Every team is so intent on beating Clark that they neglect the other players…
Every time Caitlin Clark steps onto a WNBA court, all eyes are on her—defenders, coaches, broadcasters, and fans alike. Her presence alone alters the rhythm of a game before a single point is scored. But while the narrative continues to orbit around Clark, both as a generational player and cultural lightning rod, a growing reality is beginning to define her rookie season in the league: every team is so intent on beating her that they forget basketball is still a five-on-five game. Opponents are so focused on shutting her down—mentally, physically, emotionally—that they’re overlooking the threats standing beside her. In trying to extinguish Clark, they’re lighting the path for others.
This hyper-focused defense is not simply about slowing down a talented guard. It’s become a full-scale mission across the league. Coaches are crafting entire game plans designed to trap her, frustrate her, and make her presence irrelevant. From the opening tip, Clark is hounded—triple-teamed before she crosses half court, face-guarded without the ball, shoved off her routes, denied any chance to settle into a rhythm. Her reputation precedes her to such a degree that it often feels like teams have decided that if Caitlin Clark scores, they’ve failed. So they do everything in their power to make sure she doesn’t.
The irony? In focusing so obsessively on Clark, they’re playing directly into Indiana’s hands.
Clark’s teammates are beginning to find more space, more opportunity, and more confidence. For the first time in years, some of these players are getting open looks, clean drives, and mismatches—because all the attention is being vacuumed into one direction. Every double or triple team thrown at Clark leaves someone else wide open. Every defender who overcommits trying to make a statement against the rookie phenom creates a crack in the defense that Indiana is increasingly learning to exploit.
NaLyssa Smith has been one of the biggest beneficiaries. A gifted forward with size, athleticism, and a developing offensive game, Smith is beginning to thrive in the gaps that Clark’s gravitational pull creates. She’s getting to the rim more freely, facing fewer contested shots, and finding better lanes for offensive boards. Kelsey Mitchell, already a proven scorer in the league, is seeing more one-on-one situations than she has in years. The same goes for Aliyah Boston, last season’s Rookie of the Year, who often draws single coverage when opponents sell out to stop Clark’s perimeter threat.
This isn’t to say Clark’s adjustment to the pro game has been easy—it hasn’t. She’s had her growing pains, from turnovers to shooting slumps to physical punishment unlike anything she saw in college. But even when her stat line is underwhelming, her influence on the game remains undeniable. Defenses stretch and bend around her. Teams abandon traditional schemes in the name of stopping one player, and that tunnel vision is slowly catching up with them.
What’s striking is how personal the battle against Clark has become. She’s not just the top rookie; she’s become a symbol—of hype, of popularity, of change. And with that symbol comes resentment. Some players bristle at the attention she gets. Others feel that she’s been anointed too early, that she hasn’t “earned it yet.” Whether it’s fair or not, that resentment manifests on the court as physicality, as trash talk, as elbows in transition and shoulders on screens. And it manifests in team strategy, where it’s clear that stopping Clark is sometimes prioritized over simply winning the game.
This obsession with humbling Clark has backfired on more than one occasion. In multiple games, teams have built early leads through aggression and intensity, only to watch them vanish as Indiana’s role players start hitting shots and finding rhythm. While defenders swarm Clark, other players quietly stack up points. While Clark struggles to find space, others use the spacing she creates to drive and kick or cut and finish. Over time, this has led to a more balanced offense. The Fever are slowly transforming into a team with multiple scoring options, all thanks to the outsized attention their star rookie attracts.
Off the court, the Clark effect continues to reshape the league. Her games routinely draw the highest ratings. Her jersey flies off shelves. Road arenas sell out when Indiana visits. There’s no denying she has brought unprecedented attention to the WNBA. That attention is good for the league, but it has also come with a target on her back. And so, instead of adapting to the new reality of a growing league and a transcendent star, some teams and players have responded with hostility disguised as strategy. They want to send a message. But in trying to prove a point, they’re often missing the point.
The goal of any team is to win games. And yet, the level of effort being directed toward simply silencing Clark—regardless of what it costs—has started to look like sabotage. Opponents are sacrificing their own schemes, overextending their defenses, and gambling on plays they wouldn’t otherwise make, all in the name of containing one player. And even when it works on the surface—say, holding Clark to single digits—it doesn’t always result in a win.
The Fever, for their part, are learning how to capitalize. They’ve made adjustments, both in terms of play design and mentality. Clark has begun playing more off the ball to shake aggressive defenders. Teammates are cutting harder, screening more effectively, and showing trust that when the ball swings to them, they need to make it count. It’s fostering a sense of unity and empowerment within the team—one that says, “If you want to guard Caitlin like that, fine. We’ll beat you another way.”
And that’s the hidden danger in the league’s Clark obsession: it’s making her teammates better. It’s forcing them to step up, to grow, to contribute at higher levels. By focusing so intently on one rookie, other teams are unintentionally fueling the development of the entire Indiana roster. And when Clark does fully adapt to the pace, physicality, and spacing of the WNBA—which she inevitably will—those teammates will already be battle-tested and confident, forming a dangerous core.
This isn’t just about basketball tactics. It’s about ego, control, and resistance to change. Clark represents a shift in how the league is marketed, discussed, and consumed. Some welcome it; others resist it. But the numbers don’t lie: her games attract more viewers, her presence sells more tickets, and her storylines dominate the sports landscape. The league has never seen anything like her. So naturally, opposing teams want to be the ones who “stop Caitlin Clark.” But in their tunnel-vision pursuit, they’re letting everyone else beat them.
It’s a strange paradox. The more teams try to shut her down, the more they open themselves up to being exposed. The more pressure they put on her, the more they relieve pressure from her teammates. And the more they personalize the battle, the more Indiana seems to rise to the challenge together. Clark may not always be the one scoring the most points, but her fingerprints are on every possession—drawing defenders, creating space, igniting pace, and, most of all, inspiring belief.
Eventually, teams will have to make a choice. Continue down this p
