The moment didn’t feel like a substitution.
It seemed like something was being erased.
Third quarter. Chicago down 28. The Phoenix crowd was on its feet. Camila Cardoso looked over her shoulder. Reese looked at the scorer’s table. No hand signals. No clipboards. No conversation.
Then the bench was full. And the court was empty.
No players.
No belief.
The sky was not turning its scale.
They gave up.
And for the first time since Angel Reese turned pro – she didn’t fight him.
No timeouts. No rally. Just silence.
Phoenix came out firing. The Mercury hit five threes in the first six minutes of the third. The lead ballooned to 76–48. Coach Tyler Marsh didn’t call a timeout. Didn’t rally the team. Didn’t yell.
He just waved.
And the beginners were gone.
Angel Reese. Camila Cardoso. Dana Evans. Disparu.
A side camera caught Cardoso whispering something to Reese.
Reese didn’t respond.
She just sat down. And stayed there.
For the rest of the game.
The statistics were bad. The signals were worse.
Reese:
9 points
2 rebounds
2 assists
-25 plus/minus
Cardoso:
17 points
7 out of 9 shots
Zero recognition
But the numbers weren’t the story. The looks were.
Cardoso explained the defenders—and no one turned.
Reese posted up—and never got the ball.
At one point, both raised their hands for a rebound. It bounced between them. Neither.
“They weren’t frozen,” one scout said. “They were disconnected. From the system. From the game. From each other.”
“He didn’t train. He evacuated.”
Marsh’s decision stunned even the Phoenix bench.
“You could see it,” said a Mercury assistant. “He wasn’t coaching. He was venting.”
Marsh later blamed it on “consecutive planning” and “player protection.”
Nobody believed it.
Not after watching him bury the team’s leading scorers before the start of the fourth quarter.
A Sky staff member, speaking about the record, said Marsh had a moment midway through the third where he muttered: “I’m not doing this again.”
The staff member added:
“It wasn’t a rotation. It was a surrender.”
Cardoso: production without electricity
Camila Cardoso was the only effective piece of the system that night.
But her statistics didn’t save her.
“I’ve never seen a rookie this consistent be treated like a role player,” said a former WNBA coach who watches courtside. “Cardoso was dominant. And invisible.”
She never got to the line.
She never raised her voice.
But she never looked surprised either.
When she was benched, she didn’t argue.
She just grabbed a towel, sat down, and reproached her arms.
A camera caught something in his breath.
Several online Lipon readers agree: it wasn’t nice.
Angel Reese: No words. But a statement.
She entered the post-match press conference as she always does – collected, ready, rehearsed.
“I’m not playing well. I know that. But I’m showing up. I’m taking responsibility.”
The room remained silent.
No follow-up on her being benched.
No mention of the dashboard.
Just a faint whisper when she said:
“I know my teammates believe in me.”
A long pause followed.
Because the tape told a different story.
The gang that told the truth
At 7:41 in the second quarter, Reese sets a screen for Dana Evans.
Evans doesn’t use it.
At 3:12 in the third, Reese displays twice. Both times, Evans resets the play without looking his way.
At 1:34, Reese and Cardoso both signal to light up the defense.
Nobody does it.
The Mercury hit three more.
And Marsh looks at the ground.
“You can’t coach a team that’s stopped being a team,” said one WNBA scout. “You can only try to survive it.”
From builder to rescue
Tyler Marsh was not brought in to keep a rebuild.
He was brought in to build a core. Mold stars. Shape something dangerous.
Instead?
He explains the 21-point losses and the hopes of the bench stars in front of the ESPN cameras.
He looks at assets where three players are not moving.
He offers phrases like “we are learning” while the fan base shouts “we are falling apart.”
It was not a development.
It was a detachment.
Fans saw it first
Social media didn’t just react to the loss. It dissected body language.
A video titled “Cardoso Refuses to Help Reese Up” reached 1.2 million views in 9 hours.
Reddit threads posted still images of Reese isolated under the rim while teammates reset the play from 15 feet away.
TikTok theorists speculated that “Marsh is benched to survive, not coach.”
The phrase “triple single” is trending on Twitter.
The same goes for “Skywalking Off.”
And then came the comments:
“They didn’t lose. They gave up.”
“That’s not growth. That’s rot.”
“At this point, the bench is safer than the court.”
A locker room in case of a quiet collapse
Insiders describe the team’s atmosphere as “tense,” “cut off,” and “performative.”
One league source said Cardoso has been distancing himself since Game 6. Another claims Marsh has privately admitted he “doesn’t know how to get them to believe in him again.”
No shouting.
No infighting.
Just silence.
The most dangerous kind.
“There’s nothing stronger than a team that has stopped talking,” said a former WNBA player. “Because that means they’ve already said everything they needed to. And nothing has changed.”
The frost
Angel Reese didn’t complain.
Cardoso didn’t react.
Marsh didn’t fight.
And the sky?
They didn’t rivet.
They withdrew.
And now fans are wondering:
Is this a rebuild or a breakdown?
Is Reese still the leader, or just the face?
Can Marsh fix this problem – or has he already stopped?
Because when the starters don’t come back…
When the bench doesn’t move…
And when no one makes eye contact…
You’re not watching a game anymore.
You are watching a system collapse in real time
DISCLAIMER:
This article is based on publicly available footage, press conference transcripts, and commentary from WNBA analysts, media insiders, and team observers. Selected dialogue and interactions have been reconstructed based on visible body language, rotation patterns, and player behavior during the game. All perspectives presented reflect public performances, media interpretations, and fan reactions in response to observed events.
