Why do we care so much that Victor Wembanyama cares so much? For as unpredictable as the NBA can be, it doesn’t get many sea changes. That is, big, overhauling alterations to its topography or behavioral patterns – those things take more time. The 2025-2026 Playoffs have been mercurial, surprising, even enlightening, but it’s still not the basketball that’s brought about the most marked development.
It was clear something was different when the tenor of the NBA aggregator infographics changed. Early in the playoffs the images looked familiar, the usual contextless photos of athletes looking gassed or frustrated churned out with blunt, all-caps missives (OUT, ELIMINATED, CHOKED, BUILT DIFFERENT) from NBA media properties’ social platforms and aggregator sites alike. But then, following the first round, there was a blip.
After the Spurs beat the Blazers in a five-game series, Victor Wembanyama answered a postgame question from L’Equipe’s Maxime Aubin about the cliché that showing emotions signals weakness. As that game ended, Wembanyama visibly choked up on the Spurs bench.
“I think it’s first and foremost a fear of judgment,” Wembanyama told Aubin. “Like, this feeling that you have to act a certain way, social codes, I guess. Personally, I refuse to carry the burden of having to hide my emotions.”
In rapid succession, the quote was aggregated, but it wasn’t blunted. At most, the “personally” was lopped off, but infographics of all shapes and sizes (or just two, whatever the optimised dimensions are for Instagram and Twitter) stated, like an awkwardly short affirmation, “I refuse to carry the burden of having to hide my emotions.” There were photos of Wembanyama looking thoughtfully into the middle distance, photos of him screaming in triumph, lots of photos of him crying, face scrunched or buried into the shoulder of a teammate.
That was early May, when the stakes for the Spurs felt light and low. The team has since advanced through two more rounds, besting the Timberwolves in six and dumbfounding the Thunder in seven games of high-flying, arduous, gorgeous basketball. Throughout those 13 contests, Wembanyama’s emotional peaks and valleys have continued to be on prominent display: there have been more tears, more tension, more frustrations and more joy. In the month backdropping those games, the appreciation, even obsession, with Wembanyama’s expressiveness has also grown. Creators outside the traditional NBA media and fan ecosystem have latched on, touting Wembanyama for normalising vulnerability and bringing back demonstratively caring about things. Even within the typically contradictory and oftentimes dour NBA media space of which I am a part, he’s been similarly lauded.
But Wembanyama isn’t the first athlete to articulate how badly he wants to win and to ugly cry when he does. Nor is he the first to grapple with the juxtaposition of that desirousness against the appearance of cold control we still require of our stars. So, what is it about this moment that’s made Wembanyama resonate so deeply, well beyond the NBA? Why do we care so much about Wembanyama caring so much?
Loathe as we are to admit it, we’re creatures of the contemporary world; frogs boiling in whatever noxious soup du jour each new news cycle dumps more ingredients into. Against the backdrop of accumulating global conflicts and the warped language used by our leaders to justify them — “deescalate” into violent escalation, “winding down” that only serves to ramp up — the plain-spoken rejection of a convoluted and long-held status quo hits like a gulp of cold water. Wembanyama handed us the proverbial glass when he rejected the need to be responsible for other people’s discomfort with his emotions, and he’s topped the glass up each time he’s doubled down on being expressive.
There’s a two-fold distinction in Wembanyama’s direct and considered articulation. The first is that he has the perspective of an outsider, because he is one. Basketball is the common ground, a shared language as much as shorthand between him and a majority American NBA fanbase, but his clarity comes from a lifetime prior to now of looking in. The requisite distance needed to hold a place up like a prism and have it catch different streams of light. It was apparent this past winter, when he was one of just a few NBA players to speak up about ICE violently clamping down on people in Minneapolis.
“Every day I wake up and see the news and I’m horrified. It’s crazy that some people might make it sound like it’s acceptable, the murder of civilians. Every day I read the news and I’m asking very deep questions about my own life. But I’m conscious also that saying everything that’s on my mind that would have a cost that’s too great for me right now,” he told media. “I’m a foreigner, I live in this country, I am concerned.”
