Caitlin Clark is Everything Wrong with America

I should be in my hotel’s gym right now, but the algorithm showed me a video of WNBA “star” Caitlin Clark elbowing three-time FIBA gold medalist Rhyne Howard, and once again, I must write. Clark’s elbow was blatant. The flat-chested Clark is athletic for a white heterosexual female, but above-average when defended by an experienced, rangy African-American. In this case, Clark had no answer for Ms. Howard’s strong defense and decided to elbow her in the kidney rather than passing the ball or requesting a pick.

Clark got the foul call. Days earlier, against the WNBA’s leading rebounder, Angel Reese, Clark missed her defensive assignment and intentionally hacked Reese from behind. As Reese stood up, Clark turned her back and calmly walked away, knowing the system—aka the referees—would protect her. Without discussing the curious number of videos showing Ms. Reese missing layups rather than catching rebounds, problems go beyond entitlement.

First, the reason the algorithm showed me the elbow is because the WNBA’s advertising dollars prioritize conflict and salacious news to gain attention. It’s the sports version of President Trump’s meeting with South African President Matamela Cyril Ramaphosa, in which the white Trump had the audacity to accuse a black South African of “genocide.” Trump was able to do so because his marketing team influences algorithms and reduces your chances of seeing President Ramaphosa’s dignified response, in which he appeared more presidential than Trump. For Clark, similar tactics have made her an “angel” while demonizing African-American women who dare play defense against her. Given America’s history and African-Americans’ contributions to sports, particularly basketball, I cannot imagine a more tone-deaf publicity campaign. What are WNBA executives thinking, other than the bottom line?  Even if strictly business, such an approach ought to raise scruples. I don’t recall Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar being used in such a manner, and I don’t think their coaches or agents would have allowed it. 

Second, Clark is a curious choice for any league’s face. She’s objectively unattractive. Meanwhile, Satau Sabally, Natasha Cloud, and Kamilla Cardoso are more obvious nominees for a publicity blitz.  Furthermore, Clark exhibits signs of acromegaly, indicating possible prior HGH use. According to the Mayo Clinic, too “much growth hormone causes many symptoms of acromegaly,” and changes include a "jutting brow or jaw” as well as “enlarged hands.” Other professional basketball players are likely to have taken HGH, including Dennis Rodman. I won’t say more about drug use in sports, except to say perhaps the WNBA is more aligned with the NBA than we think.

Third, it’s true other famous people have benefited from positive-only publicity, including the Beatles, whose cavalier attitudes to sex would have shocked their young fans. Yet, in Clark’s case, giving her the benefit of the doubt feels wrong. In an interview with David Letterman, she was polished, except for one part: she revealed her father built a basketball court in their house. This privilege, available only to a select few children in America, didn’t cause embarrassment in Clark, but matter-of-factness. 

I mentioned the Beatles above. All of them were lower class, and Ringo Starr lived in an area so violent, he kept his head down to survive. Michael Jordan and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar were middle class, and Larry Bird and Jerry West, like the Beatles, were lower-class. When you see Bird or McCartney play, you see men who have overcome their economic circumstances through hard work and succeeded in fields dominated by other races. You see men worthy of admiration, despite their faults. 

“All I wanted [when I was younger] was women, money, and clothes.” — Paul McCartney (from John McMillian’s book, Beatles vs. Stones) 

In Clark, I see arrogance and entitlement shielded by a smooth tongue and an online army. There are better people to emulate. Until the WNBA moves away from its soft white supremacy, I won’t be watching—except to cheer on the defiant Angel Reese, who reminds me of my favorite NBA player, Dennis Rodman. Crash the boards, and don’t mind the bollocks, Ms. Reese. Real basketball fans see you. 

© Matthew Mehdi Rafat (May 2025)