Napheesa Collier’s recent public rebuke of WNBA leadership, which came after a hotly-debated no-call in the last minute of the Lynx’s semi-final game against the Mercury that left Collier with an ankle injury, Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve with a one-game suspension and league-record $15,000 fine (and then two other coaches were fined $1000 each for agreeing with her!), and Phoenix forward Alyssa Thomas with the ball, has launched an abundance of conversations about the state of the league and, especially, its leadership. Collier minced no words, calling out the WNBA for having the “worst leadership in the world,” uncaring and patronizing, “tone-deaf” and “dismissive.”
That this has come in a moment of unprecedented success on the court and in the marketplace for the WNBA instead of a moment of crisis makes what is playing out in the media about much more than the complaints of one player who has suffered a season ending injury. This is about the kind of leadership that the WNBA needs, now, in the midst of historic ratings, elite play, and record-breaking media deals to the tune of $2.2 billion.
At the center of Collier’s complaints was league Commissioner Cathy Engelbert. Collier accused Engelbert of failing to take players’ complaints seriously. Instead of listening to arguments for league standouts to be better compensated, Collier said that Engelbert thought rock stars like Caitlin Clark should be “grateful” -- even using the egregious and loaded phrase “on their knees” -- for the money they get off the court, empowered by visibility gained through the WNBA, a take that completely ignores Clark’s star power as a college player in Iowa.
Clark, for her part, called Collier’s statements to be “very valid,” and other players followed suit, ensuring that the dialogue did not remain one player’s gripes, but rather represented a more collective voice. That collective, of course, is part of Collier’s gambit: she is Vice President of the WNBA Players’ Association, which is in the middle of negotiating a new collective bargaining agreement. She is not someone, then, who makes such revelatory statements lightly, or without receipts.
Engelbert’s responses -- she denied some of Collier’s claims and has promised that both she and the league would “do better” -- have felt flat, at best, in the wake of a star player’s visible exasperation with league leadership and its ability to manage success. It might be tempting for the WNBA to believe that its success -- revenue is up, viewership continues to grow, and, importantly, the league is increasingly culturally relevant -- excuses anything that Collier has put on the table.But success without accountability, whether talking about officiating, player safety, governance, and so on, falls short of what an organization’s head office needs to do.
The optics of dismissiveness in the wake of Collier’s claims -- particularly a commissioner belittling players for complaining or thinking that a player should be “grateful” for what she gets -- signals a hierarchy divorced from respect and inclusive working relationships. Collier wasn’t protesting the league. Rather, she was demanding a recalibration between the league and its players. More than a promise to do better, the WNBA has to create systemic accountability, from officiating standards to giving players a seat at the table, with public benchmarks for success clearly defined, and a leadership that welcomes critique rather than condemns and denies.
Napheesa Collier’s boldness—her unwillingness to remain silent in a moment of personal injury and professional frustration—signals leadership rising from the field, demanding that the structure off the court catch up to where the players are and where they want to go. “The league has made it clear it isn't about innovation,” Collier said. “It isn't about collaboration, it's about control and power.”
Her words need to be seen for the breakpoint moment that they are —not just in league history, but in how we think of leadership in any high-performing organization, perhaps especially women’s sports. The bottom line? Success is never an excuse for complacency. And the time is now for the WNBA -- and the NBA that it still answers to, and that is no small part of this watershed moment -- to do better. I’ve said it many times before, and I will continue to do so: listen to athletes for a change.
Amy Bass is professor of sport studies and chair of the division of social science and communication at Manhattanville University. Bass is the author of ONE GOAL: A COACH, A TEAM, AND THE GAME THAT BROUGHT A DIVDED TOWN TOGETHER, among other titles. In 2012, she won an Emmy for her work with NBC Olympic Sports on the London Olympic Games.
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