The Gatorade commercial was supposed to be a home run. Released last week to capitalize on Caitlin Clark’s historic rookie season, it opened with the Fever star dribbling alone in an empty gym, sweat beading on her forehead, as a voiceover intoned, “Greatness doesn’t wait for the crowd.”

The final shot: Clark chugging a Gatorade, the Fever logo a tiny, distant blur on her jersey. For Gatorade, it was a play to align with the WNBA’s biggest draw. For Fever fans, it was a slap in the face.

Social media lit up within hours. “Where are her teammates?” tweeted @IndyFeverFan23. “The WNBA is about TEAM, not just one person.” Another fan posted a screenshot of the ad next to a photo of Clark hugging Aliyah Boston after a win: “This isn’t who she is.

Gatorade missed the mark.” The backlash wasn’t just about the ad—it was about a growing fear among Fever faithful: that the team’s identity was being swallowed by Clark’s stardom. And a new fan poll released this week confirmed their worst worries.

The survey, commissioned by the Indianapolis Star and conducted among 800 Fever ticket holders, revealed a stark reality: 72% of attendees said Caitlin Clark was the “primary reason” they bought tickets. Only 19% could name three other Fever players.

And 68% admitted they’d “significantly reduce” their game attendance if Clark were no longer on the team. For Fever management, those numbers should send chills. Clark is a generational talent, but the poll exposes a dangerous overreliance—one that threatens the team’s long-term sustainability even as it basks in short-term success.

To be clear, Clark’s impact is unprecedented. The Fever announced this week that her merchandise sales (jerseys, shirts, autographed basketballs) have hit $660,000 this season—more than triple the team’s total merch revenue from 2023.

Games are sold out weeks in advance. National TV ratings for Fever matchups are up 40% from last year. But the poll asks the uncomfortable question: Are fans coming for the Fever… or for Caitlin?

The Gatorade ad, in many ways, crystallized that tension. Clark, for all her individual brilliance, has repeatedly emphasized teamwork—she leads the league in assists (8.5 per game) and often deflects praise to teammates like Boston or Sophie Cunningham.

Yet the ad framed her as a solo act, a narrative that fans rejected as inauthentic. “Caitlin would hate this ad,” said Emily Carter, a season-ticket holder since 2020. “She’s always talking about how the team makes her better. Why is Gatorade acting like she’s alone?”

Fever management has been walking a tightrope all season. On one hand, they’re eager to leverage Clark’s fame to grow the franchise—her presence has turned the Fever from a rebuilding team into a national story. On the other, they know that sustainable success in the WNBA (or any sport) depends on fans connecting with the team, not just one player.

“We’re thrilled with Caitlin’s impact—she’s a once-in-a-generation talent,” said Fever GM Lin Dunn in a statement. “But our goal is to build a legacy that outlasts any single player. That means making sure fans know NaLyssa Smith’s defense, Kelsey Mitchell’s clutch shooting, Aliyah Boston’s rebounding. Those are the things that make a franchise.”

The problem? Right now, most fans don’t care. At last Sunday’s game against the Liberty, a vendor at Bankers Life Fieldhouse said 90% of merch sales were Clark-related. “I’ve sold two ‘Fever Team’ shirts all season,” he said, shaking his head.

“Everything else is Caitlin—jerseys, hoodies, even her signature shoes.” For younger fans, Clark is the Fever. A 12-year-old named Mia, waiting outside the locker room for an autograph, summed it up: “I love Caitlin. The other players are cool, but she’s why I watch.”

Sports marketing experts warn that this kind of star-dependent fandom is a double-edged sword. “Caitlin Clark is the best thing to happen to the Fever in a decade—but she’s also a risk,” said Dr. Sarah Lee, a professor of sports business at Indiana University.

“If she gets injured, or if she leaves in free agency someday, the team could lose 70% of its fan base overnight. That’s not sustainable. The Fever need to use Clark’s platform to sell the team, not just her.”

To their credit, the Fever have tried. They’ve posted behind-the-scenes videos of Clark joking with teammates, highlighted Boston’s community work, and pushed Cunningham’s three-point streak on social media. But the poll suggests those efforts are being drowned out by Clark’s cultural dominance.

When asked to name their “favorite Fever moment” this season, 81% of fans cited Clark’s 41-point game against the Lynx—not the team’s 15-point comeback win over the Aces, or Boston’s 20-rebound performance against the Sun.

The Gatorade ad backfire underscores how easy it is to get this wrong. Brands (and teams) are so eager to ride Clark’s wave that they forget what makes her special: her connection to her teammates.

Clark herself addressed the ad in a post-practice interview: “I love Gatorade, but that ad wasn’t us. The Fever are a family. Any success I have is because of them.” Her words were a gentle rebuke—and a reminder that even the biggest stars understand the value of team identity.

For the Fever, the path forward is clear: double down on storytelling that ties Clark to the team. Feature her passing to Boston, not just shooting. Highlight her celebrating with Cunningham after a win, not just her post-game interviews. And use her platform to elevate her teammates—because if fans fall in love with the team Clark plays for, they’ll stay even if she leaves.

The $660K in Clark merch sales is a triumph. The poll showing 72% of fans are there for her alone is a warning. The Fever have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to build a dynasty—but only if they turn Caitlin Clark fans into Fever fans. As Dr. Lee put it: “Clark is the door. The team needs to be the room.”

Last night, after a win over the Sparks, Clark lingered on the court signing autographs. A fan yelled, “Caitlin, you’re the best!” She smiled and pointed to Boston, who was chatting with a group of kids nearby. “Nah,” she said. “We are.”

For a moment, the crowd cheered—not just for Clark, but for the team she loves. It was a small moment, but a hopeful one. The Fever don’t just have a star—they have a leader who gets it. Now it’s up to management to follow her lead.

The Gatorade ad backfired because it missed that truth. The poll should horrify Fever management because it exposes how much work remains. But in Clark’s words—*“We are”—*there’s a blueprint. Greatness doesn’t wait for the crowd. But lasting greatness? It’s built together.