The LPGA Just Handed the WNBA a Humiliating Masterclass in How to Treat a Generational Superstar
The scene was the Annika Pro-Am, a prestigious golf tournament hosted by Hall-of-Famer Annika Sörenstam. The star of the day was not a top-ranked LPGA professional, but Caitlin Clark, the Indiana Fever rookie whose name has become synonymous with seismic shifts in viewership and revenue across women’s sports. What transpired over the course of that day, however, was far more than a simple celebrity appearance. It was a complete, professional, and overwhelmingly positive embrace of Clark’s superstar power—a masterclass that instantly threw into sharp relief the painful, ongoing failure of her own league, the WNBA, to manage its greatest asset.

The contrast between Clark’s reception on the golf course and the drama, hostility, and “weirdness” she has routinely faced in professional basketball is brutal, embarrassing, and undeniably instructional. On one side, you had an entire sports ecosystem—players, organizers, commentators, and fans—delivering a unified message of respect, excitement, and unreserved appreciation. On the other, the WNBA continues to struggle with a mindset that suggests a star’s success is a threat to be managed rather than a gift to be celebrated and leveraged.

The Blueprint: Embrace, Don’t Resent
If the WNBA needed a literal blueprint for how to capitalize on the cultural phenomenon that is Caitlin Clark, the LPGA provided it on a silver platter. The response to Clark’s presence was instantaneous and astronomical.

Golf legend Annika Sörenstam was candid, not shy, about Clark’s commercial value and appeal. She spoke of the excitement Clark brought to the tournament, noting, “We had a lot of people come out, they were standing on the first tee at 7:00 a.m. waiting for her.” Crucially, Sörenstam highlighted Clark’s relatability and her ability to engage with fans, emphasizing that her presence “brings more people to the game, brings more people to the tournament.” This is the key: an acknowledgement that Clark is a tide that lifts all boats, not a competitor for finite resources.

The metrics are not merely impressive; they are a staggering testament to Clark’s unique drawing power. Last year’s Pro-Am saw ticket sales explode by an unprecedented 13 times the previous year’s numbers. This isn’t a small bump; it’s a shock wave of new fans entering a venue, a sport, and a community.

The digital engagement was equally mind-boggling. On Pro-Am day alone, the social media platform X (formerly Twitter) erupted with nearly 2,700 posts referencing Clark playing, generating over 18 million impressions in a single day. Furthermore, the tournament’s Instagram views skyrocketed by 591% compared to the previous year, while website traffic surged by 121%. Every single metric—tickets, TV segments (395 segments mentioning Clark and Annika), and social buzz—went straight into orbit the moment Clark arrived.

What Sörenstam and the LPGA leadership understood is that Clark brings an entirely new demographic—fans who might never have watched a women’s pro-am or even cared about golf—suddenly invested because a player they adore is involved. They didn’t just tolerate her star power; they made it a central part of the event’s identity.

The Ego Trap: Nelly Korda vs. Shakira Austin
Perhaps the most devastating comparison, however, comes from the players themselves, laying bare the night-and-day difference in competitive mindset.

Consider Nelly Korda, the 2024 LPGA Player of the Year and one of the best female golfers on the planet. When asked about the electric atmosphere and being alongside Clark, Korda described it as “crazy” and “something out of a book.” She wasn’t jealous; she was genuinely grateful. “It’s cool to see how many people she brings together to another sport,” Korda remarked. She understood that more fans, more cameras, and more excitement translates to better business, better sponsorships, and more attention for the entire LPGA. There was no ego, no insecurity, just a clear recognition that Clark’s rising tide helps everyone.

Now, compare this graceful acceptance to the commentary that has emanated from certain quarters of the WNBA. The video highlights a specific reaction from Washington Mystics player Shakira Austin, following a game that was moved to a larger arena to accommodate the Clark-fueled crowds. Austin’s post-game presser made her feelings known, expressing frustration and saying she hoped the team could get “some real support from our own fans.” She went on to state: “If fans were here to support us and it felt like a home game I wouldn’t mind coming out here… but if they’re going to be wishy-washy then keep it in DC.”

This single quote perfectly encapsulates the WNBA’s core problem. The LPGA’s message is “Thank you for being here, this helps all of us.” The WNBA’s message, articulated by some of its players, is “You’re only welcome if you’re cheering for me.” The golf players recognized a unique business opportunity; some WNBA players saw a personal affront. It is the difference between an organization embracing growth and a collection of individuals trapped in an ego-driven, scarcity mindset.

The Tiger Woods Analogy and Media Blindness

The LPGA’s experience with Clark is likely so positive because the sport has experienced a phenomenon of this magnitude before. As one commentator noted, Clark is nothing less than the “Tiger Woods of women’s basketball.”

Tiger Woods single-handedly brought millions of non-traditional fans to golf. People who never watched a Sunday final suddenly rearranged their weekends to see him play. Clark is doing the exact same thing for the WNBA. We have empirical evidence: when Clark plays, ratings skyrocket to record levels; when she doesn’t, they collapse by more than 50% almost instantly. She is the singular engine driving the league’s unprecedented financial momentum.

Yet, this reality remains constantly under threat of distortion, especially in mainstream sports media. While the golf broadcast openly and respectfully discussed Clark’s phenomenal impact and the new demographic she brings, networks like ESPN often work overtime to spin a narrative that suggests the WNBA’s growth is happening independent of her, selectively comparing 2025 numbers to 2023, while glossing over the record-shattering year Clark actually provided. This intellectual dishonesty only serves to fuel the resentment and undermine the generational star. The LPGA, by contrast, wasn’t dodging anything; they embraced Clark’s impact and made it a feature, not a bug, of their event’s identity.

A Lesson in Star Management
This entire episode is a case study in what it means to be a professional sports league in the 21st century. The WNBA doesn’t need to build Clark a statue or roll out a red carpet every day. What it does need is a fundamental shift in culture and perspective. It needs to foster an environment where players understand that when a star is celebrated and treated with the deference her impact dictates, the collective good is maximized.

The LPGA’s behavior—down to the charming detail of Clark’s teammates, Sophie Cunningham and Lexi Hall, serving as caddies in Fever-inspired bibs—is a perfect example of fan base expansion. Fans come for Clark, but they leave having interacted with and become invested in two other Fever players. It’s textbook, low-stakes, high-impact marketing, showcasing the superstar’s ability to elevate those around her. The fact that Cunningham has reportedly softened her stance on her future and now openly hopes to return to the Fever is perhaps another piece of evidence of Clark’s positive, gravitational pull.

The WNBA has a generational talent—a player capable of changing the trajectory of women’s basketball forever—and much of the league has responded with thinly veiled hostility and a desperate desire to diminish her influence. The LPGA simply demonstrated the path not taken: the path of gratitude, business sense, and mutual respect. The lesson is clear, the contrast is stark, and the embarrassment for the WNBA is profound. They were given a free, open-source masterclass on how to treat a superstar, and they continue to fail the test.