There Can Be Only One

What’s an MVP?

Best and most valuable are not the same thing. You can be the best in the league at one box on the sheet and still not be the most valuable player on your own team. Most valuable is not a scoring title with better stationery.

A true scorer changes the scoreboard when the ball is in her hands. That is a real gift. Mitchell has it. Nobody who watches basketball is going to pretend she doesn’t. She can get her own shot. She can get hot. This year she has been one of the two or three most reliable buckets in the league. That isn’t nothing.

It also isn’t a championship by itself.

Follow this part. It isn’t just basketball. Football, soccer, any team sport — one person filling up a stat sheet does not equal five people who know what to do when the defense loads up on that person. If prolific scoring won titles by itself, Iowa would have two banners with Clark’s name on them. One great player is not five great players. Scoring almost at will is only one of the things that go into a banner.

Mitchell is not a statue. She works. She is all over the floor. Bottom line, she is a finisher. The offense can run to her. It does not have to run through her. It never has. That does not shrink what she is. She is a shooting guard who plays the position better than most.

Is that the definition of an MVP?

No. That’s the definition of a star who needs the ball delivered. An MVP is the reason the delivery system exists. She is the jersey the night reorganizes around.

Clark’s box is messy on purpose: points, assists, decisions off the dribble, a logo three that makes a defender choose between the shot and the pass. She can pump-fake the bomb, dump it to Mitchell, and leave a coach talking to himself.

A 34-point night from Mitchell is a great night. A 34-and-12 night from Clark is a different species of night. One filled a bucket. The other decided who got to shoot.

Clark is not greedy. She will take her shots. She has a short memory and no fear. Seeing the floor is the gift. Using it for somebody else is the value. You do not pile up assists in transition by hunting your own name. You do it because you would rather the right person shoot than be the only person shooting.

Clark could be the highest scorer on this team — maybe in the league — if that was the job she wanted. Lisa Bluder gets credit for the player who showed up in the W: the one who learned to trust the room. If you ask me, she is too unselfish. There are nights when she has the logo look and dumps it off to Mitchell, Cunningham, or Boston on that pick-and-roll. My wife rolls her eyes when I yell at the television, “Ah, for crying out loud, Caitlin, just take the shot!”

August 20 in Dallas. Wings 91, Fever 85. Clark: 10 points on 4-of-15, nine assists. Mitchell: 37. High scorer for Indiana. High scorer in the building. Read that again. The Fever’s best bucket-getter dropped 37, and they still lost. Coaching had more to do with that night than Clark’s point total. That is the next piece. This one is the definition.

After the game, Jose Fernandez said the quiet part out loud, maybe without meaning to. That is what an opposing coach thinks an MVP looks like:

“Well, we wanted to get it out of her hands, you know, I mean, pick-and-roll situation in the middle of the floor, she’s so good. So, if it was going to be on the side of the floor, we wanted to get it out of her hands, make other people make shots.”

He said “get it out of her hands” twice. He was talking about Clark. Not Mitchell. He did not care how many Mitchell was going to score as long as the possession did not start with 22. Mitchell’s 37 was the plan working. Not failing.

Natalie Nakase said the same thing a year earlier. Before Golden State played Indiana in 2025: pick her up high, force her left, keep her out of rhythm, make her see multiple bodies. Blitz the pick-and-roll. Get the ball out of her hands. Same plan. Different year. Different coach. Same jersey.

You do not scheme a whole night to take the ball from a player whose only gift is scoring. You scheme that night for the player who forces everyone else to make a decision. There are not many in this league — in any league, in any sport — who see the game that way. Jordan. Brady. LeBron. Bird. Kobe. Pistol Pete. A short list. Comparatively speaking, almost nobody.

“There can be only one,” said the Highlander, and then he brought the sword down.

MVP² is a peace treaty. The Fever are asking fans to vote Clark and Mitchell as co-MVPs. Why? Because “most valuable player” is being treated like “most valuable scorer,” and those are not the same job.

Mitchell was already a scorer. First two years: 12.7 and 13.6. From 2020 on, she locked in around 18: 17.9, 17.8, 18.4, 18.2. Same job. Losing teams. That is a real, durable bucket. Not a flash. Not a game changer.

Clark did not invent that. After she arrived: 19.2, then 20.2, then this year 25.0 on 51/46/84. That last number is a leap. Gravity helps. Better looks help. A team that can finally win games helps. Give Clark that. Do not give her the whole ledger. Mitchell still has to make the shot.

What Clark spends is the other side of the sheet. She could chase Mitchell’s scoring nights if that was the job she wanted. She keeps dumping the logo look instead. That costs her points. It buys the room. That is the value. Not only Mitchell. The whole floor.

A co-MVP ballot splits a job the other sideline did not split. Fernandez did not say get it out of both of their hands. He said get it out of hers.

A trophy is not a group hug. The huddle can belong to everybody. The award belongs to the jersey they circled first.

How a team talks about two stars is not the same as how it talks to them. That’s the next piece.