It’s not every day that the worlds of comedy and women’s basketball collide in such headline-grabbing fashion, but this week, the ever-outspoken Katt Williams managed to do just that, taking a cheeky swipe at WNBA star Angel Reese during a podcast appearance that’s since set social media abuzz. For those unfamiliar with the American comedy landscape, Williams is no stranger to controversy or the art of the well-timed jab; his tongue is razor-sharp, his wit quick, and he’s made a career out of poking fun at just about everyone—sometimes to their faces. But even by his standards, the quip aimed at Reese felt like a new frontier, blending the worlds of sport and stand-up in a way that’s as revealing as it is entertaining.

It all unfolded on Carmelo Anthony’s ‘7PM in Brooklyn’ podcast, a show that’s fast becoming a must-watch for anyone interested in the intersection of sport, culture, and celebrity. Williams, whose previous appearance on Shannon Sharpe’s ‘Club Shay Shay’ had left a trail of scorched earth in its wake thanks to his unfiltered opinions about fellow comedians, seemed almost subdued this time around. Yet, true to form, he couldn’t resist a little mischief. When the conversation turned to basketball—a subject that, by his own admission, isn’t exactly his forte—Williams delivered a line that would soon be replayed, retweeted, and dissected across the internet: “I’m 5’5, so I don’t have any above-the-rim experience. But I’m not Angel Reese—I’m 99% on my layups because I can’t afford to miss them. My layup is my dunk.”

It was classic Katt: self-deprecating, biting, and, crucially, laced with just enough truth to sting. In a single sentence, he managed to poke fun at both himself and one of the brightest young stars in women’s basketball, all while tapping into a wider conversation about the scrutiny athletes—particularly female athletes—face in the age of social media. For Angel Reese, the comment was just the latest in a long line of criticisms she’s faced since bursting onto the national stage. Known for her tenacity on the boards and her knack for racking up rebounds—often off her own missed shots—Reese has been both celebrated and derided for her style of play. Some call her relentless; others, less charitably, have dubbed her “Mebounds,” a tongue-in-cheek reference to her habit of following up her own misses.

But here’s where the story takes a turn that’s as modern as it is inspiring. Rather than bristle at the nickname or let the criticism get under her skin, Reese did something remarkable: she embraced it. She trademarked the phrase “Mebounds,” slapped it on merchandise, and turned what could have been a source of embarrassment into a thriving personal brand. In an era where athletes are often told to “stick to sports,” Reese’s move was a masterclass in self-empowerment, a reminder that in today’s media landscape, the line between mockery and marketing is thinner than ever.

Of course, none of this is to say that the criticism doesn’t sting. For all her success—Reese recently graced the cover of the WNBA edition of NBA 2K26, a milestone that would have been unthinkable for a women’s player just a few years ago—she remains a lightning rod for controversy. Her detractors are quick to point out her missed layups, her sometimes erratic shooting, and her tendency to play with a chip on her shoulder. But her supporters, and there are many, see something else: a player who refuses to be defined by her shortcomings, who plays with heart and hustle, and who’s rewriting the rules for what it means to be a female athlete in America.

It’s this tension—between criticism and celebration, between expectation and reality—that makes the Williams-Reese moment so fascinating. On the one hand, you have a comedian whose entire shtick is built on calling out others’ flaws; on the other, a young woman who’s made a career out of proving her doubters wrong. In many ways, their exchange is a microcosm of the broader cultural conversation playing out around women’s sports today. The rise of social media has made it easier than ever for fans and critics alike to weigh in on every missed shot, every turnover, every perceived misstep. For athletes like Reese, the pressure is relentless, the spotlight unyielding.

And yet, there’s something undeniably refreshing about the way Reese has handled it all. Where others might have wilted, she’s flourished. Where some would have lashed out, she’s laughed. Her response to Williams’ jab was characteristically understated: no angry tweets, no public feuds, just a quiet confidence that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of resilience that’s hard-won, forged in the crucible of high-stakes competition and the glare of the national media. And it’s a big part of why she’s become such a compelling figure, both on and off the court.

There’s also a lesson here about the nature of fame in 2025. In a world where every moment is captured, shared, and scrutinised, the ability to control your own narrative is more valuable than ever. Reese has shown a remarkable knack for doing just that, turning potential liabilities into assets and using her platform to build a brand that’s as distinctive as it is authentic. The “Mebounds” merchandise is just the beginning; with her charisma, work ethic, and willingness to engage with fans, it’s easy to imagine her parlaying her on-court success into a lucrative career off it as well.

Of course, none of this would matter if Reese weren’t also a damn good basketball player. Her numbers speak for themselves: a rebounding machine with a nose for the ball and a motor that never quits. She may miss a few layups along the way, but she’ll almost always be there to clean up her own mess, turning second chances into points and hustle plays into highlights. It’s a style of play that’s as entertaining as it is effective, and it’s helped make her one of the most recognisable faces in the WNBA.

The irony, of course, is that Williams’ joke—intended as a throwaway line—has only served to highlight just how far Reese has come. In a league that’s still fighting for respect and recognition, she’s carved out a niche for herself as both a player and a personality, someone who’s as comfortable in front of a microphone as she is under the basket. And in doing so, she’s helped change the conversation around women’s sports, proving that you don’t have to fit a particular mould to succeed.

It’s also worth noting that the response to Williams’ comments has been overwhelmingly supportive of Reese. Social media, that ever-fickle barometer of public opinion, has rallied around her, sharing photos, videos, and messages of encouragement. Some have even suggested that she should trademark “Above-The-Rim Experience,” a playful nod to Williams’ original joke. Whether or not she takes their advice, one thing is clear: Reese is in on the joke, and she’s laughing all the way to the bank.

In the end, perhaps that’s the real story here. In a world that’s all too eager to tear down its heroes, Angel Reese has found a way to turn criticism into currency, to transform slights into strengths. She’s a reminder that greatness isn’t about never making mistakes, but about how you respond when you do. And if her journey so far is any indication, she’s only just getting started.

As for Williams, he’ll no doubt continue to do what he does best: poke, prod, and provoke, always searching for the next punchline. But for once, it seems, the joke may be on him. Because in Angel Reese, he’s found a target who’s not only willing to take a hit, but who knows how to turn it into a win. And in the fast-moving, ever-changing world of modern sport, that may be the most impressive layup of all.