Paul Finebaum’s Senate Bid: Why the ‘Voice of the South’ Walked Away from Politics and What Comes Next

Paul Finebaum: At the Crossroads of Sports and Politics

Paul Finebaum never set out to become a political headline. But for four surreal months in 2025, his name was whispered from SEC tailgates to Alabama’s political backrooms as a possible contender for the U.S. Senate. The man who built his career as the “mouth of the South” found himself at the heart of an “only-in-Alabama” story—one that ultimately led him to turn away from politics, reaffirm his commitment to sports media, and ponder what comes next at age 70.

How Finebaum Became an Unlikely Senate Prospect

Finebaum’s foray into politics wasn’t the result of long-term ambition. Instead, it began with a joke at a CoachSafety Foundation event, where he poked fun at then-Senator Tommy Tuberville’s residency issues. The quip landed, and the next day, Finebaum received a text from a powerful Alabama political player: “Want to run for Senate?”

Surprisingly, Finebaum said yes. The offer was real. The political establishment, searching for a high-profile, relatable candidate after Tuberville left the Senate to run for governor and Bruce Pearl declined, saw potential in Finebaum’s deep connection with ordinary Alabamians. Despite having no political background, his decades as a radio host made him a household name and a trusted voice across the South (CNN).

The Appeal—and the Price—of Political Life

For Finebaum, the prospect of serving in the Senate was both exhilarating and daunting. He had a lifelong interest in politics, shaped by his mother Gloria—a fiercely opinionated Brooklynite who campaigned door-to-door for Democrats in Memphis. But as he soon discovered, being a candidate in modern America meant more than just idealism. Consultants urged him to burn bridges with ESPN, his longtime employer, and paint himself as an outsider unshackled from so-called left-leaning media. Fundraising calls and the pressure to pick a side in a toxic, polarized climate felt antithetical to the spirit of open debate he valued.

“I’m pretty aware of how convoluted the politics of today are,” Finebaum admitted. “Let me be the nine millionth person who says that the politics of today are too toxic.” For a man who had spent forty years listening to the voices of everyday fans—debating, disagreeing, but rarely descending into vitriol—the idea of campaign sloganeering and relentless partisanship was a bridge too far.

The SEC, the Show, and the Power of Civil Discourse

Through it all, Finebaum’s roots in sports media kept pulling him back. His daily show remained a chaotic, heartfelt, and sometimes absurd celebration of Southern college football culture. Callers—affectionately known as “Pawwll” fans—shared stories, jokes, and the occasional heartbreak. Finebaum’s gift wasn’t just stirring the pot; it was giving people a place to be heard. As Alabama’s athletic director Greg Byrne put it, “He is very worldly, and I don’t just mean about college football, and he says what he believes. Civil discourse is OK. And some might argue, exactly what America needs more of.”

The show’s history is dotted with memorable moments: from the infamous Harvey Updyke call that made national news to the parade of superfans and everyday people who see the Paul Finebaum Show as a community as much as a radio broadcast. Finebaum himself has always been quick to credit the callers: “It was the only show that catered specifically and only to the callers. I’ve had maybe 10 callers over the years tell me, ‘Without me, you would never have any of this.’ And they’re probably right.”

Decision Time: Why Finebaum Said No

As the college football season wore on and political consultants pressed for a decision, Finebaum wrestled with his conscience. He didn’t want to drag his wife, Linda, into the fray, nor did he want to torch a career built on honest, sometimes messy, but always genuine conversation. The final straw came, fittingly, during a Lane Kiffin press conference. Watching Kiffin waffle over job offers, Finebaum realized he was guilty of the same indecision. It was time to make a choice.

“I think it would have been nice to just parachute in for a couple of months,” he reflected. But parachuting in would mean betraying the trust and connection he’d built over four decades. He drafted his withdrawal statement while the press conference droned on. The relief was immediate. “More people have told him they are happy he said no than sorry to see him back out,” noted one longtime listener.

What’s Next for the ‘Mouth of the South’?

Finebaum’s decision to stay out of politics has left him at a crossroads. With his ESPN contract running through 2027, he remains a fixture in college football media. Yet, as he watches his wife enjoy retirement, he wonders if there is still “something else” he’s meant to do. Not necessarily instead of sports, but in addition to it—a new chapter, perhaps, in storytelling, advocacy, or another uncharted field.

For now, the SEC Championship weekend rolls on, and Finebaum returns to his element: surrounded by fans, swept up in the noise and passion of college football, waving from the stage as the Alabama band blares and Georgia fans bark. Almost like a campaign rally, but one where everyone’s invited, and the only loyalty demanded is to the game.

Paul Finebaum’s brush with politics offers a revealing snapshot of the modern American crossroads: the tension between celebrity and public service, the lure of power versus the value of authenticity. In stepping back from a Senate run, Finebaum chose the community he helped build over the divisive culture of today’s politics—a decision that underscores the enduring importance of honest conversation in public life.