No, absolutely no, because Olivia Miles is officially, completely infected with the toxic disease that is the pervasive WNBA delusion circulating across modern sports media.

The sheer delusion that aggressively permeates throughout the entire professional league has now successfully seeped directly into the bloodstream of young star Olivia Miles.

She is out here shamelessly lying directly to the public, pretending like she gets guarded with the same terrifying intensity as superstar Caitlin Clark.

When we all actually watch the games with our own eyes, we clearly know this girl does not get guarded like Caitlin Clark at all.

This widespread epidemic of false equivalence represents an embarrassing attempt by young players to artificially place themselves inside Clark’s completely untouchable, transcendent stratosphere.

Defenses are certainly not picking up ordinary guards forty feet away from the basket, terrified of deep perimeter range that shatters normal geometric spacing.

Yet the league’s toxic culture continually encourages young athletes to believe their own manufactured hype while ignoring the harsh, observable realities on the floor.

Enter NBA legend Tracy McGrady, who finally stepped forward to completely dismantle the self-serving narrative being desperately peddled by biased media personalities everywhere.

It is all happening exclusively because of the Clark show, and huge credit belongs to Tracy McGrady for unapologetically keeping it totally real today.

A massive bunch of talking heads in the WNBA media ecosystem simply cannot bring themselves to be honest about who drives the needle.

This unprecedented explosion is not happening because of DeWanna Bonner, Diana Taurasi, Sue Bird, Alyssa Thomas, or even reigning superstar MVP A’ja Wilson.

No, it is unequivocally not happening because of them, no matter how many championship rings or historical accolades they desperately point to in arguments.

This historic basketball revolution is happening because of one single person, and her name is undeniably, unmistakably Caitlin Clark, the ultimate global phenomenon.

McGrady’s blunt assessment delivered a devastating reality check to an establishment that has spent years attempting to distribute credit where it never belonged.

The uncomfortable truth remains that previous generations spent decades begging for national relevance, corporate sponsorships, and sold-out arenas without ever achieving true mainstream breakthrough.

Then a transcendent rookie arrived, shattered every single viewership record in existence, and forced the entire sporting landscape to pay immediate, rapt attention.

Instead of displaying humble gratitude for this economic windfall, bitter veterans and emerging players continuously attempt to minimize Clark’s solitary, undisputed economic impact.

Nothing illustrates this glaring disparity more brutally than the cold, unvarnished truth regarding actual live arena ticket sales across the professional league.

Established stars certainly possess respectable social media followings, but they do not sell out massive NBA-sized arenas on a consistent, nightly basis whatsoever.

I was physically present at the A’ja Wilson game in Chicago when the Las Vegas Aces played at the legendary, cavernous United Center.

That historic building, famously known as the house that Michael Jordan built, was practically empty inside while the reigning league MVP ran point.

I am just keeping it completely real with the audience, because people simply were not showing up to fill those empty upper decks.

A’ja Wilson is simply not selling tickets like Caitlin Clark, and no amount of public relations spin can ever magically change that fact.

When Clark visits opposing cities, arena tickets sell out within minutes, resale markets skyrocket into thousands, and secondary venues are booked in advance.

When other celebrated franchise cornerstones play in those exact same major metropolitan venues, vast sections of seats remain eerily quiet and completely vacant.

Yet young prospects like Olivia Miles foolishly believe that their defensive coverage and cultural weight somehow rival the most heavily watched athlete alive.

It is an absurd, completely detached hallucination that exposes just how profoundly out of touch the women’s basketball establishment remains with objective reality.

Clark faces suffocating full-court traps, illegal physical contact, and continuous double teams precisely because opposing coaching staffs are utterly terrified of her lethal offensive engine.

Miles does not command that panic, nor does she possess the gravity to alter how entire defensive schemes are drawn up in chalk.

To pretend otherwise on camera is not harmless confidence; it is pure, unadulterated fiction born from an ecosystem that fiercely resents Clark’s dominance.

Tracy McGrady’s willingness to say the quiet part out loud completely shattered the safe, comfortable echo chamber that league executives built around veterans.

The corporate media wants fans to believe this current golden era was a slow, collective climb engineered by decades of selfless institutional sacrifice.

In reality, it was an instantaneous, explosive lightning strike sparked by a singular generational superstar who dragged a struggling league into the global spotlight.

The box office receipts do not lie, the television ratings do not lie, and the empty seats at rival games provide the ultimate damning proof.

Players can continue to complain, make excuses, and fabricate stories about defensive pressure, but the global basketball audience sees straight through the desperate charade.

Caitlin Clark stands completely alone atop the mountain, while the rest of the league continues to squirm under the weight of their own delusions.

The gap between authentic superstardom and manufactured relevance has never been wider, and the truth is finally violently tearing through the league’s narrative.