Sign up to our free sport newsletter for all the latest news on everything from cycling to boxing
Sign up to our free sport email for all the latest news
Sign up to our free sport email for all the latest news
“I looked at myself in the mirror. There was nothing on me. I just didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I knew I had to, because I’ve got three kids, but I just didn’t know how.” As Adam Smith speaks, I can see embryonic tears clinging to his eyeballs, intent not to drip beyond the dam of his lower eyelid. To be honest, I’m looking through the same tears on my side of the table.
It’s strange to hear the voice of boxing piercing through the background noise of a west London cafe, rather than the background noise of a sold-out arena. On an early autumn morning in Acton, Smith is speaking over the occasional hiss of a milk steamer and clink of cups and plates, rather than the dull thud of punches and inebriated roar of a boxing crowd. But here he is. No microphone, no headset: raw and unfiltered.
It’s no surprise that Smith knows his way around a story. During our 90-plus minutes of conversation, he reels off tale after tale from his three decades at ringside with Sky Sports, and drops legendary name after legendary name (yet never boastfully). He does so as fluidly and enthusiastically as if he were on the job, and after he reveals he studied Theatre and Dramatic Arts at university, it makes sense that he orates like a voice actor: not so much accentuating words with movements, but rather drawing those words from his mouth with motion. Now and then, he’ll raise an eyebrow to lift out one word, as if it was attached to a string, then sling it across the table with an outstretched hand.
But as Smith reaches the most compelling story of all – his own – he takes his first true pause of the day, finally needing to search for the right words. Those enthusiastically raised eyebrows are replaced by troubled, furrowed ones, as he recalls his harrowing experience with cancer over the last two years.
“Yeah, I… errr… It.. It was a brutal period,” the 53-year-old finally manages. “I’m very, very lucky to be here today. I didn’t feel great physically or mentally, something was wrong,” he continues, reflecting on the start of 2023. “Eventually I found blood in my urine. It was sporadic, but I knew people who’d had prostate cancer, so I monitored it until it got worse and worse.”
Smith, who had never taken a sick day in 29 years at Sky, and who doesn’t recall a sick day from his time at school, finally saw a doctor and was given antibiotics for a suspected urinary infection. The antibiotics had little to no effect, with Smith still feeling drained day to day.
“Somebody said to me, ‘You look like you’ve lost a bit of weight,’ and I thought, ‘I’ve got cancer.’” That instantly? “Yes,” Smith confirms. “I don’t know what [that made me think that]. I went back to the hospital, and they said my kidney levels were low, my white blood cells were all over the place. They said it was one of three things: a urinary infection, gallstones, or bladder cancer.
“The NHS put me on a very fast programme. I had a CT scan, and then I had a call almost straight away. I went back in, and I knew it was serious. A urologist told me I needed a nephrostomy [a tube inserted into the kidney] and a biopsy. He showed me a screen and said: ‘This is one of the biggest tumours we’ve seen in a bladder, and it’s extremely near the bladder wall.’ My kidney had failed, so I had about four days to have the nephrostomy or I wouldn’t make it. I had it within two hours, and the biopsy the next day.”
It’s barely conceivable, but the bad news was about to get worse for Smith.
“After that, I was in a ward. I remember eight urologists in purple outfits came in, closed the curtain and one said: ‘Adam, I know you’ve been through the mill in the last few weeks, but we’ve got some very serious news.’ I thought they were going to tell me I was dead. I thought I’d have six weeks or something.
“They said I had invasive, aggressive bladder cancer, and it’s about to break through the muscle wall. ‘You need to have an urgent operation, have your bladder out, your prostate out, and a bag – a stoma for the rest of your life. And we’ve got to see if the cancer has spread.’ I had a six-hour operation, 19 lymph nodes taken out. The cancer hadn’t spread, thankfully, but I needed three months of chemotherapy and to learn how a stoma works. I ended up having over 150 blood tests and spending three-and-a-half months in four different hospitals – two NHS, two private.”
In the last two years, Smith has been through the wringer. The murmurs around his sudden absence from Sky shows in 2023 were a testament to his ever-presence over the last 30 years, and they were only silenced late last year, when he made the shock announcement that he had been suffering from cancer – but that he was now cancer-free, mercifully. The news was accompanied by a statement on his departure from Sky, a team he still holds in the highest regard, and his first appearance at a boxing show in a year came at Katie Taylor’s rematch with Chantelle Cameron in Dublin, in November.
