It is often said that be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. For a vocal segment of the WNBA media and player base, the wish has been granted: The “Caitlin Clark mania” has quieted down for the offseason. The problem? So has the audience.

The winter of 2025 was supposed to be the season the WNBA proved it was bigger than one player. With the launch of “Unrivaled,” a 3-on-3 league featuring the best talent in the world, the stage was set to capture the momentum of a historic summer. Instead, the league is facing a brutal hangover, and the silence from the television ratings is deafening.

This downturn isn’t just a slump; it is a direct rebuttal to one of the most controversial narratives of the year—specifically, the comments made by ESPN’s Elle Duncan, which are now aging like milk left out in the summer sun.

The “Life-Sucking” Narrative

Rewind to the peak of the WNBA season. Arenas were sold out, TV ratings were rivaling the NBA, and merchandise was flying off the shelves. By every objective metric, the league was thriving in a way it never had in its nearly 30-year history.

Yet, on national television, Elle Duncan pushed a narrative that baffled business analysts and casual observers alike. She characterized the influx of new Caitlin Clark fans not as a blessing, but as a burden, famously suggesting that these new viewers were “sucking the life out of the league.”

It was a stunning take. In what other industry are millions of new paying customers treated as a virus? The implication was clear: These fans were “wrong.” They didn’t know the history, they didn’t appreciate the other players, and their support was conditional.

Well, Elle Duncan was right about one thing—their support was conditional. And the condition was Caitlin Clark.

The “Unrivaled” Reality Check

Fast forward to the present. Caitlin Clark chose to sit out the “Unrivaled” league, opting for rest and golf over another grueling basketball schedule. This was the moment for the “true fans”—the ones Duncan and others claimed were the real backbone of the sport—to show up.

The results have been alarming. Without Clark as the engine, the ratings for Unrivaled have fallen flat, failing to meet the lofty expectations set by broadcast partners who bought into the summer hype. The data is creating a panic in boardrooms because it exposes a harsh truth: The millions of people watching Indiana Fever games weren’t suddenly converted into die-hard WNBA loyalists. They were Caitlin Clark fans.

When you tell a customer base that they are unwanted, “toxic,” or “sucking the life” out of the product, they tend to listen. They have taken their time and money elsewhere, leaving the non-Clark product to stand on its own merits—and the numbers suggest it isn’t standing tall.

Rebecca Lobo Sounds the Alarm

While some pundits double down, WNBA legend Rebecca Lobo is one of the few voices brave enough to speak the uncomfortable truth. A Hall of Famer who helped build the league from the ground up in 1996, Lobo isn’t interested in internet clout; she is interested in the league’s survival.

Lobo has recently issued a stark warning about the shifting tides of public sentiment. She noted that the current Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) offers on the table—featuring average salaries of $500,000 and maximums exceeding $1 million—are historic wins. Yet, the rhetoric from current players, describing these offers as “insulting,” is alienating the average fan who works a 9-to-5 job.

Lobo pointed to the All-Star game protest, where players wore shirts demanding fairness but then delivered a flat, uninspired performance on the court, as a turning point. “Fans typically side with labor against billionaire owners,” analysts note. “But here, the fans feel disrespected by the labor.”

The Fumble of a Lifetime

The tragedy of this moment is that it was entirely avoidable. The WNBA had the “Tiger Woods effect” in the palm of its hand. All that was required was to welcome the new wave, educate them gently, and ride the momentum.

Instead, the gatekeeping instinct kicked in. New fans were tested on their knowledge of the 1990s Comets before being allowed to cheer. They were told their favorite player was just “one of many.” They were scolded for only caring about the rookie.

Now, the league is staring at the consequences. The momentum is fragile. The “Unrivaled” struggle proves that the rising tide didn’t lift all boats—it lifted one boat, and everyone else was just drafting in the wake.

As the WNBA heads into a contentious negotiation period with owners, they do so with a weaker hand than they had six months ago. They proved that without their biggest star, the product reverts to niche status.

Elle Duncan’s “life-sucking” fans have left the building. The question now is: Is there enough life left in the building to keep the lights on without them?