Asked to clarify if his hesitation to speak came from being a foreigner, Wembanyama said yes.
It was a glimpse into his thought process as a person navigating the delicate intersection he stood at as a French national and non U.S. citizen, as a high-profile athlete, arguably no longer an abstract “future face of the NBA” but the very one actively eclipsing the last generation, and as, foremost, a person who saw injustice and harm and was compelled to speak up. All athletes exist in something of a suspended state of personhood, expected to perform as their outward persona even when they’re off the court. International athletes — especially those in the U.S. in its current sociopolitical climate — exist in a much more temporal state of belonging and tend to keep below the radar.
His articulation has also been bodily. At his stature, his face is a little like a lighthouse. Whatever expression flashes there is impossible to miss. The difference between Wembanyama’s competitive expressiveness and, say, an athlete blowing up on court with vitriol, is that we’re almost more accustomed to the latter. To expressions of frustration and aggression: fights breaking out, equipment being smashed. We’re conditioned to think of these eruptions as part and parcel with the high-stakes and effort of pro sports, proof of concept. But it’s a little bit of crying that, traditionally, had the potential to send the whole system spiraling. At least it was, until a highly visible — 7’4, towering tears — athlete started doing it.
It’s this visibility of emotion, specifically the emotions we equate with sensitivity and vulnerability, that’s so unique when paired with Wembanyama’s expression of them. It reads as oversimplified, even rude (giant man has giant feelings), but when seemingly softer emotions are expressed at billboard-size scale, it’s almost like exposure therapy.
And it’s high-stakes exposure. Prime-time and now, entering the Finals, under the brightest lights and biggest production the NBA has to offer. There’s been a sense that, as the playoffs wore on and the Spurs gained experience, they’d mature, harden. Wembanyama as their leader perhaps most of all. There is, in some corners of fandom and analysis, even a thirst for this. For a young team like San Antonio to get the hope and all these softer expressions — aspiration, jitters, overwhelming joy — roughly knocked out of them.
But this is it. In a world where we’re told not to care, a mindset reinforced daily by the blithe destruction and ravaging of people, their humanity, far and close to home; where a social veer to aggressive, self-serving apathy is threatening to become — if not already — the norm, a demonstrative example of a person extolling the opposite is jarring. That initial jolt can be taken as a threat, or as an opportunity to recalibrate. To be a little more willing to put your own vulnerabilities on display in return.
My interpretation of Wembanyama being put up as face, or saviour, of the league is not that the NBA was lacking the hyper-unique, once-in-an-era skillset he has prior to this; it’s that he offers an alternative to the majority viewing experience of the world writ large right now. You can certainly watch to be entertained, but you can also watch to be infused with a wallop of emotion. The scale of those feelings is difficult to simply switch off with the game, chances are that they will flash over you in the days, months, and more to come. Against disorienting, intolerant darkness, Wembanyama is a roving light to borrow from or burn with.
#care #Victor #Wembanyama #cares
For as unpredictable as the NBA can be, it doesn’t get many sea changes. That is, big, overhauling alterations to its topography or behavioral patterns – those things take more time. The 2025-2026 Playoffs have been mercurial, surprising, even enlightening, but it’s still not the basketball that’s brought about the most marked development.
It was clear something was different when the tenor of the NBA aggregator infographics changed. Early in the playoffs the images looked familiar, the usual contextless photos of athletes looking gassed or frustrated churned out with blunt, all-caps missives (OUT, ELIMINATED, CHOKED, BUILT DIFFERENT) from NBA media properties’ social platforms and aggregator sites alike. But then, following the first round, there was a blip.
After the Spurs beat the Blazers in a five-game series, Victor Wembanyama answered a postgame question from L’Equipe’s Maxime Aubin about the cliché that showing emotions signals weakness. As that game ended, Wembanyama visibly choked up on the Spurs bench.