Nine months later, it’s a lift to see him walk through the door looking well, and to hear that trademark voice – always assured and often commanding – once again. But it’s not quite that simple.
“I look healthy, but underneath is a wrecked body,” Smith admits. “I’ve lost major parts of it. A lot of people are in much worse situations, but it’s a tough new life. You have tubes at night, it’s not easy. And after the operation, last spring, I got an ileus: my entire body was blocked, food wouldn’t go through for 10 days. I lost four stone in weight, then I had a twisted bowel. It all went wrong. I was a mess, I was in agony, I couldn’t move.
“The hardest thing was learning to walk again; I had to sit on a chair in the shower for a couple of months, because I couldn’t stand. But my family were unbelievable, Sky were amazing. I still had many, many lonely nights, but I owe everything to my doctors. I saw my bladder consultant at the end of last year and I said: ‘I have to be honest, I didn’t think I’d make it.’ He said: ‘I’ve got to be honest, I didn’t think you would either.’”
Smith gradually learned to walk again, moving a little more each day, and eventually helping at food banks and homeless charities.
“I go into a food bank and see people in wheelchairs who are happy to get a can of sweetcorn and some fresh veg, and I think about how fortunate and privileged I’ve been in life,” he says. “I’ll probably never be 100 per cent again, but I’ve put the weight back on, I’m walking a lot, I’ve picked up a tennis racket. And my three kids have their dad. I’d never be brave enough to get in the ring, but when I had to fight for my life…” It’s one of those rare instances where the right word deserts Smith.
“I make sure I’m as present as I can be with family now. And I want to say thank you to the boxing world. It can be an acidic place, but the boxing fraternity has been unbelievable. Anthony Joshua was messaging me late at night, talking about my physical and mental health. I had messages from Tyson Fury. Eddie Hearn [at Matchroom] was one of the first people to visit me in hospital, Ben [Shalom at Boxxer] came to see me. I had messages from other promoters like the Sauerlands, the Warrens, and so many fighters.”
Smith built those connections in a Sky career that began with a junior production role in the mid-90s, with Smith beginning to do voiceover work before calling fights involving the likes of Floyd Mayweather, Oscar De La Hoya, Roy Jones Jr, Lennox Lewis, “Prince” Naseem Hamed, Chris Eubank and Ricky Hatton. Eventually Smith became Sky’s Head of Boxing, allowing him the chance to mentor fighters, and with the development of the women’s side of the sport proving a key drive.
Now, that element of his work has been renewed. Smith was asked to join the management company Summit Sports and boxing promotion GBM Sports, both of whom he works for in a directorial and advisory capacity. Smith says he wants to be there for athletes on “rainy days”, noting that “from a mental-health point of view, boxing in particular is a really, really hard career. You can get injured, lose fights, lose a fanbase, fall out of favour with promoters.
“All our fighters at Summit are unbeaten so far, but someday they won’t be. I remember AJ coming to my house years ago, he sat with my kids doing their homework, and he must’ve been 14-0. I said: ‘What are you gonna do when you lose?’ He said (Smith employs those old acting skills to portray an indignant Joshua): ‘What? I’m not gonna lose.’ I said: ‘You will lose, but that’s OK, everyone loses! But let’s put it another way: What will you do after boxing?’ And he did lose, but losing makes you! The comeback is a bigger story.”
Smith is living his own comeback story. This year, alongside his work at Summit and GBM, Smith has broadcast on radio for Talksport and the BBC – fulfilling a lifelong dream. And in new endeavours, he has provided mixed martial arts commentary for the PFL – a challenge he enjoys in the same manner as some of his past darts commentary at Sky – and launched a boxing podcast on Lounges.tv.
More than 40 years after turning down the volume on his TV to provide his own calls on tennis, Formula One, Liverpool games and the Grand National, Smith is still soundtracking definitive sporting moments.
“I’ve been given a second chance at life,” he says. “Whether I’m here for another 30 years or just today, I’m a very lucky boy. And with work now, I’m calmer; it’s not life or death – I’ve been there.”
