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Here I am, Sally Sportface, right where all the action is flying high on the chartered flight for the Chicago Sky sitting next to an entrepreneurial powerhouse like no other, Angel Reese.
As she scrolls through the thousands of fan comments about her wearing 10-inch high heels to her last game, I eat my family-size bag of Barbecue Fritos and a large Fanta Grape Soda.
Unlike men, who are dolts, I’m a woman which means I am an astute reader of books including all the Shakespearean masterpieces.
Why bring this up now? Because I’m marveling at the brilliance of Angel Reese understanding that by embracing her role as the WNBA’s villain to Caitlin Clark, she’s pulling in millions more Instagram followers to her account, getting more ad gigs, plastering her face on the cover of more magazines, wearing bikinis more often, and making herself incredibly rich. For a story to be compelling we need tension, rancor, and authentical interpersonal dislike and Angel is playing that role – and playing all of us – with the cunning and sophistication that makes her an inspiration to all women everywhere.
“I don’t hate Caitlin Clark,” she says. “I just don’t like her at all and think she’s overrated and a potty mouth on the court. But she’s making me rich. I’m buying cool high heels and jewelry and posing for magazines. All I have to do is keep being mean to Caitlin and saying bad things about her and the money will keep rolling in and that’s all I care about. Money, baby doll, is what this is all about. Bayou Barbie is about bank.”
I finish off my barbecue Fritos awestruck by this break-out 21st-century woman filling me up with ear candy, wondering how Reese got so smart to figure out that by being mean to Caitlin she would enrich herself.
“I should get a $28 million shoe deal from Nike,” she said. “I’m the reason Caitlin is so popular. She’s nothing without Angel Reese. I beat her in the national championship and I’m going to beat her in the WNBA. I’ll get a championship way before she does.”
Such confidence she has, I think to myself.
“I’m the reason we got the chartered flights – not Caitlin,” she said. “I’m the reason Caitlin’s games are selling out. The Chicago Sky games should be selling out to watch me play and yell at opponents and check out my long eyelashes. You watch, Caitlin won’t be anything compared to me. I’ll keep taking her down until she finally crumbles.”
She then turned to me with her eyelashes extending so far they brushed against my nose and I felt a little tingle.
“WNBA players should get paid what NBA players get paid,” she said. “Equal pay for equal work. I’m a bigger villain than anyone in the NBA. I bring in the fans. I’m making the WNBA bundles of bank. Caitlin is just a diva from Iowa, overrated and overhyped. She’s an attention hound and is not nearly as good as people think. We’re punching and pushing her and that ain’t gonna stop.”
“How did you get so business savvy?” I asked.
“I took marketing and entrepreneurship classes at LSU,” she said.
“You’re so wise and shrewd for being so young,” I said. “And using the Shakespearean thematic model to your advantage is so impressive. Let me ask: Do you envision yourself more as Macbeth or Hamlet?”
“Get away from me, Sally Slothface,” said Angel. “Go stuff those Barbecue Fritos in your face in another seat. Don’t ask me about Shakespeare. I’m busy taking over the WNBA and pop culture. No time for literature. My time to shine. Time for Beautiful Bayou Barbie to make bank.”
Author Profile
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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