The Women’s National Basketball Association is having a moment. In recent months, the league has exploded into the mainstream consciousness, fueled by a new generation of electrifying talent, record-shattering viewership numbers, and a palpable energy that has arenas buzzing. With stars like Caitlin Clark drawing unprecedented media attention, the WNBA is rightfully celebrating a new era of growth and recognition. But with this heightened visibility has come an unforeseen and uniquely modern challenge—one that is not happening on the court, but flying out from the stands. A bizarre trend has emerged, threatening to distract from the sport itself: fans are repeatedly throwing neon green adult toys onto the court during live games.

The most prominent example of this strange phenomenon unfolded during a highly anticipated game between the Indiana Fever and the Los Angeles Sparks at the famed Crypto.com Arena. The air was thick with the intensity of professional competition. With just over two minutes remaining in the second quarter, the flow of the game was abruptly shattered. An object, unmistakably a green sex toy, arched through the air and slapped onto the hardwood near Indiana’s Sophie Cunningham. The forward, caught completely off guard, instinctively jumped back, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief. Her teammate, Kelsey Plum, reacted with the swiftness of a seasoned pro, kicking the offending item off the court and back toward the stands without missing a beat. The game continued, but the moment lingered.

In the aftermath, the incident was anything but a laughing matter for league officials. Sparks coach Lynne Roberts was blunt in her assessment to the media, denouncing the act with clear frustration. She described it as a “ridiculous, dumb, and dangerous” stunt, emphasizing that the primary concern must always be the well-being of the athletes. For Roberts, it was a fundamental breach of respect for the players and the integrity of the game, a foolish act that had no place in a professional sporting environment.

Sophie Cunningham, the player at the center of the bizarre event, has become the unofficial spokesperson for this strange new reality. Known for her approachable and often light-hearted personality, her initial reaction was a laugh. But behind the humor lies a genuine concern that she has not hesitated to voice. The incident in Los Angeles was not her first encounter with the issue. Just days earlier, she had taken to social media with a direct plea: “Stop throwing dildos on the court. You’re going to hurt one of us.” After the object landed at her feet in L.A., she posted a wry follow-up: “This didn’t age well.”

What might have been dismissed as a one-off prank quickly revealed itself to be a coordinated, multi-city trend. On the very same night, reports confirmed that similar green items had been thrown during games in Phoenix and New York, though those objects fortunately didn’t make it onto the playing surface. In the span of a single week, the league had to contend with at least three such incidents. The absurdity was escalating into a pattern. “It’s wild,” Cunningham admitted. “It’s funny, but it’s also dangerous. If it hits someone in the face or causes someone to trip, that’s not a joke.”

Appearing on the podcast Show Me Something, Cunningham offered a more detailed look into her feelings and the conversations happening behind closed doors. She explained the very real physical risks that these seemingly harmless items pose. “People joke about it, but those things can cause injuries,” she stated, revealing a startling personal anecdote. “I’ve tripped on one before — not even at a game — and they’re not great for ankles.” She also contemplated the strange legacy such a moment could create. “The bounce that thing had… if it had hit me in the face? That’d be what I’d be known for the rest of my life,” she said with a laugh, underscoring the absurdity. “That’s not what I trained for.”

The situation has become so prevalent that it has even permeated her family life, albeit humorously. Cunningham shared that a recent pre-game text from her mother wasn’t the usual message of good luck. Instead, it was a sign of the times: a warning to “watch out for flying dildos tonight.”

As is often the case, internet culture has latched onto the trend with fervor. Social media platforms are filled with jokes and memes. One commenter wryly suggested that Cunningham’s plea to stop the trend had been ratioed by replies like, “Well, stop playing basketball on the dildo range.” In a more troubling development, online betting markets even briefly appeared, allowing people to wager on the color of the next object to be thrown, turning a safety concern into a spectacle for financial gain.

Despite the comedic undertones, the league is taking the matter seriously. Authorities have already made at least one arrest in connection with the stunts, and the individual involved has been banned from attending future WNBA games. However, a logistical question looms large: how are these items getting into the venues in the first place? Metal detectors are standard, but they are useless against these objects. “There’s been talk in the locker room,” Cunningham shared. “They’re not getting in through metal detectors. They’re rubber — you can sneak it in pretty easily if someone really wants to.”

This leaves the league and its players in a precarious position. They are forced to strike a delicate balance between acknowledging the absurdity of it all and addressing the seriousness of the safety and security implications. Cunningham herself has navigated this line with grace. “It’s not streakers. It’s not violent. But it’s weird. And yeah, it’s kind of become a thing,” she reflected. “But at the end of the day, we’re athletes. We’re here to play.”

Her sentiment is echoed by the coaching staff. Indiana Fever head coach Stephanie White expressed a similar focus. “We come to play the game, and people want to see us play,” she said. “We can’t control everyone’s actions, but we’ll keep showing up and competing.”

The debate now extends to the nature of publicity itself. Some argue that the league should lean into the viral attention, subscribing to the old mantra that “all press is good press.” However, many analysts and insiders are wary of that approach. One podcast host articulated the risk clearly, stating, “The WNBA wants to be taken seriously — and rightfully so. You can’t build a brand around this kind of chaos.” Trivializing or, worse, encouraging such stunts could set a dangerous precedent, undermining the professionalism and athletic excellence the league has worked so hard to showcase.

As the WNBA continues its upward trajectory, its players are proving their resilience on and off the court. They are not just battling opponents; they are navigating the unpredictable and often bizarre landscape of modern fame and internet culture. With humor and professionalism, athletes like Sophie Cunningham are managing to keep their focus on the sport they love, all while advocating for the basic right to a safe and respectful workplace. The flying green objects may be a strange footnote in a banner year for the league, but they are also a stark reminder that with great popularity comes even greater, and sometimes weirder, responsibility.