“I think it’s first and foremost a fear of judgment,” Wembanyama told Aubin. “Like, this feeling that you have to act a certain way, social codes, I guess. Personally, I refuse to carry the burden of having to hide my emotions.”
In rapid succession, the quote was aggregated, but it wasn’t blunted. At most, the “personally” was lopped off, but infographics of all shapes and sizes (or just two, whatever the optimised dimensions are for Instagram and Twitter) stated, like an awkwardly short affirmation, “I refuse to carry the burden of having to hide my emotions.” There were photos of Wembanyama looking thoughtfully into the middle distance, photos of him screaming in triumph, lots of photos of him crying, face scrunched or buried into the shoulder of a teammate.
That was early May, when the stakes for the Spurs felt light and low. The team has since advanced through two more rounds, besting the Timberwolves in six and dumbfounding the Thunder in seven games of high-flying, arduous, gorgeous basketball. Throughout those 13 contests, Wembanyama’s emotional peaks and valleys have continued to be on prominent display: there have been more tears, more tension, more frustrations and more joy. In the month backdropping those games, the appreciation, even obsession, with Wembanyama’s expressiveness has also grown. Creators outside the traditional NBA media and fan ecosystem have latched on, touting Wembanyama for normalising vulnerability and bringing back demonstratively caring about things. Even within the typically contradictory and oftentimes dour NBA media space of which I am a part, he’s been similarly lauded.
But Wembanyama isn’t the first athlete to articulate how badly he wants to win and to ugly cry when he does. Nor is he the first to grapple with the juxtaposition of that desirousness against the appearance of cold control we still require of our stars. So, what is it about this moment that’s made Wembanyama resonate so deeply, well beyond the NBA? Why do we care so much about Wembanyama caring so much?
Loathe as we are to admit it, we’re creatures of the contemporary world; frogs boiling in whatever noxious soup du jour each new news cycle dumps more ingredients into. Against the backdrop of accumulating global conflicts and the warped language used by our leaders to justify them — “deescalate” into violent escalation, “winding down” that only serves to ramp up — the plain-spoken rejection of a convoluted and long-held status quo hits like a gulp of cold water. Wembanyama handed us the proverbial glass when he rejected the need to be responsible for other people’s discomfort with his emotions, and he’s topped the glass up each time he’s doubled down on being expressive.
There’s a two-fold distinction in Wembanyama’s direct and considered articulation. The first is that he has the perspective of an outsider, because he is one. Basketball is the common ground, a shared language as much as shorthand between him and a majority American NBA fanbase, but his clarity comes from a lifetime prior to now of looking in. The requisite distance needed to hold a place up like a prism and have it catch different streams of light. It was apparent this past winter, when he was one of just a few NBA players to speak up about ICE violently clamping down on people in Minneapolis.
“Every day I wake up and see the news and I’m horrified. It’s crazy that some people might make it sound like it’s acceptable, the murder of civilians. Every day I read the news and I’m asking very deep questions about my own life. But I’m conscious also that saying everything that’s on my mind that would have a cost that’s too great for me right now,” he told media. “I’m a foreigner, I live in this country, I am concerned.”
Asked to clarify if his hesitation to speak came from being a foreigner, Wembanyama said yes.
It was a glimpse into his thought process as a person navigating the delicate intersection he stood at as a French national and non U.S. citizen, as a high-profile athlete, arguably no longer an abstract “future face of the NBA” but the very one actively eclipsing the last generation, and as, foremost, a person who saw injustice and harm and was compelled to speak up. All athletes exist in something of a suspended state of personhood, expected to perform as their outward persona even when they’re off the court. International athletes — especially those in the U.S. in its current sociopolitical climate — exist in a much more temporal state of belonging and tend to keep below the radar.
