The Women’s National Basketball Association is experiencing a cultural and financial renaissance, but the celebration has been soured by internal strife. While WNBA players have rightfully begun a campaign for a larger share of the league’s revenue, their timing and tone have drawn sharp criticism, especially from sportscaster Colin Cowherd. He took aim at veteran players like Kelsey Plum, who publicly took a swipe at the rookie sensation responsible for the league’s newfound fortune: Caitlin Clark. In a fiery on-air segment, Cowherd laid bare what he sees as rampant jealousy, comparing the WNBA’s current stars to a band that finally made it big but can’t stand its new lead singer.
Before Clark’s arrival, the WNBA was, by most metrics, a struggling enterprise. For more than two decades, it was an investment that hadn’t yet paid off. Players flew on budget airlines, sometimes having to pay for a bottle of water. Games were frequently played in cavernous, half-empty arenas. Merchandise wasn’t a factor. Then, in one season, everything changed. Clark, the “golden goose” as Cowherd calls her, brought an earthquake of attention with her to college basketball.
The numbers are staggering. Merchandise sales soared by 500%. Leaguewide attendance increased by 40%, with teams like the Indiana Fever going from financial burdens to having waiting lists for season tickets. The league that once struggled for airtime now enjoys private charter flights. Cowherd painted a vivid picture of this transformation, comparing it to going from a “Motel 6 in a sketchy part of town to four seasons in the business district.” His point was compelling: when your circumstances improve dramatically because of one person, you keep your grievances to yourself and enjoy the upgrade. Instead, some players seem determined to bite the hand that is fueling the entire ecosystem.
Nowhere was this sentiment more evident than in the WNBA All-Star voting results. The process allows fans, coaches, and players to have their say. While fans overwhelmingly voted Clark the top guard, her fellow players ranked her a distant ninth. Ninth. The biggest tiebreaker in the sport, the player single-handedly responsible for its upgraded hotels and packed arenas, was deemed unworthy of a first-place finish by her peers. Cowherd didn’t mince words, labeling the move as pure “pettiness.” She pointed out the hypocrisy of a league whose players spent years complaining about a lack of media coverage and respect, only to avoid the person who brought it to them. The wave of success had arrived, Cowherd argued, but the players “don’t like what it looks like.”
This resistance isn’t just happening on paper; it’s visible on the court. The harsh fouls, aggressive targeting, and dismissive attitude Clark has faced all season stem from the same root of resentment. It seems some veterans can’t handle a game-changing rookie they thought they possessed. To contextualize the phenomenon, Cowherd made a bold but apt comparison: Caitlin Clark is the WNBA’s Michael Jordan.
The parallels are striking. Both Jordan and Clark entered their respective leagues as flashy, game-changing rookies who immediately became must-see television. Jordan turned the NBA into a global powerhouse, and Clark is doing the same for the WNBA. Both suffered immense physical punishment from threatened veterans. The Detroit Pistons instituted the “Jordan rules,” a strategy based on relentless physical aggression to wear him down. Clark has faced similar tactics, with officials often struggling to protect their greatest asset.
The team-building parallels are just as revealing. The Chicago Bulls knew they had to protect their superstar, so they acquired enforcer Charles Oakley. Seeing the writing on the wall, the Indiana Fever did the same, trading for Sophie Cunningham, a six-year black belt, to serve as Clark’s protector. As Cowherd explained, when you have a generational offensive talent humiliating opponents, the response is always physical. It’s the ultimate, albeit brutal, compliment.
This isn’t hazing anymore, Cowherd insists; it’s a desperate attempt to stop a force of nature. Clark is already dominating the offensive statistics, and like Jordan, this early adversity will only forge her into a stronger, more resilient competitor. The WNBA now faces a critical choice. The league is on a hot streak, and its future profitability depends on capitalizing on the Clark phenomenon. Players can ride the wave to unprecedented prosperity or be swept away by their own resilience.
Some players have wisely chosen the former. Teammates like Aliyah Boston, Kelsey Mitchell, and Sophie Cunningham have embraced playing alongside a superstar, understanding that her success elevates everyone. They are building chemistry and positioning themselves as integral parts of a historic movement. They will be remembered as rising contributors to the WNBA, not as bitter obstacles.
Cowherd’s final prediction was a stark warning to the holdouts. The momentum is unstoppable. Clark is the WNBA’s jet fuel, the Steph Curry they’ll never trade. The league is at its least profitable point of what will be a lucrative decade, all thanks to her. The internal bickering, cheap on-court shooting, and small voting only delay the inevitable. The WNBA can unify behind its superstar and become a mainstream fixture, or it can fracture, leaving bitter veterans behind while the rest of the league thrives. The choice, as she made clear, should be obvious. Stop fighting the Golden Goose and start collecting the golden eggs.
