Angel Reese had always been told she was a star. On the court, she moved with the confidence of someone who’d already seen the highlight reel. Her TikTok feed was a parade of fashion moments, locker room dances, and the kind of glam that made brands line up for a partnership. In Baton Rouge, she was Bayou royalty, the face of a championship, the queen of the court. So when the Chicago Sky scheduled a preseason game at LSU, Angel’s alma mater, she expected a hero’s welcome.
She imagined the stands packed to the rafters, purple and gold everywhere, fans chanting her name, old teammates and new rivals alike watching as she strutted down the tunnel. She pictured the red carpet, the cameras, maybe even a little confetti. After all, this was Angel Reese’s homecoming.
But as she walked into the PMAC that night, her sneakers echoing on the polished floor, something felt off. The arena was quiet—too quiet. She glanced up, expecting to see a sea of faces, but the upper bowl was dark, the seats empty. Even the lower bowl, usually a cauldron of sound, was speckled with empty chairs. She checked her phone, scrolling through messages from friends promising to be there, but the crowd just wasn’t.
The game tipped off, and Angel played well—her footwork crisp, her rebounds strong, her energy undimmed. But every time she glanced at the stands, the reality stung. There were pockets of fans, a few familiar faces, but the roar she remembered from her college days was gone. The scoreboard flickered, but the real story was in the seats.
Across the country, meanwhile, a different story was unfolding. Caitlin Clark—basketball’s new phenomenon—was making her WNBA preseason debut back in Iowa. The Carver-Hawkeye Arena was bursting at the seams. Fans had camped out for days, tickets were reselling for $670, and the line to get in wrapped around the building. It wasn’t just a game—it was an event, a pilgrimage, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see greatness up close.
Inside, the energy was electric. The crowd was a cross-section of America—families, teens, little girls with homemade signs, grown men in vintage jerseys. The air vibrated with anticipation. When Caitlin jogged onto the court, the place erupted. She hadn’t even taken a shot, and already the arena felt like the Final Four.
Angel’s game, by contrast, felt like a dress rehearsal for a show nobody had auditioned for. The Sky had brought not just Angel, but also Haley Van Lith—another LSU favorite. Yet, together, they drew just 6,373 fans to an arena built for twice that. The tickets were cheap, the concessions cheaper, but the empty seats were impossible to ignore.
A fan tried to start a wave. It fizzled after one lonely arm stretch. The popcorn machine in the back was louder than the cheers. Even the halftime show seemed to sigh.
Online, the contrast became a meme. “Angel Reese tried to throw a party and forgot to invite the crowd,” one post joked. “Caitlin Clark sneezes, and Iowa builds a stadium around the tissue,” said another. The numbers told the story: 14,998 fans for Clark, a sellout. Barely half that for Reese, and the upper bowl wasn’t even open.
Angel tried to shake it off. She posed for pictures, signed autographs, flashed her signature smile. But the echo in the arena was louder than any cheer. She’d been told she was the future, the face, the influencer who’d change the game. But influence, she realized, didn’t always translate to impact. TikTok likes didn’t fill seats.
Meanwhile, in Iowa, Clark was doing what she always did: draining logo threes, dropping dimes, igniting the crowd with every move. The fans weren’t just watching—they were living every moment with her. When she lined up a deep three, thousands held their breath in unison. When it splashed through the net, the eruption shook the building.
Reporters called it the Caitlin Clark Effect. She didn’t just play basketball; she turned every game into a cultural event. ESPN aired her warmups. Kids wore her number to school. Even the ticket scalpers couldn’t keep up with demand.
Back in Baton Rouge, Angel’s friends tried to spin the story. “It’s just preseason,” they said. “It’s a bad night. LSU fans love her!” But the pictures didn’t lie. The arena was half-empty, the energy missing. The scoreboard didn’t just show points; it showed pull.
On social media, the debate raged. Was it fair? Was it about basketball, or something else? But every argument ended in the same place: when Caitlin Clark played, people showed up. Not just for the highlights, but for the hope, the spectacle, the chance to say, “I was there.”
Angel Reese finished her game, showered, and scrolled through the night’s headlines. Most were about Clark. “Sold Out Again,” read one. “The New Face of Basketball,” read another. Angel’s name popped up, but usually as a footnote, sandwiched between weather updates and celebrity gossip.
