You know the old saying — “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” And in the case of Angel Reese and her mom, that tree just logged onto Twitter, fired up the caps lock, and went full scorched earth after Caitlin Clark turned preseason basketball into must-see TV.

Let’s be clear: this wasn’t about a hard foul. This wasn’t even about the game. This was about ratings. About relevance. And most of all — resentment.

Because when Caitlin Clark casually pulls 1.3 million viewers for an exhibition game, while Angel Reese’s preseason debut fades into the digital abyss like a forgotten YouTube vlog, emotions don’t just simmer. They explode. And boy, did Mama Reese detonate.

The Queen of Drama Meets the Queen of Ratings

After Clark practically sold out Carver-Hawkeye Arena and melted Nielsen charts like butter in July, Reese’s mom took to social media with the grace of a charging bull in stilettos. Her message? Thinly veiled bitterness.

She tweeted:

“That certain fan base looking in the stands celebrating attendance while others are looking up in the rafters at championship banners. We ain’t the same.”

Translation? We’ve got trophies, you’ve got eyeballs. Cute flex. Except the rest of the basketball world looked at the scoreboard — the TV one — and asked, “But… who’s watching?”

Because here’s the inconvenient truth: Caitlin Clark is the moment. She’s a walking headline, a human ratings spike. Every time she pulls up from 30 feet, ESPN execs light candles in gratitude.

Meanwhile, in Baton Rouge…

Let’s talk about Reese’s preseason game. The buzz was so dead, you could hear sneakers squeak across state lines. The vibe? More rec league than Renaissance tour. Viewers? Scarce. Energy? Absent. Stakes? Nonexistent.

But that didn’t stop Reese’s mom from spinning a narrative worthy of a conspiracy podcast. Ratings? Rigged. Coverage? Biased. Planetary alignment? Probably off. Mercury? Absolutely in retrograde.

Never mind that Clark didn’t say a single word about Reese, her mom, or anyone else. She just played. And played well. Efficient. Poised. Lethal from deep. No drama. No diva moments. Just dimes and daggers.

Meanwhile, Reese’s camp treated a preseason tune-up like the Super Bowl was robbed and blamed the broadcast gods for “not getting it.” The truth? America wasn’t confused. They just weren’t watching.

Insecurity Screams. Confidence Plays.

Caitlin Clark didn’t need to subtweet anyone. She let the scoreboard do the talking. And yet, here comes Mama Reese, cape flapping, yelling into the algorithm about fanbases, banners, and invisible haters.

Let’s pause. Caitlin Clark drew 1.3 million viewers in a game that didn’t count. An exhibition. She checked out in the third quarter. And still — still! — the numbers dwarfed what most regular-season matchups can dream of.

And Reese? Still living off that 2023 LSU title like it’s a Netflix reboot no one asked for. Respect the ring, sure. But eventually, even championship glow fades if you don’t evolve. Especially when your biggest headlines are written by… your mom.

Not a Rivalry. A Reality Check.

We’re not watching a rivalry, folks. We’re watching a gap. Clark is selling out arenas, owning headlines, and shaping league narratives. Reese? Trending for all the wrong reasons — cryptic tweets, missed layups, and sideline side-eyes.

And while Angel stays mostly silent, her mom wages a one-woman war against gravity, logic, and broadcast statistics. Inspirational quotes. Petty digs. Imaginary slights. It’s less support and more sabotage.

Because let’s be real — if your daughter’s game gets outdrawn by a rerun of Antique Roadshow, maybe don’t come for the girl who’s turning every possession into SportsCenter gold.

Clark Isn’t Just Playing — She’s Taking Over

This isn’t just hype. It’s dominance. It’s Caitlin Clark turning the preseason into the main event. And if Reese’s camp is this rattled in April, what happens when Clark starts really cooking this summer?

This isn’t about hate. It’s about heat. And Clark brought a flamethrower to a press release party.

So here’s some advice to the Reese camp: instead of tweeting through the L, maybe just… hoop. Let your game speak. Let your daughter grow. And maybe, just maybe, leave the subtweets to the teenagers.

Because Clark? She’s not listening.

She’s busy rewriting the league.