The WNBA is currently experiencing a renaissance of popularity, fueled by a new generation of superstars and a level of physicality that rivals any professional sports league in the world. However, with increased visibility comes increased scrutiny, and a recent preseason clash between the New York Liberty and the Phoenix Mercury has provided the perfect lightning rod for debate. At the center of the storm are two of the league’s most prominent figures: the reigning MVP Breanna Stewart and the league’s premier “enforcer,” Sophie Cunningham. When Stewart leveled Cunningham with a thunderous screen during a transition play, the internet immediately fractured into two camps. One side saw a veteran superstar delivering a calculated “cheap shot” as a form of revenge, while the other saw a routine basketball play that resulted in a common offensive foul. To understand the gravity of this moment, we must look beyond the ten-second viral clip and analyze the mechanics of the game, the reputations of the players involved, and the dangerous way social media is transforming basketball analysis into a cultural battlefield.
To the casual observer, the collision looked devastating. As Cunningham was sprinting to play tight, aggressive defense on the ball handler, Stewart moved into her path to set a screen. The impact sent Cunningham flying to the floor, sparking immediate “think pieces” and sensationalized tweets demanding that Stewart be held accountable. Some fans went so far as to label the play “assault,” claiming that “Stewie” intentionally raised an elbow or targeted Cunningham’s head. But a closer, more technical look at the footage tells a much different story. In the world of professional basketball, this was a textbook “late screen.” According to the rules, a player setting a screen must give the defender enough time and distance to react and adjust. Because Cunningham was moving at high speed and Stewart set her feet just a fraction of a second too late, the officials correctly whistled an offensive foul. There was no elbow to the face, no shoulder check to the jaw, and no malicious follow-through. It was simply two high-level athletes occupying the same space at the same time, with one moving faster than the physics of the play allowed for.
The controversy is amplified by the specific personalities involved. Sophie Cunningham has made a career out of being the player you love to have on your team but hate to play against. She is physical, vocal, and unapologetically aggressive. In many ways, she is the Phoenix Mercury’s enforcer—a role that often involves initiating the very type of contact she received from Stewart. Because of this, a certain segment of the fanbase viewed the hit as “poetic justice” or a “taste of her own medicine.” This narrative, however, is where sports analysis begins to fail. When we start judging the legality of a play based on whether we “like” the person receiving the hit, we lose the ability to talk about basketball objectively. The presenter in the recent viral breakdown correctly pointed out that Cunningham’s own defensive style—playing “chest-to-chest” and staying extremely tight to the ball—makes these types of collisions inevitable. If you are going to play that close to the sun, you have to expect to get burned by a hard screen every once in a while.
The presenter also drew a sharp contrast between this play and other, more egregious acts of violence on the court. For example, when Alyssa Thomas delivered a blatant shoulder check to the jaw of Caitlin Clark, that was a non-basketball play that warranted a flagrant foul. In that instance, the intent was to displace the player using a football-style hit. In contrast, Breanna Stewart’s feet were set, her arms were down, and she was attempting to facilitate a hand-off to her teammate. The fact that Cunningham was “creamed” by the contact is a testament to the speed of the game, not the malice of the player. Comparing a late screen to a targeted strike is not only inaccurate; it’s a disservice to the officials who have to make these split-second calls. The referees in this game saw the play for exactly what it was: a common offensive foul. They didn’t fall for the “theatrics” of the fall, nor did they overreact to the star power of the players involved.
Furthermore, the conversation around this hit reveals a deeper trend in how the WNBA is covered by modern media. There is an increasing tendency to project political or social narratives onto routine sports plays. Cunningham has often been portrayed as a “target” for certain groups, or conversely, as a “villain” who deserves whatever contact comes her way. This “us versus them” mentality ignores the reality of the locker room. Most of these players have immense respect for one another’s toughness. As the presenter noted, Cunningham got right back up and continued to play the next possession. She knows the game is physical. She knows that to be an enforcer, you have to be willing to take a hit as well as give one. The “crying” about a cheap shot didn’t come from the Phoenix bench; it came from people on X (formerly Twitter) who perhaps don’t understand the “Lexi Hull” blueprint of professional basketball.
Lexi Hull is a prime example of a player who has turned the “offensive foul draw” into an art form. By staying so close to the defender that they cannot legally set a screen, players like Hull and Cunningham force the officials to make a choice. They put their bodies on the line every single night, knowing they will likely end up on the hardwood several times per game. It is a gritty, unselfish way to play that often results in 800-thousand-dollar careers built on being a “nuisance” to the opposition. When Cunningham drew the foul on Stewart, she did her job perfectly. She played the defense so tightly that Stewart was forced into a mistake. In that sense, Cunningham “won” the possession. To then turn around and claim she was the victim of a “cheap shot” undermines the very defensive brilliance she displayed.
The “enforcer” hierarchy also plays a role in how these moments are perceived. The analysis suggested that Stewart might not have attempted such a bold screen on someone like Myisha Hines-Allen, who carries a reputation for immediate and physically imposing retaliation. Every league has its “don’t mess with me” list, and Stewart is smart enough to know where the lines are drawn. But against Cunningham, who thrives in the chaos of physical play, Stewart felt comfortable playing “hard ball.” This is the beauty of the WNBA—it is a league of elite competitors who aren’t afraid to knock each other down. We should be celebrating the fact that the league has players who are willing to set hard screens and defenders who are willing to fight through them, rather than trying to sanitize the game with endless “outrage cycles.”
Ultimately, the “cheap shot” that wasn’t is a lesson in media literacy for sports fans. We live in an era where a single slow-motion replay can be used to support almost any agenda. If you want to see an elbow, you’ll find a frame that looks like an elbow. If you want to see a “smirk” of satisfaction, you’ll find a pixel that looks like a smirk. But if you watch the game at full speed, with an understanding of the rules and the context of the season, you see a high-intensity preseason matchup between two teams that have legitimate championship aspirations. The New York Liberty and the Phoenix Mercury are going to be physical every time they meet. Breanna Stewart is going to set screens, and Sophie Cunningham is going to try to blow them up.
As we move closer to the regular season, the spotlight on the WNBA will only grow brighter. It is imperative that the conversation stays rooted in the game of basketball. When we treat every hard foul like a national crisis, we distract from the incredible skill, strategy, and athleticism that these women bring to the court every night. Sophie Cunningham isn’t a victim; she’s a warrior who knows exactly what she’s doing. Breanna Stewart isn’t a “dirty” player; she’s a champion who plays with an edge. Let’s stop the “think pieces” and start appreciating the toughness. The referees made the right call, the players moved on to the next play, and the fans should do the same. If this is the level of intensity we can expect from a preseason game, then the WNBA is in for its most explosive and competitive year yet.
