
When Sydney Colson joined the Indiana Fever, she expected pressure, attention, and maybe even some controversy. What she did not expect â and what she openly revealed for the first time on Aliyah Bostonâs podcast â was the sheer volume of hate that hit her the moment she stepped into the locker room. Colson, one of the WNBAâs most charismatic and universally liked veterans, said she had never dealt with anything like what she faced in Indiana. And her honesty has sent shockwaves across the league.
Colson admitted that ever since she signed with the Fever, she has been on the receiving end of more negativity than at any point in her entire career â not for poor performance, not for trash talk, not for controversy â but simply because she joined Indianaâs roster.

For a player known league-wide as one of the funniest, most uplifting personalities in womenâs basketball, the sudden shift was jarring. She said that throughout her career, even when some people didnât âgetâ her humor, they still respected her, still liked her, still admired her work. But after signing with the Fever, the tone flipped instantly. People were openly disapproving. Strangers threw slurs at her. Longtime supporters suddenly treated her like a villain.
And Colson says she did nothing to deserve it except wear the wrong jersey.

Her comments confirm what Fever fans have known all season long: Indiana has become the most hated team in the WNBA â not because of their record, not because of their style of play, but because of a single player who transformed the entire league overnight: Caitlin Clark.
Colson didnât blame Clark. In fact, she admitted she wanted to join the Fever. She liked the culture. She liked the energy. She respected Kelsey Mitchell. She felt she would get along great with Clark. This wasnât a desperate signing â this was a choice. A move she believed in.
But that choice came with consequences she didnât expect.
She walked into a storm of animosity so intense that even other veteran players warned her quietly. Fans, rivals, online trolls â the negativity came from everywhere. Colson said she entered the season knowing Indiana would draw attention, but the level of hate? It was âunlike anything she had ever experienced.â
It wasnât rational. It wasnât normal competitiveness. It was personal. And it was vicious.
And then came the injury.

Colson tore her meniscus, sidelining her during a season when she wanted to integrate and prove her value. An injury is hard under any circumstances, but dealing with that while being bombarded by hostility? Colson said it forced her to reevaluate everything.

Yet somehow, instead of letting the hate break her, she used it to become a more vocal leader. She started paying closer attention to her teammates â especially those who, like her, were targeted just for being there.
And thatâs where her comments hit hardest:
Colson made it clear she wasnât the only one.
Her Fever teammates â from starters to bench players â were all dealing with unfair, irrational negativity. Even players like Lexie Hull, a quiet, hardworking role player who never starts drama, found herself receiving harassment simply for being Caitlin Clarkâs friend.
Thatâs how deep and irrational the hate toward the Fever has become.
Colson also pointed out a brutal truth that many have been too afraid to say: some parts of the WNBA community donât actually want Indiana to succeed. She said it outright. There are fans â and maybe even players â who resent the Feverâs sudden relevance. They resent the attention. They resent the spotlight. They resent Caitlin Clark for dragging the entire league into mainstream conversation.
Some people, Colson suggests, are more comfortable when the league is niche, quiet, and unchallenged. The Fever disrupt that. Clark disrupts that. And anyone standing beside her becomes collateral damage.
Her analogy to DeWanna Bonner wasnât accidental. Bonner left the Fever years ago â and instantly the hate toward her vanished. She was embraced again. Celebrated. Supported. All because she wasnât wearing Indiana colors anymore.
That says everything.
Colson saw something else, too. She noticed how some teams treated the Fever â with arrogance. With dismissal. As if Indiana were a one-woman show. Those teams got embarrassed. Because even when Clark was sidelined, the Fever played hard, executed well, and stole games from teams who didnât respect them. But the narrative didnât change. The disrespect didnât stop.
Then she addressed something modern athletes know too well: the psychological warfare of social media. Colson warned younger players not to scroll through their âFor Youâ pages after games. The algorithm surfaces hate first â the loudest, angriest voices. And when youâre already fighting an uphill battle, seeing that can break you.
It didnât break her.
Colson said she realized something powerful: When people hate you for no reason, youâre exactly where youâre supposed to be. She took the negativity as confirmation. She saw the bigger picture. She understood the real story wasnât that she changed â but that some people hated what the Fever represented.

Her resilience didnât just help her; it helped her teammates, who were navigating a level of scrutiny the WNBA has never seen before.
Colsonâs comments pull back the curtain on a league dealing with growing pains. A league that desperately needs to embrace its rising stardom but is instead dividing itself. A league that should be celebrating unprecedented popularity but is instead punishing the players who brought it there.
What Sydney Colson revealed isnât just about Indiana.

Itâs about the WNBAâs future.
And whether the league is ready to grow â or willing to sabotage itself to stay comfortable.
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