joy Behar. And I thought, 'Lord have mercy! What have I gotten myself into?' "

He's telling me this story because I asked him where he learned to debate others about sports - which he does with Kellerman on First Take for at least two hours a day, and often more - in a way that seems he's never out of energy or in a mood to back down.

I wondered, specifically, whether that had something to do with growing up with four sisters and a brother who were eager to debate him on anything from sports to cereal to making the bed. "We fought all the time. All. The. Time. He was the youngest so he got picked on the most," his sister, Carmen, told me later. "But he was also protected the most."

Not that Smith remembers any coddling.

"The reason I bring that up," continues Smith, discussing his appearance on The View, "is because I'll come on First Take and I consider everything in life in the debate format a walk in the park compared to that moment. Because that's the only time I was ever nervous."

Smith worked his way from covering high school sports to college sports reporter to NBA writer to columnist at the Inquirer, and his engaging style earned him his first opportunity at ESPN in 2003, when he was a contributor to NBA Shootaround (since renamed NBA Countdown). He hosted a variety of shows on ESPN radio and ESPN before becoming Bayless' official foil on First Take in 2012.

His talent manager, Rushion McDonald, heard him on a radio show in 2006 and decided that he would become a star (he only officially started working with him earlier this year). "When he would call in and do in an interview, it was like one question and then he shut it down. His response was so eloquent and articulate, I always tease him about how his articulation is and his use of verbs and the English language," he says. "He's a genius, how's he able just improve a question and extend it for two or three minutes."

That voice, and its familiar octave-and-volume increasing tone, has become more and more synonymous with ESPN since the network made him one of its highest-paid talents in 2015. But Smith didn't grow up thinking he would talk about sports for a living. He wanted to be in the mix. His family thought he would be a lawyer because of his ability to argue all day.

As a kid, Smith fell deeply in love with boxing and the game of basketball but as a high school senior he was 5-foot-10 (he's now 6-2) and weighed about 135 pounds. "I could really, really shoot the basketball, but you know, I could get blown away by a piece of paper, you know, that's how frail I was," he said. The only basketball scholarship offer he received was from the Fashion Institute of Technology, where he spent two years as a communications major. The coach, Marvin Rippy, he said, was "one hell of a tyrant" but a results-oriented guy.

"It's because of him that uh, I loved the Nick Sabans of the world even though I don't like what I saw from him this weekend," he said, referring to the way the Alabama coach snapped at a sideline reporter's question. "I love guys that are demanding. I love guys that are non-apologetic about the real world, slapping you in the face and they're going to make sure that you know what's coming, no sugarcoating."

Smith's team went 35-4 and was ranked 15th in the nation in junior college, he says. "And we were pretty much the only straight guys in the entire school. There was nobody else. It was a bunch of women. And other than that the rest of the population at the school was pretty much gay," he says. "So the basketball team, 12-15 guys. And that was it. And the whole school liked us. So we, uh … it was a nice experience."

He had a growth spurt and transferred to Winston-Salem State University where he played basketball and majored in mass communications. He graduated and worked at a series of southern newspapers before landing a big-city break - one that would force him to stray from sports for a short time.

He joined the New York Daily News in 1993 and the sports department was on strike. He was assigned to cover crime, and ended up telling the mother of a victim of a serial killer that her daughter was dead.

"I never want to do that again. I never want to. I never want to have to. I mean, the woman, she was so kind and so respectful considering the circumstances," he says. "I'm always appreciative of that, but I never, ever, ever in life want to go through something like that again, having to be in someone's face, asking them questions at a moment like that and you just realized how serious life is and it elevates your level of appreciation for sports because this is people's livelihood. There's a lot of money. We get all of that, but in the end it's the game. It's a game."

* * *

Yet Smith has, in fact, been looking beyond sports. He has a small role on his favorite soap opera, General Hospital. And he is excited to host SportsCenter specials because he wants to show off his hosting skills. He envisions a day when he can shift to prime time - or later. Something that lets him stay up until 3 a.m. and start his day a bit later. His early wake up time for First Take makes it difficult for him to be present at NBA games and boxing matches, something he feels is important so that the people he shouts about have access to him.

But his aspirations - his contract is up at ESPN in 2021 - go beyond just yelling about sports.

"Late night, for me, is just the ultimate fantasy," Smith says. "The dream. The only question I have about myself on late night is, 'Am I going to be able to do the opening monologue?' because I'm not a comedian. So the Lettermans, and the Lenos, and the Kimmels, and back in the day with Johnny Carson, the Joan Rivers of the world, to the days of Jimmy Fallon now and Stephen Colbert.

"These are pros, these are comedians who know how to be funny. Their job to some degree is to be funny, particularly with that opening monologue. That would be a challenge for me. I don't find anything else about that would be a challenge.

"Not to say anything negative about anybody. I'm saying I don't find the rest of it would be challenging to just vibe and sit there and talk and be in the talk show kind of thing."

He believes he can do it because of his journalism background - he writes his own questions when he does interviews, no matter who they're with. He has a pulse, he says, on what people are talking about.

But that's all for later. Right now, he's focused on First Take and anything else ESPN asks him to do. The new studio comes with serious responsibilities: Deliver ratings, to start.

"No matter what I've done with First Take is nothing compared to what I intend to do," he says. "I intend on making sure that ESPN is incredibly happy with the investment that they've made."

His loyalty to the network that made him famous always comes first - at least until contract time. And maybe then, in lieu of late night, he'll just negotiate for a slightly later start.

"My perfect world would be First Take in prime time. Anything that enables me to get up later is heaven to me. If I could start my day at 12 noon, you could work me til two, three in the morning and I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't blink and I'd be happier than a pig in mud," he said. "They'd actually see me smiling."

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