It was announced with confetti, executive smiles, and headlines screaming optimism.
The WNBA is expanding—from 13 to 18 teams.
For some, this signaled growth. For others, it revealed something more fragile: a league still tethered to one player, one brand, one source of gravity.
Because underneath the celebration was a dangerous question:
What happens if Caitlin Clark walks away?
The Most Ambitious Leap in WNBA History
Expanding a professional sports league by nearly 40% isn’t subtle.
It’s aggressive. It’s loud. It’s high-risk.
On paper, it looks like vision: new markets, more athletes, bigger rosters, new investment opportunities.
But this move doesn’t live on paper. It lives in arenas with thousands of empty seats. It lives in TV ratings that fluctuate wildly depending on one factor—whether or not Clark is playing.
And when you dig past the slogans and social media graphics, the business logic starts to fracture.
A League That Bleeds Without Her
Let’s talk numbers.
When Caitlin Clark plays, the WNBA draws national attention. Her lowest-rated game this season—on NBA TV—brought in over 580,000 viewers. Her highest? Over 620,000.
Games without her? Most hover below 250,000. Some drop as low as 100,000.
Angel Reese, Kelsey Plum, Naphessa Collier—talented, promoted, beloved within their markets. But without Clark, the league’s reach drops off a cliff.
And yet, the WNBA now wants five new teams.
Expansion on a Foundation of Sand
There’s no doubt that the WNBA has talent. What it lacks—still—is consistency in demand.
Clark’s presence creates a gravitational pull. She moves merch. She sells out road games. She drives engagement in markets that haven’t cared in years.
But the league’s broader footprint? Still unsteady.
Minneapolis hosts one of the league’s best in Collier. Still, their arena averages under 10,000 in a building that seats nearly 19,000.
Chicago, where Angel Reese and Kamilla Cardoso share the floor, often feels half full.
The All-Star Game voting was record-setting—but voting is free. Viewership and ticket sales aren’t.
The league is betting expansion on numbers that are inflated by a single person. And the problem is: she’s not required to stay.
Christine Brennan’s Quiet Bombshell
Sports columnist Christine Brennan has covered women’s sports for decades. She’s no stranger to the WNBA’s evolution—or its challenges.
So when she recently floated a scenario on ESPN Radio—suggesting Caitlin Clark could help launch a new league—it wasn’t clickbait.
It was a flare.
Brennan pointed to Clark’s massive commercial backing. Nike. Wilson. Gatorade. More than $40 million in partnerships already inked.
And more tellingly: zero public protection from league leadership when Clark’s been targeted, fouled hard, and attacked by players more interested in making a point than playing a clean game.
Brennan’s theory? If the WNBA can’t or won’t safeguard its most valuable asset, Clark has the power—and the funding—to walk.
A Blueprint Already Exists: Unrivaled
Clark wouldn’t be starting from scratch.
Naphessa Collier and Breanna Stewart already launched Unrivaled, an offseason league designed to give players more financial control and creative freedom.
Its first season? Underwhelming.
But the structure is there: a TV deal, booked arenas, established infrastructure.
What it lacks is a star. A cultural icon.
What if Clark became that piece?
With Clark’s following, Nike’s marketing machine, and a rebranded Unrivaled league, the WNBA would be staring at an existential threat.
The Real Risk: Loyalty vs Opportunity
Some might argue WNBA players wouldn’t follow Clark to another league.
But loyalty bends when money moves.
If Clark’s league offered double the salaries, full healthcare, global branding, and clean officiating? The quiet defectors would become a flood.
And if sponsors followed Clark—as they likely would? The WNBA wouldn’t just lose its MVP. It would lose the market’s attention.
A’ja Wilson’s Dilemma
No one in the WNBA has worked harder or won more than A’ja Wilson.
She’s carried the brand for years. She’s a perennial MVP candidate. But her fanbase, media presence, and endorsement clout don’t match Clark’s—at least not publicly.
And last week, as Nike launched a full-scale ad campaign around Clark’s Kobe PE sneakers, Wilson was quiet.
Some read it as professionalism. Others read it as silent frustration.
The message from Nike was clear: they finally know where the money is.
The league should take note.
Why Clark Might Actually Do It
If Clark walked away tomorrow, she’d be more profitable than ever.
With or without the WNBA logo, her partnerships would stay intact.
She’d become the face of a new model: one where female athletes aren’t tolerated by old structures, but empowered to create new ones.
And after months of being bruised, booed, and battered—with little response from the commissioner—it would be hard to blame her.
The Business Side of Bravery
Launching a league is complicated. Logistics, rights, media, union rules.
But Clark has something most startups don’t: guaranteed attention.
Networks would line up for exclusive access. Sponsors would fund the rollout. Fans would tune in not out of loyalty, but curiosity.
And once they saw Clark play—uninterrupted, unshoved, unleashed—they’d stay.
Because this isn’t about taking the WNBA down.
It’s about giving women’s basketball what it actually deserves: freedom to evolve without carrying institutions that refuse to grow.
The WNBA’s Silent Countdown
Here’s the part no one wants to say out loud:
The WNBA may have just triggered its own countdown.
By expanding while ignoring its cultural cornerstone, it risks alienating the one person who could secure its future.
Because if Caitlin Clark leaves? The league doesn’t just lose a player.
It loses leverage. It loses media. It loses money.
And if it happens after expansion locks in, the damage could be irreversible.
Final Thought
Growth sounds good.
But real growth isn’t measured in expansion teams. It’s measured in stability, loyalty, trust.
And right now, Caitlin Clark’s trust in the WNBA looks fragile.
The league better hope that when she makes her next big decision—it isn’t a goodbye.
Because if it is?
There may not be 18 teams left to play for.
