The world of professional basketball, particularly the WNBA, has been a stage for a captivating and at times, tumultuous drama. The season was meant to be a celebration of a new era, a triumphant moment for a league that has long fought for mainstream recognition. That moment arrived in the form of Caitlin Clark, a transcendent talent whose arrival brought a surge of new fans, sold-out arenas, and record-breaking viewership. But beneath the surface of this historic success, a different story was unfolding—one of resistance, resentment, and a collective failure to embrace a golden opportunity. Instead of a celebration, for many, the “Caitlin Clark effect” was a “funeral,” a moment that forced the old guard to confront their own ambitions and the painful reality that they were not the ones to collectively elevate the league.

This narrative, as explored in the video, is a powerful and sobering account of a league struggling with its own success. Caitlin Clark is an athlete of a different magnitude, a superstar whose influence has been compared to that of Michael Jordan, the last team athlete to command such a singular, game-changing presence. While this should have been a moment of shared joy, a time for the entire league to bask in the spotlight she brought, it became a moment of conflict. The video outlines a process akin to the five stages of grief, where players, media, and executives grappled with the new reality of a league centered around one person.

The first stage, Denial, was a blatant and immediate reaction to Clark’s arrival. The video describes a resistance that went beyond healthy skepticism and veered into flat-out downplaying of her impact. The old guard—veteran players, seasoned media analysts, and even some league executives—jumped in to question the hype, to resist the notion that one person could be the catalyst for such a profound shift. This was not just a case of “we’ve seen this before”; it was, as the video suggests, a deep-seated refusal to acknowledge that the long-sought growth of the league was happening on someone else’s terms. It was a failure to see the forest for the trees, a refusal to embrace the gift of a superstar for the sake of defending a dream that had not yet come to fruition.

This denial quickly gave way to Anger. The on-court action became a physical manifestation of this resentment. The video details a troubling pattern of hard screens, off-ball hits, and unnecessary contact directed at Clark. The referees, for their part, seemed to pocket their whistles, allowing a more aggressive, and at times dangerous, style of play to go unchecked. This was not just a rivalry; it was a form of pushback, a way for players to express their frustration with a system that seemed to be rewarding a newcomer with all the attention they felt they had earned. The on-court violence, in this context, was not just about winning the game; it was about sending a message, a desperate attempt to assert dominance in a world that was rapidly changing around them.

The third stage, Bargaining, saw a shift in tactics. With the “Caitlin Clark effect” proving to be an unstoppable force, the narrative began to change. Many players, whose egos had taken a hit as Clark stole the spotlight, began to rationalize their feelings by attacking the fans and the media. The video highlights how the story became less about basketball and more about a perceived injustice, a notion that Clark’s success was due to factors outside of her own talent, such as race or media bias. This was a form of intellectual bargaining, an attempt to make sense of a new reality by reframing it as a flaw in the system rather than a personal defeat. By casting blame on others, they could avoid the painful truth that a generational talent had arrived and, in the process, had eclipsed them.

Despite all this internal turmoil and external resistance, the “Caitlin Clark effect” did not simmer down. In fact, it did the opposite. The momentum built to a fever pitch. Veterans, once resistant, began to line up to join the Indiana Fever, not just because of the coach or the roster, but because of Clark herself. The business implications were monumental. For the first time in history, WNBA games were being played in major NBA arenas like the United Center, and of the Indiana Fever’s 44 regular season games, 41 were nationally televised. A single preseason exhibition game sold out a 15,000-seat arena, with an average ticket price of $650, bringing in almost $9.75 million for a single event. The proof was overwhelming and undeniable. The narrative of resistance was being crushed under the weight of hard numbers and unprecedented success.

This financial and cultural tidal wave finally led to the final stage: Acceptance. Slowly but surely, the players and the media began to talk, to acknowledge the reality that had been staring them in the face all along. With more eyeballs on the game than ever before, the question became, “Why would anyone feel some type of way about it?” The answer, of course, was ego, a human flaw that had nearly cost the league a golden opportunity. But now, with the proof of her impact everywhere, the collective resistance is beginning to fade. Caitlin Clark is not just a passing fad; she is a force of nature, “fully primed to dominate.” The preseason game in Iowa was not just a one-off spectacle; it was, as the video suggests, the “rebirth of the Caitlin Clark effect,” and it is set to be bigger than ever before. The funeral is over, and the celebration has finally begun. The WNBA can now, at long last, start to fully embrace the gift it has been given and build a sustainable future on the foundation that its most influential star has laid.