His articulation has also been bodily. At his stature, his face is a little like a lighthouse. Whatever expression flashes there is impossible to miss. The difference between Wembanyama’s competitive expressiveness and, say, an athlete blowing up on court with vitriol, is that we’re almost more accustomed to the latter. To expressions of frustration and aggression: fights breaking out, equipment being smashed. We’re conditioned to think of these eruptions as part and parcel with the high-stakes and effort of pro sports, proof of concept. But it’s a little bit of crying that, traditionally, had the potential to send the whole system spiraling. At least it was, until a highly visible — 7’4, towering tears — athlete started doing it.
It’s this visibility of emotion, specifically the emotions we equate with sensitivity and vulnerability, that’s so unique when paired with Wembanyama’s expression of them. It reads as oversimplified, even rude (giant man has giant feelings), but when seemingly softer emotions are expressed at billboard-size scale, it’s almost like exposure therapy.
And it’s high-stakes exposure. Prime-time and now, entering the Finals, under the brightest lights and biggest production the NBA has to offer. There’s been a sense that, as the playoffs wore on and the Spurs gained experience, they’d mature, harden. Wembanyama as their leader perhaps most of all. There is, in some corners of fandom and analysis, even a thirst for this. For a young team like San Antonio to get the hope and all these softer expressions — aspiration, jitters, overwhelming joy — roughly knocked out of them.
But this is it. In a world where we’re told not to care, a mindset reinforced daily by the blithe destruction and ravaging of people, their humanity, far and close to home; where a social veer to aggressive, self-serving apathy is threatening to become — if not already — the norm, a demonstrative example of a person extolling the opposite is jarring. That initial jolt can be taken as a threat, or as an opportunity to recalibrate. To be a little more willing to put your own vulnerabilities on display in return.
My interpretation of Wembanyama being put up as face, or saviour, of the league is not that the NBA was lacking the hyper-unique, once-in-an-era skillset he has prior to this; it’s that he offers an alternative to the majority viewing experience of the world writ large right now. You can certainly watch to be entertained, but you can also watch to be infused with a wallop of emotion. The scale of those feelings is difficult to simply switch off with the game, chances are that they will flash over you in the days, months, and more to come. Against disorienting, intolerant darkness, Wembanyama is a roving light to borrow from or burn with.
![Aliyah Boston has become the leading voice of the Fever INDIANAPOLIS — It’s the third quarter of a late May game against the Valkyries and the Fever are looking to cap off a third-quarter rally that saw them overturn a seven-point deficit to take the lead.With 20 seconds remaining, a miscommunication by the Golden State defense allows Kelsey Mitchell to find Raven Johnson in the corner for a three that ignites the home crowd.In a moment that could hardly better define the highs and lows associated with playing rookies, Johnson’s excitement after the shot quickly transforms into overzealousness. Without a single player on either team having yet crossed half court, she fouls Veronica Burton 94 feet from the basket to send her to the free throw line.As cliché of a rookie mistake as it was, it was also a perfect teaching moment, and Aliyah Boston took advantage.Standing at half court, she waits for Johnson, puts her arms on her shoulders and offers advice. Despite being just 24 years old and in her fourth year in the league, Boston has become one of the team’s leaders.Boston isn’t new to the role. By her own admission, she’s a natural talker. But talking is not leading, nor is it necessarily communicating, either. Those are skills she’s had to develop over the years, something she credits her college coach, Dawn Staley, for helping kickstart.It’s also something that came along by necessity. When injuries ravaged the Fever last season, Boston became the point guard of sorts at times. Point guards are vocal leaders, so Boston had to assume that role as well.All those experiences and circumstances have led to this season, where Boston has blossomed into a leader and a constant voice for the Fever, whether in practice, the locker room, a huddle or during the game.In this moment against the Valkyries, it’s allowed her to help refocus Johnson in a tight game. The results are immediate as Johnson opens the fourth quarter with a flurry of activity, scoring or assisting on the first seven points of the period for Indiana — including setting up Boston for a layup — as the lead extended to double digits en route to a victory.Leadership is often demonstrated in the moments behind the scenes and away from the cameras, but that game and that moment offered a rare chance for fans to see how impactful it can be.It’s been clear for multiple years that the Fever have three stars in Caitlin Clark, Boston and Mitchell.But sometimes even if something is implied, it’s still best to make it known. So, this preseason, head coach Stephanie White took aside the trio and told them the obvious.