That's how I feel. That's all, it's not a crime.
In the ongoing negotiation between opinion and fact that defines modern sports media, Stephen A. Smith has chosen a revealing hill to stand on: the claim that NASCAR drivers are not real athletes. Despite measured pushback from the drivers themselves, from quantifiable fitness data, and from a phone call with Michael Jordan — one of the most credentialed voices in the history of sport — Smith has held his position, reframing stubbornness as principle and evidence as mere consensus pressure. It is a moment that says less about racing and more about the incentive structures that reward certainty over accuracy.
- Smith's on-air claim that NASCAR drivers aren't real athletes ignited a swift and credentialed backlash from the racing world itself.
- Kevin Harvick didn't just argue back — he brought in-car fitness tracking data, turning a media debate into a collision between opinion and measurable fact.
- Michael Jordan, co-owner of NASCAR team 23XI Racing, called Smith directly to challenge him, and Smith argued back — treating the rebuke as validation rather than correction.
- Smith reframed the mounting opposition as 'gang mentality,' positioning his isolated stance as intellectual courage rather than factual error.
- With drivers, data, and an NBA legend all aligned against him, Smith's refusal to move suggests the debate will persist — not because it is unresolved, but because resolution is not the point.
Stephen A. Smith received a phone call from Michael Jordan. The NBA legend, who co-owns NASCAR team 23XI Racing with driver Denny Hamlin, wanted to push back on something Smith had said on air: that NASCAR drivers are not real athletes. Smith took the call — and argued back anyway.
The dispute had already been building. Joey Logano and Kevin Harvick had both challenged Smith publicly, with Harvick going further by presenting in-car fitness tracking data to illustrate the physical demands of competitive racing. The evidence was specific and quantifiable. Smith held his ground regardless.
On air, he reframed the dynamic entirely. What looked like stubbornness, he suggested, was actually principle — a refusal to follow what he called 'gang mentality,' the tendency of media voices to cluster around popular opinion for safety. 'The hard part,' he told his audience, 'is this is where I stand, and I genuinely feel this way, and here's why.'
But the framing obscures a meaningful problem. Whether NASCAR drivers are athletes is not a matter of opinion — it is a matter of observable, measurable fact. The physical conditioning required, the g-forces endured, the split-second decisions made under extreme stress: these are realities, not perspectives. When Harvick brought data to the conversation, he wasn't offering a counterpoint. He was offering evidence.
What the moment ultimately reveals is not Smith's contrarianism but the strange alchemy of sports talk media, where a demonstrably false claim becomes a 'hot take,' expert pushback becomes groupthink, and a direct correction from Michael Jordan becomes just another reason to double down. Being memorable, it turns out, matters more than being right.
Stephen A. Smith got a phone call from Michael Jordan. The NBA legend, who co-owns the NASCAR team 23XI Racing alongside driver Denny Hamlin, wanted to argue with him about something Smith had said on air: that NASCAR drivers are not real athletes.
Smith took the call. And then he argued back.
"You know who wanted to correct me about the NASCAR thing? Michael Jordan," Smith said on his SiriusXM show. "Michael Jordan. I argued with him! Because that's how I feel! I'm being honest. That's how I feel. That's all, it's not a crime. That's what makes radio and sports talk."
The comment came after weeks of pushback from the racing world itself. Joey Logano and Kevin Harvick, both accomplished NASCAR drivers, had already challenged Smith's position publicly. Harvick went further, bringing in-car fitness tracking data to demonstrate the physical demands of competitive racing. The evidence was specific, quantifiable, and hard to dismiss.
But Smith held his ground. On air, he reframed the entire dynamic. He suggested that what looked like stubbornness was actually principle—a willingness to stand apart from consensus when he genuinely believed something to be true. "Don't you notice what we call the gang mentality?" he asked his audience. "Where everybody in my line of work jumps on popular opinion so they are lumped in with the vast majority of people who feel the way they feel? That's easy. The hard part is, 'this is where I stand, and I genuinely feel this way, and here's why.'"
The framing is revealing. Smith positioned himself as the contrarian willing to swim against the tide, the voice refusing to follow the herd. But there's a problem embedded in that logic: NASCAR drivers being athletes isn't actually a matter of opinion. It's a fact. The physical conditioning required to pilot a race car at high speed for hours, the g-forces involved, the split-second decision-making under extreme stress—these are measurable, observable realities. When drivers like Harvick brought fitness data to the conversation, they weren't offering an opinion. They were offering evidence.
What makes this moment interesting isn't that Smith is wrong. It's that he's wrong in a very particular way: he's chosen a position that isolates him from the people who actually do the thing he's commenting on, from a legendary athlete who owns a piece of the sport, and from basic empirical reality. And rather than reconsider, he's repackaged his stubbornness as intellectual courage.
This is the strange alchemy of modern sports media. A demonstrably false claim becomes a "hot take." Pushback from experts becomes "gang mentality." And a phone call from Michael Jordan—one of the greatest athletes who ever lived, telling you directly that you're wrong—becomes just another opportunity to double down. Smith's willingness to argue with Jordan, to refuse to budge even when confronted by someone with both authority and skin in the game, says something about how the incentive structure of talk radio works. Being memorable matters more than being right. Being consistent matters more than being accurate. The show goes on.
Notable Quotes
Michael Jordan called to correct him about NASCAR drivers being athletes, and Smith argued back rather than concede— Stephen A. Smith, on SiriusXM
Smith framed his refusal to budge as principled contrarianism, suggesting others follow 'gang mentality' by accepting popular opinion— Stephen A. Smith, on air
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
So Michael Jordan actually called him to argue about this?
Yes. Jordan co-owns 23XI Racing with Denny Hamlin, so he has a direct stake in the sport. He called to push back on Smith's claim that NASCAR drivers aren't athletes.
And Smith just... refused to agree with him?
Completely. He argued back and then went on air to explain why he was right to do so. He framed it as standing by his convictions rather than following the crowd.
But the drivers had already brought data. Fitness tracking, physical evidence.
Right. Harvick specifically brought in-car metrics showing the demands of the sport. But Smith's response wasn't to engage with the evidence. It was to say that everyone else was just following popular opinion, and he was being brave by dissenting.
That's circular reasoning.
Exactly. He's treating a factual question—do NASCAR drivers meet the physical and technical criteria of athletes?—as if it's a matter of personal conviction. It's not. It's measurable.
Why does he keep doing this, then?
Because in sports media, being memorable and provocative often matters more than being accurate. A hot take that gets people talking is more valuable than a quiet correction. Smith has built a career on strong opinions. Backing down, even when you're wrong, feels like losing.
Even to Michael Jordan?
Especially to Michael Jordan. Because if you concede to him, the story becomes "Smith was wrong." If you argue with him, the story becomes "Smith argued with Michael Jordan." One is a defeat. The other is a moment.