The sound of boxing beating cancer in the fight of his life

“I looked at myself in the mirror. I had nothing. I just didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I knew I had to because I have three kids, but I just didn’t know how.” As Adam Smith speaks, I can see embryonic tears clinging to his eyeballs, which are not meant to drip over his lower eyelid dam. To be honest, I’m looking through the same type of tears on my desk.

It’s strange to hear the sound of boxing piercing the background noise of a west London cafe, not the background noise of a sold-out arena. On an early autumn morning in Acton, Smith speaks of the occasional whir of a milk steamer and the clink of cups and plates rather than the dull punching and drunken roar of a pack of boxers. But here he is. No microphone, no headphones: raw and unfiltered.

It’s no surprise that Smith knows his way around a story. Over the course of our 90-plus minute chat, he tells story after story of his three decades in the Sky Sports ring, dropping legendary name after legendary name (but never boastfully). He does it as smoothly and enthusiastically as if he were at work, and when he reveals that he studied theater and performing arts at university, it makes sense that he speaks like a voice actor: not so much emphasizing words with movements, but rather drawing. those words out of his mouth on the move. Now and then he raises his eyebrows to pick out a single word as if it were attached to a string, then swings it across the table with an outstretched hand.

But when Smith reaches his most compelling story—his own—he takes his first real break of the day and is finally forced to search for the right words. Those excitedly raised eyebrows are replaced by worried frowns as he recalls his harrowing cancer experience over the past two years.

“Yeah, I… errr… It… It was a brutal time,” the 53-year-old finally manages. “I’m very, very lucky to be here today. I didn’t feel good physically or mentally, something was wrong,” he continues, reflecting on the start of 2023. “Eventually I found blood in my urine. It was random, but I knew people who had prostate cancer , so I followed it until it got worse and worse.”

Smith, who had never taken a sick day at Sky in 29 years and can’t remember a sick day from his school days, eventually went to the doctor and was given antibiotics for a suspected urinary tract infection. Antibiotics had little or no effect, and Smith continued to feel tired every day.

“Someone said to me, ‘You look like you’ve lost weight,’ and I thought, ‘I have cancer.'” “Yes,” Smith confirms. “I don’t know what [that made me think that]. I went back to the hospital and they said my kidney count was low, my white blood cells were all over the place. They said it was one of three things: a urinary tract infection, gallstones, or bladder cancer.

“The NHS put me on a very fast track programme. I had a CT scan and then got a call almost immediately. I went back in and knew it was serious. The urologist told me I needed a nephrostomy [a tube inserted into the kidney] and biopsy. He showed me the screen and said, “This is one of the largest tumors we’ve seen in the bladder, and it’s very close to the bladder wall.” My kidney had failed, so I had about four days until the nephrostomy or I wouldn’t make it. I had it in two hours and the biopsy the next day.

It’s hard to imagine, but the bad news was about to get worse for Smith.

“After that I was on the ward. I remember eight urologists in purple suits came in, closed the curtain and one said, ‘Adam, I know you’ve been through the factory the last few weeks, but we have some very serious news.’ I thought they were going to tell me, that I’m dead I thought I’d have six weeks or something.

“They said I had invasive, aggressive bladder cancer, and it’s breaking through the muscle wall. “You have to have emergency surgery, bladder out, prostate out, and a scrotum—a stoma for the rest of your life. And we need to see if the cancer has spread. I had a six-hour operation to remove 19 lymph nodes. Fortunately, the cancer had not spread, but I needed three months of chemotherapy and to learn how the stoma works. I ended up having over 150 blood tests and spent three and a half months in four different hospitals – two NHS, two private.

Over the past two years, Smith has been through a wringer. The outcry over his sudden absence from Sky shows in 2023 was a testament to his constant presence over the past 30 years, and they only died down late last year when he made the shock announcement that he had cancer – but was now mercifully cancer free. The news was accompanied by a statement about his departure from Sky, a team he still holds in high esteem, and his first appearance on a boxing show in a year came in Katie Taylor’s rematch with Chantelle Cameron in Dublin in November.

Nine months later, it’s great to see him walk through the door looking good and to hear that trademark voice – always confident and often commanding – again. But it’s not quite that simple.

“I look healthy, but underneath is a wrecked body,” Smith admits. “I’ve lost a lot 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 last spring, after the operation, I got ileus: my whole body was blocked, food didn’t go through for 10 days .I lost four stone, then I had a twisted gut. I was messed up, 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 take it. But my family was amazing, Sky was amazing. I still had many, many lonely nights, but I owe it all to my doctors. I saw my bladder consultant at the end of last year and said, “I have to be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it.” He said, “I have 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 out at food banks and homeless charities.

“I go to the food bank and see people in wheelchairs happy to receive a can of sweet corn and fresh vegetables, and I think how lucky and privileged I’ve been in my life,” she says. “I’ll probably never be 100 percent again, but my weight has gone up, I’m walking a lot, I picked up a tennis racket. And my three children have a father. 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 eludes Smith.

“I make sure that I am as present as possible with the family now. And I want to thank the boxing world. It can be a sour place, but the boxing fraternity has been incredible. Anthony Joshua messaged me late at night and talked about my physical and mental health. I got messages from Tyson Fury. Eddie Hearn [at Matchroom] was one of the first people to visit me in the hospital, Ben [Shalom at Boxxer] came to see me. I got messages from other promoters like Sauerlands, Warren and so many fighters.”

Smith made those connections during a Sky career that began in a junior production role in the mid-90s, when Smith began doing voiceover work before calling fights involving the likes of Floyd Mayweather, Oscar De La Hoya, Roy Jones Jr, Lennox Lewis, “The Prince” Naseem Hamed, Chris Eubank and Ricky Hatton. Smith eventually became Sky’s head of boxing, allowing her to mentor fighters, and the development of the women’s side of the sport proved pivotal.

Now that part of his work has been renewed. Smith was asked to join management company Summit Sports and boxing promotion GBM Sports, both of which he serves as a director and advisor. Smith says he wants to be around the athletes on “rainy days,” noting that “from a mental health standpoint, boxing in particular is a really, really tough career. You can get injured, lose fights, lose fans, fall out of favor with promoters.

“All of our fighters at Summit are undefeated right now, but one day they won’t be. I remember AJ coming over to my house years ago, sitting with my kids doing homework, and he must have been 14-0. I said, “What are you going to do when you lose?” He said (Smith using those old acting skills to play an angry Joshua): ‘What? I’m not going to lose.’ I said, ‘You’re going to lose, but that’s okay, everybody loses! But let’s put it another way: what are you going to do after boxing? And he lost, but losing makes you! The return is a bigger story.”

Smith is living his own comeback story. This year, alongside his Summit and GBM work, Smith has been broadcasting for Talksport and the BBC – fulfilling a lifelong dream. And in new endeavors, he has commented on mixed martial arts for the PFL – a challenge he relishes as much as some of his previous javelin commentary on Sky – and launched a boxing podcast on Lounges.tv.

More than 40 years after he turned down the volume on his TV to play his own tunes from tennis, Formula 1, Liverpool games and the Grand National, Smith continues to soundtrack the ultimate 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 now with work I am calmer; it’s not life or death – I’ve been there.”