Caitlin Clark and her army of fans are the WNBA’s most valuable business asset. Not the most valuable player (at least not yet) … but business asset.

Clark’s arrival in the spring of 2024 sent the league’s television ratings, attendance, media rights, sponsorships and franchise evaluations soaring. Overnight, billionaires were fighting to pay $250 million for teams of their own.

For many fans, the issue feels familiar. Women’s sports have long wrestled with internal gatekeeping — where established players and executives fear that one person’s meteoric rise will overshadow the collective. In that sense, Clark’s predicament mirrors what Serena Williams once faced in tennis or what Ronda Rousey faced in mixed martial arts.

Both were simultaneously hailed as saviors and criticized as distractions. Wetzel’s column forces the WNBA to confront that same paradox: it wants Caitlin Clark’s spotlight, but not her shadow.

The broader implication of Wetzel’s argument is that the WNBA is at a crossroads. Its growth depends on figures like Clark, Angel Reese, and Paige Bueckers — young athletes with mainstream appeal who can bring millions of new fans into the fold. But the league’s institutional culture, shaped by decades of fighting for legitimacy, still resists star-centric narratives. “The league has fought so long to be respected as a whole,” Wetzel wrote, “that it now resents the individuals who can actually make it happen.” That tension, he warns, could cap the league’s potential if not addressed soon.

The WNBA’s No. 1 goal should be to take that massive base of fans who followed Clark from Iowa and turn them into fans of the entire league … not just a single player or team.

It doesn’t matter how or why new customers arrive. Everything should be about seizing the opportunity to make them regulars by selling them on the strong product already playing out on a nightly basis.

The WNBA got handed a winning lottery ticket not seen in sports since Tiger Woods arrived on the PGA Tour.

The league should stop trying to light it on fire.

The latest evidence of self-sabotage comes from a conversation between WNBA commissioner Cathy Engelbert and Minnesota star Napheesa Collier.

The specific topic was rookie contracts, which at around $75,000 per year undervalue Clark and other young talents such as Angel Reese and Paige Bueckers who brought smaller — but still valuable — fan bases and attention of their own from college.

“I … asked how [Engelbert] planned to fix the fact that players like Caitlin, Angel and Paige, who are clearly driving massive revenue for the league, are making so little for their first four years,” Collier said in a news conference. “Her response was, ‘Caitlin should be grateful she makes $16 million off the court because without the platform the WNBA gives her, she wouldn’t make anything.’”

Collier later added that Engelbert told her, “players should be on their knees thanking their lucky stars for the media rights deal that I got them.”

Collier relayed the conversation as part of a screed against Engelbert over the quality of officiating, league fines to silence criticism, and other issues. All valid points, especially heading into negotiations for a new labor deal. Yet a rant about officiating, no matter how ruthlessly delivered, is pretty common. Entertaining, yes, but it would fade.

Collier is very smart, however. The Clark comments she attributed to Engelbert had to have been a purposeful grenade.

Clark fans were already wary of the reception she has received in the WNBA, and they have good reason.

Wetzel’s critique hits at a deeper truth: Caitlin Clark isn’t just another rookie — she’s a generational figure who changed the economics of women’s basketball. From her record-breaking NCAA career to her debut in the pros, Clark has single-handedly boosted television ratings, attendance, and merchandise sales to levels the WNBA had never seen before.

Yet, despite her clear impact, she earns a base salary of just over $76,000 — a figure set by the league’s rigid collective bargaining structure. That imbalance, Wetzel argues, reveals an outdated system that refuses to evolve, even as new stars like Clark redefine the game’s financial landscape.

Collier’s comments, echoed by several other players, have reignited conversations about fairness, jealousy, and how the league treats its marketable stars. Many observers point out that while Clark has brought in new sponsors and viewers, she’s also faced more criticism and hostility than almost any other rookie in memory.

