In the high-stakes, hyper-competitive world of professional sports, where rivalries are often manufactured for television ratings, some animosities are so deeply ingrained, so fundamentally a part of a player’s identity, that they can’t be contained. Such was the case for WNBA star Sophie Cunningham, a former University of Missouri standout, who in a moment of candid, unscripted honesty, reignited one of the most bitter and long-standing rivalries in all of college sports. Her blunt confession—a simple, yet powerful, “God, I hate Kansas”—has become an overnight sensation, turning a routine professional basketball game into a high-stakes, emotional showdown between two fanbases that have been at war for decades.
The incident unfolded during a pre-game interview, a typically bland affair filled with predictable answers and clichéd remarks. But for Cunningham, the upcoming matchup between her Phoenix Mercury team and the Indiana Fever was anything but routine. On the opposing side of the court stood players who had once worn the jersey of her most hated rival: the Kansas Jayhawks. When asked about the rivalry, Cunningham didn’t hold back. Her words were unfiltered, raw, and came straight from the heart of a Mizzou fan. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion that transcended the professional setting and spoke to the primal loyalties of college athletics.
The comment immediately went viral. For fans of the University of Missouri, it was a battle cry, a validation of their own long-standing animosity towards their Kansas counterparts. They celebrated Cunningham as a hero, a player who refused to forget her roots and who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Her words became a rallying cry, a testament to a rivalry that has been fought on the basketball court, the football field, and in countless social media skirmishes for more than a century.
“God, I love that s**t,” she said. “If my knee was good, I’d be jumping around this freaking apartment right now. I’m so pumped for the Border War. God, I hate Kansas. I hate them. I hate them. But inject Mr. Brightside into my damn veins. Oh my God, I’m so hyped.”
But for fans of the University of Kansas, Cunningham’s comments were seen as unprofessional and disrespectful. They argued that a professional athlete should be above such childish feuds and that her remarks were a cheap shot meant to incite controversy. The online forums and social media platforms became a battleground, with both sides trading insults and re-hashing old grievances. The debate was no longer just about a professional basketball game; it was about the very nature of a rivalry that has defined a region for generations.
The history of the Mizzou-Kansas rivalry, often referred to as the “Border War,” is steeped in historical conflict and deep-seated animosity. The roots of the feud stretch back to the Civil War, where a literal border war was fought between the two states. Over the years, this history has manifested itself in a fierce athletic rivalry that has been punctuated by legendary games, intense fan behavior, and a palpable sense of mutual dislike. Even after Mizzou left the Big 12 conference for the SEC, the rivalry never truly died; it simply went into hibernation.
“I’m so glad they’re bringing it (Border War) back because at the end of the day, it just brings back like just good memories for everyone,” Cunningham said. “I love a good Border War, and they always get out of hand, and I get that. But I hate Kansas.”
Cunningham’s comments have not only revived it, but have also brought it to a national stage. She has reminded the world that for many athletes, college rivalries are not just about a few games a year; they are a part of their identity. The bonds forged in those competitive years, and the animosities developed with rival schools, can last a lifetime. For Cunningham, a few years of playing at the University of Missouri left an indelible mark on her, a feeling so strong that it surfaced in a seemingly random moment in her professional career.
The incident is a powerful example of the enduring power of college sports. While professional athletics can sometimes feel transactional, college athletics are often deeply emotional, tied to a sense of place, identity, and shared history. Cunningham’s blunt honesty was a reminder of this truth. She wasn’t speaking as a Phoenix Mercury player; she was speaking as a Mizzou Tiger, and in doing so, she gave voice to millions of fans who have felt the same way for decades.
“I had hoped to share a better update, but I will not be returning to play this season,” Clark announced on social media. “I spent hours in the gym every day with the singular goal of getting back out there, disappointed isn’t a big enough word to describe how I am feeling.”
The game between the Mercury and the Fever will now be watched with a new sense of purpose, a personal element added to a professional contest, all thanks to a simple, honest comment that proved some rivalries are simply too powerful to ever truly fade away.
