In the high-stakes world of professional sports, leagues are not just governing bodies; they are corporations. Their most valuable assets are not the teams or the arenas, but the superstar players who transcend the game, captivating audiences and driving massive revenue streams. The NBA understood this in the 1980s when a high-flying guard from North Carolina named Michael Jordan arrived. They protected him, not just for his sake, but for the sake of the entire league’s financial future. Now, decades later, the WNBA finds itself with its own transcendent star, a “golden egg” named Caitlin Clark, and according to a growing chorus of critics, the league is committing the cardinal sin of failing to protect its most valuable asset.

The alarm is being sounded most loudly by those who have been through the trenches of professional basketball. Former NBA player Olden Polynice did not mince words, labeling the WNBA’s handling of Clark as nothing short of “clown behavior.” He argues that the league is exhibiting a shocking lack of business acumen, allowing its biggest star to be subjected to a level of physical aggression and a lack of officiating protection that is not just detrimental to her, but self-destructive to the league itself. The parallels to Jordan’s early career are both striking and damning. When Jordan entered the NBA, he was a revelation, but he was also a target. Teams like the “Bad Boy” Detroit Pistons made it their mission to rough him up, to physically intimidate him out of his greatness. The NBA, recognizing that Jordan’s health and ability to perform were directly tied to the league’s booming popularity, eventually implemented rule changes and officiating directives—the “Jordan Rules” of a different sort—to protect its star. It wasn’t about favoritism; it was about protecting the investment.

The WNBA, it seems, has yet to learn this crucial lesson. From the moment Caitlin Clark stepped onto a professional court, she has been a marked woman. The physical play she endures goes far beyond typical rookie hazing. She is pushed, shoved, and hammered on a nightly basis, often with no whistle from the referees. This isn’t just a perception; it’s a visible reality for anyone tuning in to watch the phenomenon that is “Clark-mania.” The very player who is single-handedly driving ticket sales through the roof, shattering viewership records, and bringing unprecedented media attention to the league is being treated like just another player, or worse, a target whose struggles are seemingly condoned by official inaction.

This perplexing approach was evident from the very beginning of her rookie season. The league’s scheduling decisions sent Clark and her Indiana Fever team into a gauntlet, facing the league’s toughest and most physical defenses right out of the gate. While a trial by fire can forge a stronger player, this felt different. It felt less like a strategic challenge and more like feeding a lamb to the wolves, a decision that led to a difficult start for the young star and fueled a narrative that she was “struggling” to adapt, a narrative gleefully pushed by her detractors.

And those detractors, shockingly, are not just rival fans. A significant source of the animosity appears to stem from within the league itself—from fellow players. This is where the situation moves from questionable strategy to toxic hypocrisy. For years, a central talking point for the WNBA has been the demand for higher player salaries and better compensation. Clark’s arrival has been the single greatest catalyst for the revenue increase that could make those demands a reality. Her presence has led to teams moving games to larger arenas to accommodate ticket demand, lucrative new media deals, and a massive surge in merchandise sales. She is, quite literally, the rising tide that should be lifting all boats.

Yet, instead of embracing her as the key to their collective financial future, many players have responded with what can only be described as jealousy. There’s a palpable resentment that a rookie has commanded this much attention, a refusal to acknowledge that her “hype” is backed by undeniable talent and, more importantly, is beneficial to everyone. This jealousy manifests not just in the hard fouls on the court, but in the dismissive comments to the media and the petty actions off the court.

Perhaps no incident encapsulates this better than the WNBA All-Star voting. As basketball legend Dick Vitale pointedly remarked, Clark’s shockingly low ranking among guards was not an honest reflection of her performance or her impact. It was, in his words, a clear attempt by her peers to “send a message.” It was an act of collective jealousy, a misguided effort to humble a player whose popularity they resent, even as they stand to profit from it.

The league’s administration and even some media allies have further complicated the issue by creating false narratives. In one particularly bizarre instance, Indiana Fever fans were investigated for alleged racism after booing Angel Reese, a prominent rival of Clark’s. The investigation completely missed the point: the fans weren’t booing Reese because of her race; they were booing her because they perceived her as one of the players targeting their star. It was a defensive reaction from a fanbase watching their franchise player get beat up, misinterpreted through a lens that seemed determined to paint Clark’s supporters in a negative light.

This all points to a larger, more troubling issue of pride and a toxic internal culture. The WNBA seems to be so fiercely protective of its established order that it’s willing to sacrifice its own growth. The refusal to fully embrace and protect Caitlin Clark is not just a failure of officiating; it’s a failure of vision. The league is standing on a mountain of gold, holding the winning lottery ticket, and actively refusing to cash it in because of pride and internal strife.

The question is no longer whether Caitlin Clark can handle the pressure. She has proven her resilience time and again. The real question is whether the WNBA can handle its own success. Can the league and its players overcome their pride and jealousy to capitalize on this once-in-a-generation opportunity? Or will they continue their “clown behavior,” allowing their most valuable asset to be battered and their golden goose to be cooked by the very people who stand to benefit the most from its existence? The future of the league may very well depend on the answer.