The landscape of women’s basketball has dramatically shifted in the past year, driven in large part by two rising stars: Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese. While Clark has swiftly become the face of the WNBA and the most marketable player the league has ever seen, Reese, who entered the league with her own formidable reputation, has found herself increasingly frustrated by the overwhelming focus on Clark. Her success, in her eyes, is not just about Clark; it’s about a larger, collective surge in the visibility of women’s basketball, and she’s not ready to let Clark take all the credit.
Caitlin Clark’s impact on the WNBA was immediate and undeniable. Her arrival turned preseason games into high-profile events, and soon, every arena she entered became a spectacle. When Clark’s game for the Indiana Fever against Brazil’s national team went on sale, tickets were gone in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t just the best seats that sold out quickly—tickets were being snapped up by fans willing to spend up to $4,400 just to watch the rookie take the court in a preseason match. To say this was unprecedented would be an understatement.
Meanwhile, Angel Reese, a powerhouse player in her own right, watched as Clark’s rise overshadowed everything. While Reese had been part of a championship-winning LSU team, a polarizing figure who had built her own loyal fanbase, she couldn’t help but feel slighted. She knew that her own contributions to the surge in popularity of women’s basketball were significant, but it often felt as though Clark’s success was being held up as the only reason for the league’s newfound attention.
Reese had always been a standout player—dominant in the paint and electrifying on offense. Her fierce personality, trash talk, and confidence had captivated fans, and she brought an energy to the court that fans couldn’t get enough of. But despite all her talent and marketability, Reese found herself in the shadow of Clark’s superstar status. Every time she took the floor, it seemed like it was Clark who stole the spotlight, and it wasn’t just on the court. When it came to ticket sales, merchandise, and endorsements, Reese couldn’t help but notice that Clark’s name was everywhere while her own was often pushed aside.
Reese’s frustration grew as the league celebrated the success of Clark’s sellouts, particularly as her own games failed to achieve similar levels of hype. She wasn’t alone in her frustration. Other WNBA players, especially those in the rookie class, felt similarly overlooked. Many believed that the surge in ticket sales, higher TV ratings, and the massive endorsement deals weren’t solely the result of Clark’s talents, but rather the collective impact of a new wave of stars, including Reese.
As Clark sold out stadiums and drew millions of viewers to her games, Reese’s supporters argued that her contributions should not be minimized. After all, she had been an instrumental part of the WNBA’s rise. Her social media presence was massive, and her unapologetic personality made her one of the most talked-about players in the league. She had her own endorsement deals, her own cult-like following, and a playing style that made her just as electrifying as Clark. Yet, as much as Reese’s influence couldn’t be denied, the focus on Clark’s meteoric rise was undeniable.
The debate over who was most responsible for the WNBA’s newfound success wasn’t just about ticket sales or endorsement deals—it was about the future of the league. The league was at a crossroads, and the identity of the WNBA was in flux. Was it going to be defined by Caitlin Clark and her marketability? Or would the collective energy of the rookies, including Reese, define the future of women’s basketball?
The rivalry between Reese and Clark was more than just about basketball. It was about respect. It was about who would shape the league moving forward, who would carry the torch for future generations, and who would emerge as the face of women’s basketball in the years to come. Reese, ever the competitor, wasn’t about to let Clark’s dominance go unchallenged. She was ready to fight for her place in the league’s history.
While Reese acknowledged Clark’s greatness, she made it clear that the rise of women’s basketball wasn’t just because of one player. “I’ll take the bad guy role,” she said. “But I know I’ve grown women’s basketball. I know I’ve inspired people.” Her words were a challenge to anyone who tried to dismiss her contributions to the sport. Reese knew her impact went beyond the basketball court—she was one of the faces of the movement to make women’s sports mainstream. And yet, despite her undeniable contributions, it was Clark’s name that was consistently being put front and center.
This didn’t sit well with Reese. She had been a force of nature on the court, but when it came to financial success and recognition, Clark’s name was on everyone’s lips. Reese was quick to remind people that her games were also selling out. She pointed to the media coverage of her rivalry with Clark, emphasizing how every matchup between the two had become must-watch TV. Fans were tuning in to see the two stars face off, and ticket prices surged every time the two played against each other. Yet, as Clark’s popularity grew, Reese couldn’t help but feel like her own efforts to market women’s basketball were being overlooked.
“I’m not mad at Caitlyn,” Reese explained. “I love the way she plays. I think she’s a great player. But it’s not just about one person. It’s about the whole team, the whole league, and the whole movement.”
And she was right. The WNBA’s explosion in popularity was the result of a collective effort. The rookie class of 2024 had come into the league with their own brand of excitement. They had brought a fresh energy, and their on-court performances had captivated fans. Whether it was Clark’s dazzling shooting or Reese’s powerful presence in the paint, the league was benefiting from the contributions of several rising stars. But it was clear that, for Reese, the overwhelming focus on Clark was frustrating. She knew her own influence had been just as important.
The numbers supported her claim. While Clark was undoubtedly a major draw for fans and the media, Reese’s presence was equally valuable. She was one of the most polarizing players in the league, and that meant more people were tuning in to watch her play. Her social media following was massive, and her impact on the game was undeniable. It wasn’t just Clark who was changing the landscape of women’s basketball—it was the entire new wave of talent that had arrived on the scene.
In the end, the debate over who was responsible for the WNBA’s explosion of popularity wasn’t an easy one to answer. Both Clark and Reese had played crucial roles in the league’s growth. It wasn’t just about ticket sales or merchandise—it was about the larger cultural impact they were both having on the sport. The WNBA was no longer a niche league. It was a force to be reckoned with, and both Clark and Reese were leading the charge.
Reese’s frustration with the overwhelming focus on Clark was understandable. But at the same time, she knew the power of competition, the power of rivalry, and the power of being part of a movement. In the end, women’s basketball was growing—not just because of one player, but because of a generation of athletes, including both Reese and Clark, who were changing the game for good.