From physical targeting on the court to passive-aggressive remarks from veteran players, it’s become increasingly clear that Clark’s stardom has unsettled the WNBA’s internal hierarchy. Wetzel described this as “a league divided against itself” — one that simultaneously depends on Clark’s star power but resents what she represents.

Hard fouls. Snide comments. Dismissive media commentary. The Olympics. Some of this can be brushed off as the reality of competitive sports. No one is owed a walkway of flowers. Some of it, though, is likely based on politics, or pride, or jealousy, or rivalry, or … fill in the blank. At times, everything about Clark seems like a circus of contention.

While Clark herself has never complained, many of her fans perceive — and perception quickly becomes reality — that Clark isn’t fully welcome in the league.

In turn, neither are they.

Having the WNBA commissioner say Clark should be grateful because without the league she wouldn’t make “anything” just confirms the suspicion. It also plays on an old trope that women athletes should be thankful just for the chance to play. Is this 1972?

The whole thing is ridiculous, of course. Clark was doing national endorsement campaigns while still in college. By her junior season, she was more popular than any WNBA player. She arrived rich.

Maybe Engelbert wasn’t aware.

Dan Wetzel, one of America’s most respected sports columnists, has never been afraid to stir controversy — and this week, he did exactly that. In a scathing analysis of the WNBA’s latest drama, Wetzel claimed that Napheesa Collier’s explosive comments about league leadership “expose the real problem” at the heart of women’s basketball: an internal culture that resents, rather than celebrates, its biggest stars. His take reignited debate about whether double standards and jealousy are quietly working against Caitlin Clark, the most popular and polarizing figure the WNBA has seen in years.

Wetzel’s argument stemmed from a chain reaction that began when Minnesota Lynx star Napheesa Collier accused Commissioner Cathy Engelbert and the WNBA leadership of failing its players.

Collier claimed Engelbert once implied that Caitlin Clark should be “grateful” for the league’s platform — suggesting that without the WNBA, Clark wouldn’t have the same endorsement opportunities or media attention. The alleged remarks, which Engelbert denies, sent shockwaves across the sports world.

For Wetzel, that single word — “grateful” — summed up everything wrong with the WNBA’s leadership mindset. Instead of empowering players who attract unprecedented viewership and fan engagement, the league seems to be clinging to control, treating its stars as beneficiaries of the system rather than drivers of it.

The heart of Wetzel’s “truth bomb” is that the WNBA has built-in cultural and institutional barriers that prevent it from fully embracing its own success. The league wants growth but often resists the realities that come with it — fame, money, and public scrutiny. “If a player like Caitlin Clark, who’s brought in millions of new fans and eyeballs, is treated as if she owes the league her success, rather than the other way around,” Wetzel wrote, “then that’s not just arrogance — that’s self-sabotage.”

His point resonated far beyond basketball circles. It exposed an uncomfortable tension between a sports organization trying to project unity and a workforce increasingly divided by issues of recognition and respect.

Napheesa Collier’s attack on leadership was unusually blunt for a current player, especially one of her stature. As a WNBA All-Star and vice president of the Players Association, her voice carries weight. When she accused Engelbert of “failing the players” and described league management as “the worst leadership in professional sports,” it wasn’t just frustration — it was a declaration of no confidence.

Collier’s frustration centered not only on Clark but also on broader issues like officiating inconsistencies, poor scheduling, and a lack of transparency in player treatment. Still, it was her mention of Clark that ignited the public’s imagination, because it pointed to an unspoken divide: the old guard versus the new wave.

To understand the friction, one must consider how radically Caitlin Clark has altered the WNBA’s ecosystem. Her arrival transformed the league from a niche sport into a pop-culture topic. Broadcast ratings more than doubled, ticket prices for Indiana Fever games skyrocketed, and suddenly, mainstream sports networks — long accused of ignoring women’s basketball — began airing WNBA games in prime time.

Yet, for every headline celebrating her rise, there was another questioning whether she was being “overhyped” or “protected.” Wetzel argues that this pushback isn’t organic; it’s institutional. The system, he says, is built to downplay individual greatness in favor of collective identity, even when the league’s survival depends on breakout stars.

