It’s a tale of two narratives, but more importantly, it’s a harsh dose of reality for a league navigating an unprecedented boom, largely driven by one player’s gravitational pull.
The Indiana Fever’s decision to schedule a preseason game against Brazil’s national team at Carver Hawkeye Arena—the same court where Caitlin Clark became a legend—was a brilliant marketing move. Yet even the most optimistic WNBA executive couldn’t have predicted the results. All 14,000 tickets were gone within 36 minutes of the presale launch, and the public never even got a chance to buy them.
Fans crashed websites. Donors and longtime Iowa ticket holders scrambled to secure seats. And almost immediately, resale platforms were flooded with listings. Prices ranged from $500 for upper-level nosebleeds to over $4,000 for premium lower-bowl seats. Courtside tickets, in some cases, pushed past $6,000. One absurd listing even showed a front-row seat at $45,000—a clear exaggeration, but one that only emphasized the feverish demand.
This wasn’t a playoff game. This wasn’t the WNBA Finals. This wasn’t even the regular season. It was a preseason exhibition. And it still moved tickets like a major concert or an NFL playoff showdown.
Meanwhile, Angel Reese and the Chicago Sky will face the very same opponent—Brazil’s national team—just days later at LSU, her former college stomping grounds. Yet despite the homecoming narrative and months of media coverage touting Reese as one of the league’s future stars, ticket sales for that game paint a very different picture.
While Clark’s matchup was a sellout success, Reese’s game is still floating with thousands of seats unsold. Listings for $29 tickets are still sitting untouched. Seat maps show large sections of LSU’s arena wide open. No crashing websites, no frantic resales, and no headlines about ticket demand. Just silence.
It’s not just a contrast. It’s a business referendum.
These two events, side by side, are as close to a controlled experiment as professional sports will ever get. Same opponent. Same week. Similar “homecoming” storyline. Same league. And the outcome? A market-driven verdict on who truly moves the needle.
For Angel Reese, this reality check must sting. Throughout her rise, she’s carried herself as one of the biggest names in women’s basketball—often casting herself in direct comparison to Caitlin Clark. From social media barbs to post-game quotes, Reese has leaned into the rivalry narrative. She’s spoken boldly about being the reason people watch women’s basketball, asserting that her name is just as powerful.
But the numbers say otherwise.
Caitlin Clark has already proven she’s not just a basketball star—she’s a business juggernaut. Her rookie season shattered records for viewership and attendance. WNBA games featuring Clark routinely draw over a million viewers, often outperforming NBA regular-season games in key slots. Her merchandise flies off shelves. Her presence has helped spike league-wide revenue, increase sponsorship interest, and drive higher media rights valuations.
Reese, meanwhile, continues to rely more on presence than performance. Despite the media push, her on-court numbers haven’t matched the hype. Her social media influence is still strong, but it hasn’t translated into ticket sales, jersey demand, or sustained national buzz in the same way.
Perhaps most troubling for the Reese camp is how this ticket sales contrast exposes deeper concerns about authenticity. Clark’s appeal is rooted in her ability to connect with fans through both performance and humility. She doesn’t have to proclaim her value—it’s evident every time she steps on the floor. Her impact is visible in real-time, through packed arenas and soaring viewership metrics.
Reese, by contrast, seems caught in a loop of self-branding, where every game feels like a performance of her image rather than a display of team-first basketball. From calling herself the face of the league to suggesting she’s being targeted unfairly, the gap between narrative and reality is growing harder to ignore.
None of this is to deny Reese’s talent or potential. She remains one of the most exciting young players in the league. Her rebounding skills, size, and energy give her a strong foundation. But the current climate makes it clear: this isn’t about potential. It’s about results. And the market, without bias or filters, is showing who fans are willing to pay to see.
It’s also a reminder that hype alone cannot sustain a professional sports career. In a league where every dollar counts and every viewer matters, the players who elevate the entire product—not just their personal brand—are the ones who will define the future.
Caitlin Clark isn’t just the face of the league because of a viral moment or a hot streak. She’s the face because she’s earned it. She shows up. She performs. She makes teammates better. And she makes people care. That last one, perhaps more than anything, is what makes her invaluable.
Reese can still carve out her place in the league. But if the past year has shown anything, it’s that social media clout doesn’t translate into real-world value without the foundation of consistent, elite play and genuine connection with fans.
The 2025 season is already shaping up to be a story of rising stars, shifting power dynamics, and new levels of exposure for women’s basketball. But if preseason ticket sales are any indication, there’s only one player truly redefining the economics of the WNBA—and it’s not Angel Reese.
Caitlin Clark is the present. She’s the headline, the sellout machine, and the reason the league is finally breaking through into mainstream sports culture.
The market has spoken. The verdict is clear. And for Angel Reese, the question now isn’t how to compete with Clark—but whether she’s willing to evolve, refocus, and finally let her game do the talking. Because in this new era of the WNBA, attention isn’t given. It’s earned.
