The WNBA offseason was supposed to be a celebration. Coming off a year of shattered records, exploding viewership, and the arrival of a generational superstar in Caitlin Clark, the league seemed poised for a seamless transition into a new golden era. Instead, the conversation has curdled into frustration, stalled negotiations, and the very real threat of a lockout.
The mood has shifted so drastically that even the players are starting to break rank. Sophie Cunningham, the Phoenix Mercury guard known for her fiery play, didn’t mince words in a recent assessment of the situation.
“It has not been moving at all. Both sides are getting frustrated. It sucks… It’s just so dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb,” Cunningham said.
Her bluntness cuts through the corporate speak that usually surrounds Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) talks. It signals that the frustration isn’t just between the players and the owners—it’s boiling over within the rank and file. The “dumb” nature of the standoff, as Cunningham puts it, stems from a dangerous game of chicken that threatens to squander the most valuable asset the league currently possesses: momentum.
The “Slap in the Face” Problem
The core of the issue, according to respected voices like Rebecca Lobo, isn’t just what the players are asking for—it’s how they are asking for it.
Lobo, a WNBA legend and analyst who typically supports player empowerment, has stepped into the role of the “adult in the room.” Her warning to the union is stark: watch your language. When players describe proposals that include significant salary increases and revenue sharing models as a “slap in the face,” they are playing a dangerous game with public perception.
“When a deal is presented that’s over a million max salary and revenue share, and it’s called a ‘slap in the face’… just use different words,” Lobo cautioned. “I’m worried that the players might be getting to a point where they might be losing some of the support from the public.”
Lobo’s point is rooted in cold, hard optics. To the average fan—the person buying the tickets and tuning in—a million-dollar salary package doesn’t look like an insult. It looks like life-changing money. When the messaging from the union sounds detached from the economic reality of their own fan base, sympathy evaporates. And in a niche sport still fighting for mainstream permanence, public sympathy is a form of leverage. Once you lose the room, you lose the negotiation.
The Caitlin Clark Reality Check
Hovering over every tense meeting and angry tweet is the uncomfortable truth that the union’s strategy seems to ignore: the “Caitlin Clark Effect.”
For months, the players’ association has operated under the premise that the league’s explosive growth is structural and evenly distributed—that “women’s basketball” as a concept has finally arrived. While the talent level is undeniably higher than ever, the ratings data tells a more specific story. The massive surge in attention is heavily concentrated around Clark.
We’ve seen this reality play out with the struggles of the “Unrivaled” league, which failed to retain a massive audience without Clark’s participation. The casual fan is not buying “more games” as an abstract concept; they are buying a specific superstar experience. By treating all growth as generic, the union risks overplaying its hand. They are demanding payment for a “tide” that might actually be a “wave” created by a single player.
If the union acts like they have leverage based on broad popularity, but the broadcasters and owners know the numbers are specific to one draw, the negotiation hits a stalemate. You cannot force the market to pay for a reality that doesn’t exist on the spreadsheet.
The Schedule Trap
While the players argue over “slap in the face” offers, the league (the owners) has made a subtle, strategic move that acts as a trap for the union: they released the 2026 schedule.
This wasn’t just administrative work; it was a power play. By putting dates on the calendar, the league has locked fans into anticipation. They have promised a season. They have promised matchups. They have created a psychological contract with the audience.
If the season is delayed or cancelled due to a lockout or strike, the side seen as “breaking” that contract takes the blame. With the schedule out, the owners can sit back and say, “We are ready to play. Here are the dates.” If the players refuse to take the court, the narrative shifts instantly. The players become the villains who took basketball away, not the heroes fighting for fairness.
Momentum is Rented, Not Owned
The tragedy of this standoff is that it is happening at the worst possible time. Sports history is littered with leagues that thought they had “made it,” only to find out that fan attention is fickle.
Momentum is not a permanent resource. It is rented, and the rent is due every day. A league can spend a decade building the kind of buzz the WNBA currently has, and one messy, silent summer can kill it. Casual fans do not follow labor disputes; they follow stars and storylines. If you give them drama instead of games, they simply change the channel.
Voices like Sophie Cunningham, Rebecca Lobo, and even Candace Parker—who criticized the “Pay Us What You Ow Us” shirts at the All-Star Game—are signaling that the players need to pivot. They need to recognize that winning the moral argument is useless if you lose the business war.
The Endgame
The path forward requires a “face-saving” deal. The owners need cost certainty, and the players need wins they can sell to their membership. But more importantly, the league needs to stop talking about spreadsheets and start talking about basketball again.
Sophie Cunningham is right: it is “dumb” to let this moment slip away. The WNBA has the world’s attention. The worst thing they can do now is give the world a reason to look away.
