It was a moment of stunningly “awkward” television. During a live ESPN broadcast, analyst Monica McNutt took aim at the Caitlin Clark phenomenon. She argued that the media and fans needed to acknowledge the other players, the women who had been “building this league,” and that players “far more talented” than Clark never got this recognition.

It was, on the surface, a plea for balanced coverage. But to the thousands of fans watching, it “ended up backfiring.” The “backlash online was immediate,” with viewers calling McNutt “dismissive and bitter.” This single, tense exchange was not an isolated incident; it was the most visible symptom of a season-long “agenda” within the sports media, a strange and “reluctant” campaign to undermine the WNBA’s biggest star.

But the agenda failed. It failed because it ran head-first into the undeniable, record-shattering truth of Caitlin Clark’s talent. This is the story of how one 23-year-old rookie, without “clapping back” or “chasing headlines,” silenced her harshest critics with nothing but her game, forcing a reluctant media establishment to “walk back” its own narrative.

From the moment Clark was drafted, a media-driven civil war was declared. The narrative was simple: it couldn’t just be “The Caitlin Clark Show.” A rival was needed, and Angel Reese, with her own charisma and championship pedigree, was cast in the role. Media personalities like Monica McNutt quickly and “firmly” stood in Reese’s corner for the Rookie of the Year debate.

McNutt’s reasoning was that Reese’s team, the Chicago Sky, had a better record, and that “team success should matter just as much as personal stats.” It seemed like a fair argument, but it ignored the context. It also ignored the way Reese herself was “cashing in” on the rivalry, mocking Clark after the national title game and “standing up applauding” when Clark was knocked to the floor. The media didn’t just report on a rivalry; it appeared to choose a side.

But the anti-Clark “agenda” wasn’t just about propping up a rival. On ESPN, it manifested in two distinct ways: overt criticism and deliberate avoidance.

McNutt represented the overt. She argued that Clark’s popularity was unearned, a slight to the veterans. On another panel, ESPN’s Molly Qerim demonstrated the more “disingenuous” tactic: avoidance.

Fans began to notice a “pattern.” Any time Clark’s historic achievements were brought up, Qerim would “quickly pivot” to talk about someone else. The most glaring example came after Clark “shattered Alyssa Thomas’ assist record”—a monumental, historic moment. Instead of focusing on the magnitude of the achievement, Qerim “quickly shifted the conversation” to other players. To viewers, it was a “forced transition,” a “deliberate” attempt to “downplay the very player who was doing the most to grow the league’s audience.”

The media seemed intent on framing the narrative as “The League vs. Caitlin Clark,” a narrative the video’s commentary calls “absolutely false.” The league, the players, and the fans could see what was happening. The only ones who seemed “reluctant” to admit it were the analysts on the debate panels.

But as the season wore on, the “narrative started to crumble.” It crumbled because Caitlin Clark just kept playing.

She didn’t engage with the “haters.” She just rewrote the “record books like it’s routine.” The “poise and focus” she maintained turned the “criticism into motivation.” And her performance was not just individually brilliant; it was transformative.

This is the part of the story that forced the “agenda” to collapse. Clark’s Indiana Fever, a team that “once seemed lost,” began “competing and winning.” She single-handedly “turned a struggling Indiana Fever team into a playoff contender.” The argument that Reese deserved the crown because her team had more wins evaporated. Clark, the “overhyped” rookie, was now leading her team to success while putting up historic numbers.

This led to the “walk back.” Monica McNutt, who had been so firm in her early-season stance, “eventually found herself walking back her earlier comments.” On a later broadcast, she was forced to admit that Clark had proven herself to be “one of the best players in the entire league.”

But the “agenda” didn’t die easily. Even as McNutt gave Clark her “flowers,” she “couldn’t help but throw in a few subtle jabs,” emphasizing that she “wasn’t surprised” and that other women were still “worthy of coverage.” It was a “reluctant” admission, a forced surrender. As the video notes, “she made sure not to hand over the entire bouquet.”

This very reluctance, however, only proved the fans’ point. The bias had been real, and it was only being abandoned because Clark’s dominance had made it impossible to maintain.

The 2024 season will be remembered for what it was: the complete “reshaping” of women’s basketball, all driven by one rookie. But it will also be remembered as the season a media establishment was exposed. The “hate” and “avoidance” from certain analysts didn’t “balance” the conversation; it just made them look foolish.

The fans, who “flooded social media” in Clark’s defense, had been right all along. This wasn’t “media favoritism” run amok; it was a generational talent demanding to be seen. Caitlin Clark’s greatest rookie achievement wasn’t just breaking records; it was breaking the “agenda” of her “harshest detractors” and forcing them, finally, to admit the truth.