It wasn’t just anger in Shaquille O’Neal’s voice—it was something heavier. Like a storm cloud full of grief, disappointment, and unwavering love. When he raised his voice in defense of Angel Reese, it wasn’t a PR move or a show of bravado. It was personal. You could hear it. That mix of protectiveness and rage only comes out when someone messes with family. And to Shaq, Angel isn’t just another athlete lighting up the WNBA. She’s his girl. His Tiger. His pride. Kee
The connection between them isn’t born from fame or headlines—it’s rooted in something much deeper. LSU molded both of them. It’s where Shaq learned dominance, and where Angel found her voice. Long before the bright lights of Chicago, before the fashion statements and the double-doubles, there was a young Reese chasing her dreams through the halls of Baton Rouge. And somewhere along the way, Shaq started watching. Quietly. Proudly. Like a father watching his daughter grow into herself.kee
So when RGIII decided to poke fun—again—it wasn’t just bad taste. It was a step too far. A racist jab masked as internet content, delivered with a smug tone and shared with the hope of engagement. But this time, it landed wrong. This time, it echoed in a space that felt sacred. Shaq had seen enough. And what he said wasn’t filtered or sugar-coated—it was raw. “Tweet another monkey post about my girl Angel Reese and I’m going to punch you in your f-ing face.” There was no metaphor. Just a man drawing a line in the sand.
But beneath the fury, Shaq was doing what he’s always done—using his voice for those still fighting to be heard. Because whether people like it or not, the WNBA still exists under a microscope, one that often distorts rather than magnifies. Angel Reese has become a symbol—not just of athletic excellence, but of unapologetic Black femininity in sports. That alone makes her a target. And Shaq knows it. That’s why he wasn’t just protecting her image—he was protecting her humanity. Kee
Still, Reese is no damsel. She’s brash, bold, and unafraid to clap back. But even soldiers need shields. And in Shaq’s mind, she shouldn’t have to carry every fight on her own. “You’re beautiful,” he told her, “Don’t indulge with these fools.” There’s something heartbreaking about that. Like a man who knows the weight of being misunderstood, begging someone he cares for not to let the world harden her. Kee
Meanwhile, on the court, Angel keeps building her own legacy. Nine straight double-doubles. Relentless hustle. And when her teammate Ariel Atkins lit up the floor against the Lynx, it was Reese who grabbed the mic to give her flowers. “She’s tough,” she said, defending Atkins with the same fire Shaq showed for her. Because Reese knows what it feels like to be doubted. To be called “washed” or “overrated.” That’s why her praise means more—it comes from experience, not sympathy. Kee
Atkins dropped 27 in the first half alone before an injury forced her off. But even in absence, she left a statement. And Reese, still glowing from the performance, looked like someone ready to carry more weight if it came to that. The Chicago Sky may be young, and yes, inconsistent—but there’s a resilience building in that locker room. One born of adversity, mentorship, and a sisterhood that doesn’t wait for validation. Kee
As for Shaq? He’ll keep watching. Maybe from the sidelines. Maybe from his podcast chair. But if you listen closely, every once in a while, you’ll hear the low growl of a lion who never forgot his roots—or the ones who came after him. Kee
About the Author
