The “Caitlin Clark effect,” or the impact on women’s basketball from a ponytailed rookie phenomenon from America’s heartland, is real: The 2024 WNBA season shattered viewership, attendance and merchandise sales records.
Clark, however, didn’t get a chance to compete for a league title.
The Connecticut Sun eliminated Clark’s team, the Indiana Fever, in the first round of the playoffs with a two-game sweep, ending her record rookie-of-the-year campaign.
And it may be just the latest chapter in a complicated saga steeped in race.
During the first game of the series, the fingers of Sun guard DiJonai Carrington hit Clark in the eye as Carrington followed through on a block attempt of a Clark shot.
During the next day’s media availability, USA Today columnist Christine Brennan recorded and posted an exchange between herself and Carrington.
In the brief clip, the veteran sports writer asks Carrington, who is Black, if she purposely hit Clark in the eye during the previous night’s game. Though Carrington insisted she didn’t intentionally hit Clark, Brennan persisted, asking the guard if she and a teammate had laughed about the incident. The questions sparked social media outrage, statements from the players union and the league, media personalities weighing in and more.
Hit the pause button here.
As a longtime sports writer who has covered the WNBA – and as a journalism scholar who studies women’s sports and fandom – I’ll concede that Brennan’s line of questioning seems, on its face, like business as usual in sports journalism.
After all, haven’t most baseball fans seen a scribe ask a pitcher if he intentionally beaned a batter?
But Brennan’s questions were not asked in a vacuum. The emergence of a young, white superstar from the heartland has caused many new WNBA fans to pick sides that fall along racial lines. Brennan’s critics claim she was pushing a line of questioning that has dogged Black athletes for decades: that they are aggressive and undisciplined.
Because of that, her defense of her questions – and her unwillingness to acknowledge the complexities – has left this professor disappointed in one of her journalistic heroes.
Brennan and much of the mainstream sports media, particularly those who cover professional women’s basketball, still seem to have a racial blind spot.
The emergence of a Black, queer league
When the WNBA launched in 1997 in the wake of the success of the 1996 Olympic gold-medal-winning U.S. women’s basketball team, it did so under the watch of the NBA.
The NBA set out to market its new product, in part, to a white, heterosexual fan base.
The plan didn’t take hold.
While the league experienced fits and starts in attendance and TV ratings over its lifetime, the demographic makeup of its players is undeniable: The WNBA is, by and large, a Black, queer league.
In 2020, the Women’s National Basketball Players Association reported that 83% of its members were people of color, with 67% self-reporting as “Black/African-American.” While gender and sexual identity hasn’t been officially reported, a “substantial proportion,” the WNBPA reported, identify as LBGTQ+.
In 2020, the league’s diversity was celebrated as players competed in a “bubble” in Bradenton, Florida, due to the COVID-19 pandemic. They protested racial injustice, helped unseat a U.S. senator who also owned Atlanta’s WNBA franchise, and urged voters to oust former President Donald Trump from the White House.
Racial tensions bubble to the surface
In the middle of it all, the WNBA has more eyeballs on it than ever before. And, without mincing words, the fan base has “gotten whiter” since Clark’s debut this past summer, as The Wall Street Journal pointed out in July. Those white viewers of college women’s basketball have emphatically turned their attention to the pro game, in large part due to Clark’s popularity at the University of Iowa.
Money is also pouring into the league through a lucrative media rights deal and new sponsorship partners.
While the rising tide following Clark’s transition to the WNBA is certainly lifting all boats, it is also bringing detritus to the surface in the form of racist jeers from the stands and on social media.
After the Sun dispatched the Fever, All-WNBA forward Alyssa Thomas, who seldom speaks beyond soundbites, said in a postgame news conference: “I think in my 11-year career I’ve never experienced the racial comments from the Indiana Fever fan base. … I’ve never been called the things that I’ve been called on social media, and there’s no place for it.”
Echoes of Bird and Magic
In “Manufacturing Consent,” a seminal work about the U.S. news business, Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky argued that media in capitalist environments do not exist to impartially report the news, but to reinforce dominant narratives of the time, even if they are false. Most journalists, they theorized, work to support the status quo.
In sports, you sometimes see that come to light through what media scholars call “the stereotypical narrative” – a style of reporting and writing that relies on old tropes.
Scholars who study sports media have found that reporters routinely fall back on racial stereotypes. For example, coverage of Black quarterbacks in the NFL as less intelligent and more innately gifted would go on to hinder the progress of Black quarterbacks.
Magic Johnson defends a shot by Larry Bird during the 1985 NBA Finals. Bob Riha, Jr./Getty Images
In Brennan’s coverage of the Carrington-Clark incident, there appear to be echoes of the way the media covered Los Angeles Lakers point guard Magic Johnson and Boston Celtics forward Larry Bird in the 1980s.
The battles between two of the sport’s greatest players – one Black, the other white – was a windfall for the NBA, lifting the league into financial sustainability.
But to many reporters who leaned on the dominant narrative of the time, the two stars also served as stand-ins for the racial tensions of the post-civil rights era. During the 1980s, Bird and Magic didn’t simply hoop; they were the “embodiments of their races and living symbols of how blacks and whites lived in America,” as scholars Patrick Ferrucci and Earnest Perry wrote.
The media gatekeepers of the Magic-Bird era often relied on racial stereotypes that ultimately distorted both athletes.
For example, early in their careers, Bird and Johnson received different journalistic treatment. In Ferrucci and Perry’s article, they explain how coverage of Bird “fit the dominant narrative of the time perfectly … exhibiting a hardworking and intelligent game that succeeded despite a lack of athletic prowess.” When the “flashy” Lakers and Johnson won, they wrote, it was because of “superior skill.”
When they lost to Bird’s Celtics, they were “outworked.”
Framing matters
Let’s go back to Brennan.
Few have done more for young women in the sports media industry than Brennan. In time, energy and money, she has mentored and supported young women trying to break into the field. She has used her platform to expand the coverage of women’s sports.
Brennan defended herself in a lengthy interview on the podcast “Good Game with Sarah Spain”:
“I think [critics are] missing the fact of what I’m trying to do, what I am doing, what I understand clearly as a journalist, asking questions and putting things out there so that athletes can then have an opportunity to answer issues that are being discussed or out there.”
I don’t think Brennan asking Carrington about the foul was problematic. Persisting with the narrative was.
USA Today sports columnist Christine Brennan accepts an award at The Billies, a ceremony that focused on positive media portrayals of female athletes, in 2006. Frazer Harrison/Getty Images
Leaning into racial stereotypes is not simply about the language used anymore. Brennan’s video of her persistent line of questioning pitted Carrington against Clark. It could be argued that it used the stereotype of the overly physical, aggressive Black athlete, as well.
At best, Brennan has a blind spot to the strain racism is putting on Black athletes today – particularly in the WNBA. At worst, she is digging in on that tired trope.
A blind spot can be addressed and seen. An unacknowledged racist narrative, however, will persist.