She sat in the locker room, the buzz of the fluorescent lights her only company. She thought about her journey—how far she’d come, how much she’d overcome. She was still a star, still a champion. But tonight, the stands had spoken. Potential is nice, she realized, but pull is power. Clark wasn’t just the future; she was the now.
As Angel left the arena, a handful of fans waited for autographs. She smiled, signed a few shirts, and walked into the night. She’d keep working, keep hustling, keep believing. But she knew now that greatness wasn’t just about stats or style. It was about moving people, filling arenas, changing the game.
And for now, that was Caitlin Clark’s world. The rest, including Angel, were just trying to find a seat.
“Not Best Friends”: Caitlin Clark Gets Candid on Angel Reese Rivalry Following TIME Magazine Recognition
Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark have forever been locked in the same narrative ever since that fateful NCAA Finals moment in 2023. Reese’s LSU won after the whole country had been rooting for Clark’s Iowa and the rivalry, at least in fans’ minds, was born. Never mind that these two had been competing against each other for a very long time, since high school to be precise. Now, the Indiana Fever point guard, who recently became the Time Athlete of the Year, is making it clear what is really the relationship between the two.
Previously, Reese has opened up about Clark on her podcast, Unapologetically Angel and revealed how she respects her former college rival. She also expressed a wish to play on the same team as her one day.
And while CC did not reiterate quite the same sentiment, she did say of the media pitting them against each other in a latest exclusive with TIME magazine, “I don’t get that at all. We’re not best friends, by any means, but we’re very respectful of one another. Yes, we have had tremendous battles. But when have I ever guarded her? And when has she guarded me?”
The rivalry has left some confused, given the two don’t play the same positions and have never had the opportunity to guard each other in a 1v1 chance. Rivalries are important for sports to flourish, no doubt, but many feel they should be equal in terms of positions where stats can at least be compared.
How does one contrast No. 22’s offense with her seemingly endless three-pointers and almost invisible passes with the Chi-Town Barbie‘s ability to get rebounds like nobody’s business?
Nevertheless, when it was clear that the Lady Tigers were going to win against the Hawkeyes in the 2023 NCAA Final, and Reese made that ring finger and ‘You can’t see me’ gesture, their fate was sealed.
Regarding that, the Iowa sensation said, “I didn’t think it was taunting. It really didn’t bother me. It’s just like, ‘Why don’t you talk about them winning? Or the incredible run that we went on that nobody would have thought we would have ever gone on?’ The only thing people cared about was this controversy that was really fabricated and made up, and then that has continued to be the case ever since.”
It was indeed a brilliant victory for LSU and a hard defeat for Iowa because no one saw it coming. Then they did it again the next year, even if the South Carolina Gamecocks eventually felled them. Nevertheless, some got their revenge when UoI defeated LSU in the Elite Eight, stopping their championship run. And that rivalry between teams of the two players continued in the W. But Clark does not believe Reese is personally involved in inciting fans against her.
Caitlin Clark answers million-dollar question about Angel Reese’s teammate Chennedy Carter’s flagrant foul
Reese’s Chicago Sky teammate, Chennedy Carter bodily pushing Caitlin Clark to the ground was a shocking moment, not because it’s not seen in sports but because it seemed to be happening to the Fever guard all too often.
In fact, 17% of the total flagrant fouls made in the 2024 season were against the reigning ROTY. Moreover, 80% of these were only from the Sky team. While some said that Reese had been cheering her teammate on at the moment, the Fever guard refused to believe it.
“I don’t even know if she really knew what happened. Honestly, I don’t think she was cheering because somebody hit me. I really don’t think that would be the case. I hope not.” It was one move in a series of plays and fouls seemingly made against Clark on purpose. The reason – jealousy at her newfound fame being a rookie when veterans had not received the same treatment from fans? Who knows?
Clark, at any cost, does not believe anyone else has a vendetta against her. “I never thought I was being targeted,” she told TIME. “Obviously, that shouldn’t ever happen within a game. But basketball is physical. Your emotions can get the best of you. My emotions have gotten the best of me many times.”
The Des Moines native is of course known for her trash talking but then, who in the competitive sports arena at the highest level isn’t? The point being, from both the players’ sides in this “fabricated” rivalry as per Rachel DeMita, there is nothing but respect and maybe a smidge of competitive spirit!
