Why the WNBA’s Mishandling of Caitlin Clark and the Indiana Fever Could Backfire and Cost the League Its Big Moment

The WNBA has rarely been under a brighter spotlight than it is right now. For years, the league has fought valiantly to grow its viewership, increase attendance, and gain parity in media coverage and respect. Then came Caitlin Clark — a generational talent, college basketball’s all-time leading scorer, and a cultural phenomenon. The Indiana Fever selecting her No. 1 overall in the 2024 WNBA Draft brought unprecedented attention to the franchise and the league. But just weeks into her rookie season, the WNBA’s handling of the Indiana Fever and its star rookie is raising eyebrows and threatens to undo much of the goodwill and momentum it has finally built. The league’s missteps — both in logistics and in tone — could wind up alienating new fans, damaging player relations, and stalling the very growth it seeks.

At the heart of the matter is a clear mismatch between what Caitlin Clark represents and how the WNBA has responded. Clark isn’t just another top pick. She’s a transcendent figure who brought millions of viewers to women’s college basketball, filling arenas and driving revenue. She’s not just a player for the Fever; she’s the biggest star in women’s basketball — perhaps in all of American sports right now. Yet, the WNBA has not adjusted to the scale of her popularity or the opportunity she brings to transform the league’s visibility.

From the outset, the league failed to properly invest in the infrastructure necessary to support the attention Clark draws. The Indiana Fever have had an unusually grueling travel and game schedule early in the season, with little apparent concern from league organizers. Clark, already adjusting to the speed and physicality of the pro game, has faced long flights, minimal rest, and quick turnarounds, all while playing under a brighter spotlight than any rookie in WNBA history. It’s not just a disservice to her — it’s a disservice to fans and to the product. New viewers tuning in to see Clark expect high-quality play, not a fatigued team being physically outmatched because of poor scheduling.

Even more troubling is the league’s muted response to increasingly physical — sometimes reckless — play against Clark. Several games have featured hard fouls and questionable physical contact, some of which has bordered on targeting. Yet there has been little public commentary or action from the league office. The message sent is that protecting star players is not a priority, even if they are central to the league’s growth. Contrast that with the NBA, where stars are given a certain level of respect and protection not just to preserve their health, but because they are the face of the product. The WNBA’s lack of response risks not only Clark’s well-being but the investment fans have made in watching her journey.

It’s clear that some of the intensity aimed at Clark comes from more than just competition. She’s a white player in a league that is predominantly Black, and her arrival has sparked complex conversations around race, attention, and media bias. Many of Clark’s critics — including former players and some media voices — argue that she receives disproportionate attention because of her race. That may be true in part, and the conversation is worth having. But those same critics often overlook how that attention can be used to lift the entire league if managed correctly.

Instead, the league has taken a hands-off approach, allowing an increasingly toxic narrative to grow. Clark is being cast as an outsider, or worse, as someone being force-fed to fans while more established veterans are overlooked. But this framing isn’t just unhelpful — it’s self-defeating. The NBA faced a similar challenge when Larry Bird and Magic Johnson entered the league. Rather than shy away from their popularity or downplay their racial and stylistic contrasts, the NBA leaned in — marketing the rivalry, celebrating their differences, and ultimately using their star power to lift the league out of obscurity. The WNBA’s refusal to publicly defend or promote Clark with the same energy risks wasting a similarly transformative moment.

The internal culture of the WNBA may also be part of the problem. There’s a strong ethos in the league of earning your stripes — of proving yourself and paying your dues before commanding respect. That mentality can be healthy in a competitive setting, but not when it becomes a barrier to elevating the league’s best opportunities. Clark is held to a standard that no rookie should be expected to meet — to both play well and navigate the weight of an entire league’s success on her shoulders, all while being quietly resented for the attention she brings.

Veteran players deserve respect for building the league in more difficult times, no question. But that shouldn’t come at the cost of embracing what Clark represents. Resisting her rise out of a sense of entitlement or territorialism is not just shortsighted — it’s harmful. Growth in sports always comes with new faces, and leagues that thrive are the ones that integrate their past and future effectively. So far, the WNBA has struggled with that balancing act.

Then there’s the media side of things. Networks like ESPN, which heavily promoted Clark during her collegiate career, have seemed reluctant to maintain the same level of energy now that she’s in the WNBA. This may be due to internal league pressure or fear of stoking racial division, but the end result is the same: a golden opportunity is being treated with tepid engagement. Fans who followed Clark from Iowa into the pros are finding it harder to access her games or see highlights promoted at the level they expected. That disconnect erodes casual interest, which is the lifeblood of any growing league.

The WNBA doesn’t need to make Clark the only star. But it does need to understand that she is a star — and right now, she’s the one drawing the most attention. That’s not a slight to other players; it’s an opportunity to welcome new fans and introduce them to the rest of the league. If managed properly, Clark’s stardom can become the gateway to broader appreciation of the talent and stories within the WNBA. If mismanaged, it can lead to alienation, backlash, and wasted momentum.

Already, there are signs that fans are becoming frustrated. Social media discourse is increasingly polarized, with some defending Clark at all costs and others going out of their way to diminish her contributions. The WNBA’s silence — or in some cases, passive facilitation of these narratives — only fuels that divide. It needs leadership, not just from within teams but from the top of the league itself. The commissioner’s office must step in to publicly back all players — Clark included — and provide a clear vision for how the league plans to grow in this new era.

The stakes are incredibly high. The WNBA has the talent, the platform, and now the attention to reach unprecedented levels. But attention is not guaranteed to last. It must be nurtured and converted into long-term loyalty. Mishandling the Indiana Fever and Caitlin Clark risks turning a historic influx of interest into a passing trend. Worse, it may send a message to future stars — and their fans — that the league isn’t ready to embrace game-changers unless they come through the exact mold it prefers.

In the end, the WNBA doesn’t need to protect Clark because she’s fragile. It needs to protect the opportunity she represents — because it is fragile. Every league gets moments like this, when the spotlight is hot and the future looks bright. How the WNBA responds now may well determine whether this moment becomes a turning point or a cautionary tale. The time for cautious, reactive leadership is over. This is the league’s big moment — and if it’s not careful, it may lose it.