Stephen A. Smith Blasts Abdul Carter Over Lawrence Taylor’s No. 56 Request
Imagine being a rookie in New York and causing a stir before you even hit the field. That's exactly what happened when Abdul Carter, fresh out of college, reportedly asked to wear the Giants’ most sacred number—56. If you know football, you know that number belongs to Lawrence Taylor, an NFL legend whose game-changing style basically redefined what it meant to play linebacker.
Carter, who made a name for himself at Penn State wearing No. 11, took his shot anyway. The Giants, however, retired Taylor’s number long ago, sealing his legacy with it, and for good reason. Taylor wasn’t just good—he was game-transforming, earning two Super Bowl rings, multiple Defensive Player of the Year awards, and cementing himself as a Hall of Famer.
Lawrence Taylor didn’t go nuclear over Carter’s ask, but he wasn’t about to bend, either. His response? Firm but cool: “I know he’d love to wear that number, but it’s retired. Get another number—I don’t care if it’s double zero—and then make it famous.” Coming from a player of Taylor’s stature, that’s basically a velvet-rope moment: ‘Respect what I built before you ask to join the party.’
Why the Backlash Came Fast and Loud
Stephen A. Smith didn’t mince words on ESPN’s First Take. He was blunt, labeling Carter’s request as ‘shameful’ and even calling him ‘the most ignorant draft pick in history.’ That’s classic Stephen A.—never subtle when it comes to sports culture and tradition. His main point was simple: a rookie hasn’t done a single thing in the league yet shouldn’t be asking for a number that means everything to a franchise and its fanbase.
It’s not just about numbers on a jersey. Retired numbers in football are more than collectibles—they’re a club for legends. Asking for one is like asking for someone’s seat at the dinner table without an invitation. Smith, like many fans and sports insiders, sees it as a lack of awareness and respect.
This incident sparks a bigger debate. There’s been a wave of younger athletes wanting to wear legendary numbers in both college and pro sports, probably thinking they can live up to, or even surpass, the legacy. Sometimes, a team gives in. But more often, as in this case, the answer is a tough ‘No.’ Teams want their legends remembered—not replaced.
For Carter, the situation isn’t totally damning. He didn’t mean to offend, but it’s a lesson in reading the room. Rookies are always under pressure—not just to perform but to understand the culture they’re entering. Whether Carter becomes a star in New York will depend on how he handles moments like this and proves himself on the field—wearing whatever number he ends up with.