THEY WENT AFTER THE WRONG STAR: The Real Reason Caitlin Clark Keeps Getting Targeted—and Why Her Teammate Finally Snapped

Caitlin Clark didn’t say a word.

Not when the elbows started flying.
Not when her name slipped down the All-Star charts.
Not when she was poked in the eye, shoved to the floor, and fined by silence more than any official ever dared fine the ones hitting her.

She didn’t lash out.
She didn’t call a press conference.
She just kept showing up—eyes forward, shoulders back, ponytail tight.

But someone else had finally seen enough.

It wasn’t a coach.
It wasn’t the league.

It was her teammate. Her protector. Her enforcer.

And when Sophie Cunningham stood up—both literally and figuratively—it lit a fire in the hearts of fans, commentators, and athletes far beyond the WNBA hardwood.

This is the real story of what’s happening to Caitlin Clark.
And why the person who took a stand for her may have changed the league forever.

Let’s back up for a second. We all know what Caitlin Clark did to women’s basketball.

She didn’t just break records—she blew the doors off.
She didn’t just bring in fans—she changed the conversation.
The Caitlin Clark Effect is now shorthand for one of the most explosive growth moments in professional sports history.

Ticket sales soared.
TV ratings broke barriers.
Merchandise flew off the shelves.

Entire game schedules were reworked just to accommodate her draw.
Arenas that sat half-empty a year ago were suddenly packed with screaming fans—many of them young girls, wide-eyed, wearing number 22 jerseys, finally seeing themselves on a national stage.

But fame, as we know, isn’t free.

And in Caitlin Clark’s case, it’s come at a cost few truly anticipated.

From Praise to Punishment

The numbers are staggering.

Clark, a rookie, led the WNBA in viewership spikes, merchandise sales, and online engagement.
She wasn’t just playing well—she was elevating the entire brand.

And yet, when All-Star voting came around, something didn’t add up.

Despite shattering expectations and nearly averaging a double-double, she was ranked ninth among WNBA guards by her peers—and left off the starting roster entirely.

Fans were stunned. Media outlets tried to spin it as rookie growing pains. But for those watching closely, the message was unmistakable:

This wasn’t about performance.
It was about resentment.

What should have been a celebration of her game was instead a referendum on her fame.

And that wasn’t just happening off the court.

A Target in Plain Sight

Game after game, Clark was getting battered.

And not in the normal, high-contact way basketball players expect.
This was targeted. Intentional. Relentless.

In just the first ten games of her rookie season, Chicago Sky’s Chennedy Carter blind-sided her on an inbound play, sending her tumbling to the hardwood. Carter’s teammates? Laughing. High-fiving. Celebrating like they’d just won a championship.

Then came the game against the Connecticut Sun.
Multiple elbows.
A poke to the eye by Jacy Sheldon.
A full-on body shove to the ground by Marina Mabrey.

No whistle.
No flagrant.
No protection.

Clark didn’t cry foul. She didn’t run to the press.

She just kept playing.

But someone else couldn’t take it anymore.

Sophie Steps Up

Sophie Cunningham isn’t just any player.
She’s tough. Scrappy. Veteran enough to know how the game is played—both physically and politically.

But when she saw her teammate get shoved, jabbed, and disrespected one time too many, something snapped.

In what quickly became the most talked-about moment of the season, Cunningham delivered a hard foul to Jacy Sheldon—the same player who had poked Clark in the eye.

Whether it was hair-pulling or just a hard grab, it got the message across.

Enough is enough.

The refs wasted no time ejecting Cunningham. The league slapped her with a fine.

But fans?
They rallied.

Sophie’s jersey sold out.
Her TikTok exploded past a million followers overnight.
NFL star AJ Dillon even called her “his new favorite player,” comparing her to an offensive lineman protecting his quarterback.

In a league where silence had reigned for too long, Sophie Cunningham had just changed the narrative.

And she did it without apology.

“This Has Been Building for Years”

After the game, Cunningham didn’t dodge the spotlight.

“It was a buildup for a couple years now of them just not protecting the star player of the WNBA,” she said.

A quiet indictment of the league.
A bold defense of a teammate.

And a statement that resonated far beyond sports:

This wasn’t about a foul.
It was about principle.

Because as Clark’s story unfolded on the court, another narrative was emerging off of it—a deeper one.

The Psychology of Bullying in the Spotlight

Dr. Phil said it best in his post-game analysis: “This goes beyond sports. This is about bullying.”

And he’s right.

Because what’s happening to Clark mirrors a much larger problem—one that shows up in classrooms, boardrooms, and social media feeds.

Jealousy doesn’t always look like sabotage.
Sometimes it looks like silence.
Like shrugging when someone gets elbowed.
Like ranking them ninth when you know they’re top three.
Like standing on the sideline, watching it happen, and doing nothing.

That’s what makes Cunningham’s stand so important.

She wasn’t just defending Clark.
She was exposing a culture.

Are You a Bystander or an Upstander?

Dr. Phil laid out the types.

The followers—who jump in once the damage starts.
The supporters—who say nothing and let it happen.
The defenders—who try to get help, often quietly.
And the ones who walk away, pretending it doesn’t exist.

But then there’s a fifth kind.

The upstander.

The person who steps in. Loudly, if needed.
Who takes the hit so someone else doesn’t have to.

That’s who Sophie Cunningham chose to be.

And in doing so, she gave fans, teammates, and perhaps even league officials a mirror they weren’t ready to look into.

Clark’s Silence Is Not Weakness

The most telling part?
Caitlin Clark still hasn’t lashed out.

No scathing tweets.
No post-game rants.
No “poor me” interviews.

Instead, she shrugs and says things like:
“I grew up with two brothers—there was a lot of blood, a lot of tears.”
“I played with boys. You find a way to hold your own.”

That doesn’t make what’s happening okay.

But it makes her strength undeniable.

Because while others shove, poke, and plot, Caitlin Clark just keeps doing the one thing that truly terrifies her critics:

Winning the crowd.

The Real Power Is the One Who Stands Up

This is a moment for the WNBA.

Not just to protect Caitlin Clark.
But to decide what kind of league it wants to be.

One where jealousy punishes greatness?
Or one where teammates rise—not just to score, but to shield.

Sophie Cunningham didn’t throw a punch.
She threw down a line.

A line that said: If the refs won’t step in, I will.
If the league won’t act, we will.
If no one else will say it, I will.

And maybe that’s what real leadership looks like.

Not wearing a “C” on your jersey, but taking the fall so the next generation doesn’t have to.

Because in the end, the loudest moment wasn’t the shove, the fine, or the viral clip.

It was the silence that followed.

The crowd didn’t boo.
They stood.
They cheered.
They remembered.

And so will we.