“I think we’ve kind of known that from the jump that it’s really just like, we got to — the three of us like as a unit — we have to make sure that we lead the team in the right direction,” Boston told SBNation of White’s preseason message. “I think it’s always different, especially last year with [Clark] being out, so it was like kind of just finding that group again. But I think, honestly, like we’re doing a pretty good job of it.”Setting aside the multiple All-Star selections in the last two seasons from the three, they are also among the most tenured players on the roster. The roster turnover since the arrival of Boston and Clark in consecutive drafts leaves them as three of the four longest-serving Fever.INDIANAPOLIS, IN – JULY 19: Aliyah Boston #7, Caitlin Clark #22, and Kelsey Mitchell #0 of Team Clark pose for a portrait before the game against Team Collier during the AT&T WNBA All-Star Game 2025 on July 19, 2025 at Gainbridge Fieldhouse in Indianapolis, Indiana. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges and agrees that, by downloading and or using this Photograph, user is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License Agreement. Mandatory Copyright Notice: Copyright 2025 NBAE (Photo by Stephen Gosling/NBAE via Getty Images) NBAE via Getty ImagesFor Boston, even if talking comes naturally, White’s message was a reassurance that the team needed her to speak up. She took that vote of confidence and ran with it this season, and her team has taken notice.“I think the thing that really stands out is Aliyah’s constantly the one talking in our huddles,” Clark said. “She’s the first voice we have there…She has a very strong voice and you constantly hear it whether it’s in-game, whether it’s on the bench in a timeout, whether that’s in the locker room on not just game days, but even on practice days too.”Being the vocal leader also hasn’t taken away from Boston’s production either. If anything, the opposite has been true.She’s averaging 17.2 points, the most of her career, while still grabbing 8.6 rebounds per contest. Much of her jump in scoring can be attributed to her improvement as both a 3-point shooter, where she’s shooting 44.7% on 2.5 attempts per game, and at the free throw line, where she’s shooting 83.8%.“I think talking about the game is always great and I think it allows you to just see and understand it a lot more, understand teams, player tendencies,” Boston said. “I think the more that you watch, the more you talk about it, it just makes it clearer.”As great as Boston has been this season, ask just about anyone with the Fever, and they’ll point to last season as the moment Boston took a leap in many ways.It was a year marred by injuries for the Fever. As quickly as the team would make an in-season signing, another player would fall by the wayside with the point guard position being the most common point of attrition.To help alleviate the burden of the rotating new faces, the Fever did what they do so often: lean on Boston.“At times she was our point guard last year,” Clark said. “And if you’re the point guard, you got to communicate a lot, you got to know what’s going on, you got to be on the same page as a coach and you have to be able to get your teammates where they need to be.”Boston became one of only three players in league history to have at least 350 rebounds and 150 assists in a season last year. She also realized how impactful she can still be as a communicator even if she wasn’t a point guard.“I think that just my positioning, how we wanted to play, I think that definitely was a super big part of it,” Boston told SBNation. “So for this year, I’m just trying to make sure that I continue on that path.”I think you can still lead from the post. I know the guards have the ball a lot, but I think being able to just communicate and talk about what I’m seeing is always going to be crucial.”On top of everything else, the interplay between Boston and Clark remains one of the most reliable actions for any team in the league. What continues to make Boston particularly difficult to defend is her passing ability. As quickly as Clark can find Boston on a roll to the rim, the latter can hit the former on a backcut.Boston is one of only two players in the league this season with a total rebound percentage and an assist percentage both above 20%. The Fever are putting the ball in her hands more than ever before, evidenced by her career-high 27.8% usage percentage, and she’s repaying them with career numbers.