The Chicago Sky locker room, once a model of cohesion and veteran leadership, has reportedly descended into dysfunction — and at the center of the storm is none other than Angel Reese, the league’s most polarizing rookie since Caitlin Clark.

Multiple sources within the organization — including front office staff, assistant coaches, and two current players speaking on condition of anonymity — have described Reese as “the worst teammate in sports right now,” citing a pattern of diva behavior, public disrespect toward teammates, and an obsession with personal branding that’s fractured team chemistry and derailed what was supposed to be a promising season.

It began subtly — eye rolls during film sessions, passive-aggressive comments after missed rotations, social media posts celebrating her own highlights while ignoring team wins.

But things escalated rapidly after a nationally televised loss to the Las Vegas Aces in late May, when Reese was caught on camera muttering “I’m carrying these bums” as she walked off the court — unaware that a courtside mic had picked it up.

The clip went viral within minutes, sparking outrage among fans and teammates alike. While Reese later claimed it was “locker room talk” and “taken out of context,” multiple Sky players told confidants they felt betrayed — especially veterans like Courtney Vandersloot and Allie Quigley, who had publicly defended Reese against early criticism.

Behind closed doors, the situation has only worsened. According to insiders, Reese routinely skips optional workouts, arrives late to mandatory meetings, and demands special treatment — from customized meals to private transportation — that no other player receives.

When asked to adjust, she allegedly responds with phrases like “Do you know how many tickets I sell?” or “My brand built this arena.” One assistant coach, near tears during a private conversation, admitted: “She doesn’t see herself as part of a team. She sees the team as part of her brand.”

The breaking point came last week, when Reese posted an Instagram Story mocking teammate Chennedy Carter’s missed game-winning shot against Indiana — overlaying the clip with laughing emojis and the caption “Some people just ain’t built for pressure 😅.” The post stayed up for 47 minutes before being deleted, but not before dozens of teammates, staff, and fans screenshotted it.

Carter, devastated, skipped practice the next day. Head coach Teresa Weatherspoon reportedly called an emergency team meeting — her first ever — where she confronted Reese directly. Witnesses say Reese shrugged and replied, “It was a joke. People need to chill.”

That moment, sources say, shattered whatever trust remained. Veteran players began distancing themselves. Team dinners became awkward silences. Group chats went dead. “It’s like walking on eggshells,” said one player.

“You never know if something you do — even accidentally — is gonna end up as her next TikTok roast.” Even Reese’s staunchest defenders within the organization have reportedly begun to waver. “We knew she was fiery,” said one staffer. “But this isn’t passion. This is poison.”

What makes Reese’s behavior particularly damaging is its timing. The Sky entered the season with playoff aspirations, anchored by a core of proven winners and a coaching staff known for discipline and accountability. Instead, they’re 6–12, dead last in the East, and trending for all the wrong reasons.

Ticket sales are down 18% since April. Sponsorship activations have been quietly postponed. And perhaps most telling — jersey sales for every player except Reese have plummeted. Fans aren’t just tuning out; they’re turning against the franchise.

Reese’s camp, predictably, denies everything. Her agent released a statement calling the allegations “fabricated narratives pushed by jealous teammates and insecure executives threatened by Angel’s success.”

Publicly, Reese continues to double down — posting glamorous gym selfies with captions like “Built different 🐐” and “They hate me ‘cause they ain’t me 💅.” In interviews, she pivots to “focusing on my craft” and “blocking out the noise,” never once acknowledging the locker room turmoil swirling around her.

But the noise isn’t coming from outsiders. It’s coming from inside the house. At least three Sky players have privately reached out to agents about requesting trades — a stunning development for a team that prided itself on culture just one year ago. “This isn’t basketball anymore,” said one frustrated veteran. “It’s a reality show with jump shots. And nobody signed up for that.”

League officials are watching closely. While the WNBA typically avoids meddling in internal team dynamics, sources say Commissioner Cathy Engelbert’s office has received multiple complaints — not just from players, but from broadcast partners and corporate sponsors disturbed by the toxicity.

“Angel is great for headlines,” said one marketing executive. “But she’s terrible for partnerships. No brand wants to be associated with drama that alienates teammates and fans.”

Even Reese’s biggest on-court strength — her rebounding dominance — is becoming a liability. Coaches say she regularly ignores defensive assignments to chase boards, leaving teammates exposed. In transition, she demands outlet passes even when outnumbered, leading to turnovers.

And in huddles, she talks over play calls — sometimes audibling into isolation plays without consulting the coach. “She thinks she’s the offense, the defense, and the halftime show,” muttered one assistant. “Problem is — she’s not.”

Social media, once her megaphone, is turning against her too. Hashtags like #TradeAngelReese and #SkyOverEgo began trending after the Carter incident. Former WNBA stars like Swin Cash and Becky Hammon weighed in, urging Reese to “grow up” and “respect the game that made you.”

Even Caitlin Clark, usually diplomatic, was asked about the situation in a post-game presser — and offered a carefully worded response: “Team comes first. Always has, always will.” The subtext was clear.

Psychologists who study athlete behavior say Reese’s actions reflect deeper insecurity masked as arrogance. “When athletes feel their status is threatened — even subconsciously — they often lash out, dominate conversations, or belittle others to reassert control,” said Dr. Lisa Tran, a sports performance specialist. “It’s not malice. It’s fear. But that doesn’t excuse the damage.”

The Sky’s front office is now at a crossroads. Do they bench Reese — risking fan revolt and sponsor fallout? Do they trade her — potentially for pennies on the dollar given her reputation?

Or do they attempt another intervention, hoping maturity kicks in before the season implodes completely? “There’s no easy answer,” admitted one executive. “She’s toxic… but she’s also our only draw. That’s the tragedy.”

Meanwhile, Reese barrels forward — oblivious, defiant, or both. She’s launched a new merch line called “QUEEN REIGN,” scheduled a reality docuseries with Amazon Prime, and hinted at skipping the WNBA next season for overseas “bigger opportunities.” To her, this isn’t a crisis. It’s content. And as long as cameras are rolling and checks are clearing, nothing else matters.

But basketball isn’t filmed. It’s played — together. And right now, Angel Reese isn’t just clowning the Chicago Sky. She’s clowning the very idea of teamwork. Whether she realizes it or not, the joke’s on her — because in sports, no queen reigns forever without an army behind her. And hers? They’ve already started walking away.