Critics of Wetzel’s position argue that he oversimplifies the problem. They point out that the WNBA’s pay structure is locked in by the collective bargaining agreement, and that changing it for one player would violate fairness principles. Engelbert herself has insisted that Clark’s impact will be recognized in future deals, especially when the new media rights contract is negotiated. But Wetzel counters that this defense misses the point — it’s not just about pay, it’s about culture. It’s about a leadership mindset that treats its most successful player as a “problem” to be managed rather than an opportunity to be celebrated.

For many fans, the issue feels familiar. Women’s sports have long wrestled with internal gatekeeping — where established players and executives fear that one person’s meteoric rise will overshadow the collective. In that sense, Clark’s predicament mirrors what Serena Williams once faced in tennis or what Ronda Rousey faced in mixed martial arts. Both were simultaneously hailed as saviors and criticized as distractions. Wetzel’s column forces the WNBA to confront that same paradox: it wants Caitlin Clark’s spotlight, but not her shadow.

The broader implication of Wetzel’s argument is that the WNBA is at a crossroads. Its growth depends on figures like Clark, Angel Reese, and Paige Bueckers — young athletes with mainstream appeal who can bring millions of new fans into the fold. But the league’s institutional culture, shaped by decades of fighting for legitimacy, still resists star-centric narratives. “The league has fought so long to be respected as a whole,” Wetzel wrote, “that it now resents the individuals who can actually make it happen.” That tension, he warns, could cap the league’s potential if not addressed soon.

In the wake of the controversy, Engelbert released a statement denying Collier’s allegations and reaffirming her commitment to “collaboration, equity, and growth.” But for many fans, the damage was already done. The conversation had shifted from Collier’s press conference to a broader, more uncomfortable question: is the WNBA undermining its own progress? Wetzel’s column — part criticism, part wake-up call — insists that unless the league learns to embrace its stars without resentment or control, it risks stagnation just as it stands on the verge of mainstream success.

Whether one agrees with Wetzel or not, his analysis has forced a moment of reckoning. The WNBA is no longer fighting for visibility — it has that now, thanks largely to Clark’s unprecedented influence. The next battle is internal: to decide whether it will nurture or punish that success. Collier’s comments may have been raw, and Engelbert’s alleged words may be disputed, but the truth Wetzel exposed goes deeper than one argument. It’s about power, pride, and progress — and whether the league can finally recognize that its brightest light shouldn’t have to dim for others to shine.

As the dust settles, one thing is certain: Caitlin Clark’s presence has changed everything. She’s forced the WNBA to confront what it really wants to be — a league that uplifts women equally, or one that maintains rigid control at the expense of its own stars. Dan Wetzel’s “truth bomb” wasn’t just about Collier or Clark; it was about the uncomfortable reality that success sometimes exposes more flaws than failure ever could. And in that sense, this controversy may be the growing pain the league needed to truly evolve.

That the WNBA commissioner would have an opinion on who should be grateful to whom, let alone that she would unprofessionally express it to another active player is almost unfathomable.

It’s not Clark who should thank the WNBA for her endorsements. It’s the league that should thank her for the boom in business. It should count its blessings that she and the other young charismatic stars are gracing its league.

“I am disheartened by how Napheesa characterized our conversations and league leadership,” Engelbert said as part of a statement. “But even when our perspectives differ, my commitment to the players and to this work will not waver.”

That isn’t a denial of what Collier said Engelbert said. It also doesn’t address the main issue.

The absolute worst thing that could happen for the business of women’s basketball is for all the new fans to think the league not only doesn’t appreciate their favorite player, but is openly hostile and condescending to them.

That’s precisely how you don’t grow a sport. They might tune in for Caitlin games (or Angel and Paige games), but they now have motivation to purposely not support, watch or care about anything or anyone else.

The WNBA suddenly isn’t a business that covets them as lifelong customers.

It is the enemy.