“She’s solid,” White said. “She doesn’t get too high, she doesn’t get too low. Certainly, every player gets frustrated at times, but she’s an elite communicator. You trust her to make the right play and to make the right read. She brings people together. She’s a connector, which is so important, and she just continues to lead by example and be a vocal leader for our team.”Those lessons learned from a challenging 2025 season are paying dividends for Boston in 2026. As a team, the Fever have struggled to find consistency this season. Offensively, Indiana is averaging the most points per game in the league. Defensively, they’re allowing the third most.Not surprisingly, highs and lows have followed them. A recent four-game win streak included a game-winner from Clark in Washington. But that streak came shortly after an ugly loss in Portland, when they trailed by as many as 26.What remains most consistent throughout it all, though, is Aliyah Boston, who just keeps improving. #Aliyah #Boston #leading #voice #Fever](https://i2.wp.com/platform.sbnation.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2026/06/gettyimages-2225167617.jpg?quality=90&strip=all&crop=0%2C0%2C100%2C100&w=2400&ssl=1 "Aliyah Boston has become the leading voice of the Fever INDIANAPOLIS — It’s the third quarter of a late May game against the Valkyries and the Fever are looking to cap off a third-quarter rally that saw them overturn a seven-point deficit to take the lead.With 20 seconds remaining, a miscommunication by the Golden State defense allows Kelsey Mitchell to find Raven Johnson in the corner for a three that ignites the home crowd.In a moment that could hardly better define the highs and lows associated with playing rookies, Johnson’s excitement after the shot quickly transforms into overzealousness. Without a single player on either team having yet crossed half court, she fouls Veronica Burton 94 feet from the basket to send her to the free throw line.As cliché of a rookie mistake as it was, it was also a perfect teaching moment, and Aliyah Boston took advantage.Standing at half court, she waits for Johnson, puts her arms on her shoulders and offers advice. Despite being just 24 years old and in her fourth year in the league, Boston has become one of the team’s leaders.Boston isn’t new to the role. By her own admission, she’s a natural talker. But talking is not leading, nor is it necessarily communicating, either. Those are skills she’s had to develop over the years, something she credits her college coach, Dawn Staley, for helping kickstart.It’s also something that came along by necessity. When injuries ravaged the Fever last season, Boston became the point guard of sorts at times. Point guards are vocal leaders, so Boston had to assume that role as well.All those experiences and circumstances have led to this season, where Boston has blossomed into a leader and a constant voice for the Fever, whether in practice, the locker room, a huddle or during the game.In this moment against the Valkyries, it’s allowed her to help refocus Johnson in a tight game. The results are immediate as Johnson opens the fourth quarter with a flurry of activity, scoring or assisting on the first seven points of the period for Indiana — including setting up Boston for a layup — as the lead extended to double digits en route to a victory.Leadership is often demonstrated in the moments behind the scenes and away from the cameras, but that game and that moment offered a rare chance for fans to see how impactful it can be.It’s been clear for multiple years that the Fever have three stars in Caitlin Clark, Boston and Mitchell.But sometimes even if something is implied, it’s still best to make it known. So, this preseason, head coach Stephanie White took aside the trio and told them the obvious.“I think we’ve kind of known that from the jump that it’s really just like, we got to — the three of us like as a unit — we have to make sure that we lead the team in the right direction,” Boston told SBNation of White’s preseason message. “I think it’s always different, especially last year with [Clark] being out, so it was like kind of just finding that group again. But I think, honestly, like we’re doing a pretty good job of it.”Setting aside the multiple All-Star selections in the last two seasons from the three, they are also among the most tenured players on the roster. The roster turnover since the arrival of Boston and Clark in consecutive drafts leaves them as three of the four longest-serving Fever.INDIANAPOLIS, IN – JULY 19: Aliyah Boston #7, Caitlin Clark #22, and Kelsey Mitchell #0 of Team Clark pose for a portrait before the game against Team Collier during the AT&T WNBA All-Star Game 2025 on July 19, 2025 at Gainbridge Fieldhouse in Indianapolis, Indiana. