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.

That’s why her rant resonated so deeply. It wasn’t just about the calls that night. It was about an entire system that players feel is stacked against them. Collier may have been the one holding the microphone, but her voice carried the weight of a locker room full of veterans who are tired of being props in a league they helped build.

For the WNBA, this is a crossroads moment. Collier’s outburst cannot be brushed aside as simple frustration. It reflects a deeper tension that could define the league’s future. If the WNBA continues to pour everything into Caitlin Clark while ignoring the frustrations of veterans, it risks internal fracture. The players may not say it openly yet, but the resentment is real. If the league can find a way to balance its marketing strategy—to embrace Clark’s popularity while equally celebrating the greatness of Wilson, Stewart, Collier, and others—then it can harness this moment into lasting growth.

Clark offered more than just logo-3 highlights. She gave the league hope.

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.

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.

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.

Napheesa Collier didn’t hold back. The former UConn star and Minnesota Lynx leader, long known for her calm presence, delivered a fiery post-game rant that has reverberated across the league. Her “enough is enough” moment wasn’t just about referees, travel conditions, or playoff frustrations. It was about something deeper, something that speaks to the heart of the WNBA’s current identity crisis. Her words, raw and unfiltered, reflected what many around the league have been whispering for months: the WNBA has a Caitlin Clark problem.

That doesn’t mean Clark herself is the problem. The rookie phenom has brought unprecedented attention to the league. She shattered attendance records, moved television ratings into uncharted territory, and forced a broader sports audience to pay attention. In a league long hungry for mainstream recognition, Clark has delivered it. But the way the league has chosen to embrace her—and the way other players feel they’ve been sidelined in the process—is the fault line Collier’s comments revealed.

When Collier blasted the WNBA’s leadership for failing its players, she wasn’t just speaking about the missed calls or the lack of respect for veterans. She was voicing the frustration of players who feel the league is increasingly being defined through one star while ignoring the rest. In her eyes, and in the eyes of many, the problem isn’t Caitlin Clark’s success—it’s the imbalance in how the league sells her success compared to the contributions of others.

This imbalance has consequences. For players like Collier, A’ja Wilson, Breanna Stewart, and countless veterans who have carried the league for years, the sudden flood of marketing, media coverage, and officiating controversies tied to Clark has created a growing resentment. When Collier said “we sacrifice our bodies, our time, our families, and what do we get in return?” it was a veiled shot at the system that places all the league’s chips on one star while the rest feel taken for granted.

Clark’s arrival in the WNBA was always going to be seismic. But instead of using her popularity as a rising tide to lift all boats, the league has leaned so heavily into her image that players like Collier now see favoritism everywhere—from the way games are scheduled to the way referees call fouls. That perception, fair or not, undermines the league’s credibility.

And it isn’t just the players who feel it. Fans have noticed too. Some are thrilled that Clark is finally forcing the WNBA into prime-time conversations, but others believe the league has created a two-tier system: Clark at the top, everyone else trying to claw for space in her shadow. That creates division rather than unity. When Collier said “enough is enough,” she was essentially demanding the league recognize that women’s basketball is bigger than one superstar.

At the core of Collier’s rant is a truth the WNBA has yet to reconcile. The league wants to grow, and Caitlin Clark is the key to unlocking a massive new audience. But that growth can’t come at the expense of the very players who built the league’s foundation. A marketing strategy that feels like it sidelines its veterans is not sustainable. It risks alienating the very women whose buy-in is essential to making the product worth watching.

The irony is that Clark herself has never asked for this. By all accounts, she has been humble, focused, and eager to learn. She’s acknowledged her struggles as a rookie, praised her opponents, and shown respect for the veterans who came before her. But perception often outweighs reality. And the perception among players is that the league is bending over backwards for Clark while ignoring the concerns of everyone else.

Collier’s comments also exposed another uncomfortable reality: the league’s officiating has become a flashpoint because of Clark. Every game she plays feels magnified, every call dissected. The referees, under enormous pressure, have delivered wildly inconsistent performances. To players like Collier, that inconsistency feels less like human error and more like manipulation. She all but accused the league of choosing which narratives to elevate, hinting that stars like Clark get preferential treatment while others are left to suffer the consequences.

But ignoring Collier’s words would be a mistake. She has always been measured, thoughtful, and professional. For her to erupt like this shows just how deep the frustrations have become. Fans heard it. Other players heard it. And if the league leadership didn’t hear it, they’re not listening.

Ultimately, the WNBA’s Caitlin Clark problem is not Caitlin Clark herself. It’s how the league sees her—how it elevates her above everyone else and, in doing so, risks alienating the very athletes who made Clark’s rise possible. Collier’s rant was a warning shot, a reminder that no single star can carry a league alone. The question now is whether the WNBA will take that warning seriously—or continue down a path that could divide its own players at the very moment the world is finally watching.