ngel Reese, a rising name in women’s basketball, recently made waves by suggesting that WNBA players might consider striking if their salaries don’t increase. Her comment, made during an Instagram Live session, emphasized that her $74,000 rookie salary “doesn’t even cover rent.” But what began as a call for higher wages quickly became a viral moment—for all the wrong reasons.
Entrepreneur and commentator Patrick Bet-David, known for dismantling illogical narratives with brutal precision, didn’t hesitate to respond. In a scathing takedown, he called Reese’s comments “detached from reality,” pointing out that the WNBA has never turned a profit in its 27-year existence. In fact, the league reportedly lost $50 million in 2023 and another $40 million in 2024, largely sustained by the NBA’s annual $10–12 million bailout.
“Let’s get this straight,” Bet-David said. “You want to go on strike from a job that’s already operating at a loss?”
Reese’s financial frustration—despite once being a millionaire college athlete through NIL (Name, Image, Likeness) deals—felt tone-deaf to many. With her estimated $1.8 million earnings in college from brands like Reebok, McDonald’s, and Coach, critics questioned how a player with that level of commercial success could now cry foul over a well-known rookie contract.
The backlash intensified when fans and analysts compared her to fellow rookie Caitlin Clark, whose entry into the WNBA has triggered an unprecedented economic boom. Clark’s arrival led to a 48% increase in league attendance and a 170% surge in viewership. Her jersey sales alone outpace most of the league’s combined merchandise figures.
“If Caitlin Clark gets injured,” Bet-David warned, “the WNBA might collapse.”
The divide between performance and popularity became glaring. While Reese has been consistent on the stat sheet with her double-double streaks, critics—including former NBA star Dwyane Wade—have accused her of stat-padding during “garbage time” when the game outcome is already decided. In contrast, Clark has led the Indiana Fever to playoff contention, breaking rookie records and igniting league-wide excitement.
Meanwhile, some veteran players and rookies like Reese seem to bristle at Clark’s spotlight. Whether out of envy or frustration, Reese claimed, “People are watching the WNBA not just because of one person—it’s because of me too.” But numbers tell a different story. Clark’s presence is single-handedly driving higher ticket sales, sponsorship interest, and broadcast ratings.
Even ESPN analysts have said it out loud: Clark is the face of the league.
Still, Reese and others continue to downplay Clark’s influence while simultaneously demanding more pay from a league that’s never been financially stable. As Bet-David points out, “You don’t split revenue when there is none. You’re asking for a bigger piece of debt.”
The idea of a player strike, while historically significant in leagues like the MLB and NFL, falls flat in the WNBA’s context. Those leagues generate billions in revenue. The WNBA? Around $150–200 million, most of it consumed by operating costs. No profit means no basis for increased player salaries.
Rather than embrace Clark’s success and use it as leverage to improve the league’s financial standing, Reese’s stance appears more rooted in personal dissatisfaction than strategic thinking. Bet-David called it what it is: “Professional jealousy won’t pay your bills. Fans will. Sponsors will. But only if you give them something worth investing in.”
The controversy highlights a deeper issue in the WNBA—players pushing for NBA-level compensation without NBA-level demand. Until the league becomes self-sustaining, strike threats are less about negotiation leverage and more about unrealistic expectations.
If anything, Reese’s comments may have inadvertently highlighted just how crucial Clark is to the WNBA’s future. And unless the rest of the league starts pulling in the same direction, this rare moment of momentum might be lost.