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges and agrees that, by downloading and or using this Photograph, user is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License Agreement. Mandatory Copyright Notice: Copyright 2025 NBAE (Photo by Stephen Gosling/NBAE via Getty Images) NBAE via Getty ImagesFor Boston, even if talking comes naturally, White’s message was a reassurance that the team needed her to speak up. She took that vote of confidence and ran with it this season, and her team has taken notice.“I think the thing that really stands out is Aliyah’s constantly the one talking in our huddles,” Clark said. “She’s the first voice we have there…She has a very strong voice and you constantly hear it whether it’s in-game, whether it’s on the bench in a timeout, whether that’s in the locker room on not just game days, but even on practice days too.”Being the vocal leader also hasn’t taken away from Boston’s production either. If anything, the opposite has been true.She’s averaging 17.2 points, the most of her career, while still grabbing 8.6 rebounds per contest. Much of her jump in scoring can be attributed to her improvement as both a 3-point shooter, where she’s shooting 44.7% on 2.5 attempts per game, and at the free throw line, where she’s shooting 83.8%.“I think talking about the game is always great and I think it allows you to just see and understand it a lot more, understand teams, player tendencies,” Boston said. “I think the more that you watch, the more you talk about it, it just makes it clearer.”As great as Boston has been this season, ask just about anyone with the Fever, and they’ll point to last season as the moment Boston took a leap in many ways.It was a year marred by injuries for the Fever. As quickly as the team would make an in-season signing, another player would fall by the wayside with the point guard position being the most common point of attrition.To help alleviate the burden of the rotating new faces, the Fever did what they do so often: lean on Boston.“At times she was our point guard last year,” Clark said. “And if you’re the point guard, you got to communicate a lot, you got to know what’s going on, you got to be on the same page as a coach and you have to be able to get your teammates where they need to be.”Boston became one of only three players in league history to have at least 350 rebounds and 150 assists in a season last year. She also realized how impactful she can still be as a communicator even if she wasn’t a point guard.“I think that just my positioning, how we wanted to play, I think that definitely was a super big part of it,” Boston told SBNation. “So for this year, I’m just trying to make sure that I continue on that path.”I think you can still lead from the post. I know the guards have the ball a lot, but I think being able to just communicate and talk about what I’m seeing is always going to be crucial.”On top of everything else, the interplay between Boston and Clark remains one of the most reliable actions for any team in the league. What continues to make Boston particularly difficult to defend is her passing ability. As quickly as Clark can find Boston on a roll to the rim, the latter can hit the former on a backcut.Boston is one of only two players in the league this season with a total rebound percentage and an assist percentage both above 20%. The Fever are putting the ball in her hands more than ever before, evidenced by her career-high 27.8% usage percentage, and she’s repaying them with career numbers.“She’s solid,” White said. “She doesn’t get too high, she doesn’t get too low. Certainly, every player gets frustrated at times, but she’s an elite communicator. You trust her to make the right play and to make the right read. She brings people together. She’s a connector, which is so important, and she just continues to lead by example and be a vocal leader for our team.”Those lessons learned from a challenging 2025 season are paying dividends for Boston in 2026. As a team, the Fever have struggled to find consistency this season. Offensively, Indiana is averaging the most points per game in the league. Defensively, they’re allowing the third most.Not surprisingly, highs and lows have followed them. A recent four-game win streak included a game-winner from Clark in Washington. But that streak came shortly after an ugly loss in Portland, when they trailed by as many as 26.What remains most consistent throughout it all, though, is Aliyah Boston, who just keeps improving. #Aliyah #Boston #leading #voice #Fever")
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