In the annals of professional sports, there are moments of evolution, and then there are moments of violent, landscape-shattering revolution. For the WNBA, that revolution may not just be knocking at the door; it’s preparing to burn the house down. A new, shadowy league, codenamed “Project B,” is arming itself with a war chest of Saudi funding, and it has one target in its sights: the WNBA’s entire talent roster. This isn’t just competition. According to insiders, this is an “extinction-level event.”

At the center of this brewing storm is the one player who has given the league a generational lifeline: Caitlin Clark. The numbers being whispered in executive circles are staggering—seven-figure contracts for role players, eight figures for stars. And for Clark, the number isn’t $20 million or $50 million. It’s $200 million.

A week ago, the idea of Clark playing anywhere but the WNBA would have been laughable. She is a purist, a loyalist who has turned down other leagues. But this isn’t about chasing a few extra dollars. This is about the WNBA’s catastrophic failure to protect and respect its own golden goose. The league’s perceived toxicity, combined with this life-altering money, has created a perfect storm. And the most terrifying part for the WNBA? The person leading the charge from the inside is one of their own: Hall of Fame legend Candace Parker.

This is not speculation. Parker is a confirmed investor in Project B, and she is allegedly having “very interesting conversations” with current WNBA stars, including Aaliyah Boston. She has the access, the respect, and, most importantly, a powerful motive.

Parker’s grievance is not with the game; it’s with the front office, specifically Commissioner Cathy Engelbert. In a stunning revelation, Parker detailed the stark contrast between the NBA and WNBA leadership. When Parker signed a broadcast deal with Amazon, had her third child, or retired, NBA Commissioner Adam Silver was the one sending personal congratulations, Christmas gifts, and baby gifts. He acknowledged her contribution to the game.

And from Cathy Engelbert? “Radio silence.” Not a text. Not a call. Not even a form email from an assistant.

That kind of cold shoulder doesn’t just sting; it severs loyalty. Parker isn’t acting out of bitterness; she’s operating as a clear-eyed businesswoman who understands she was working for a league that did not value its legends. Now, she is in a position to offer current players what the WNBA seemingly cannot: respect, value, and life-changing money.

So what is this mysterious “Project B” that has the WNBA panicking? This is not a pipe dream. The league was founded by tech titans, not basketball hopefuls: Grady Bernett, a former Google and Facebook executive, and Jeff Apprentice, the co-founder of Skype. These are men who understand how to scale global products.

Their list of backers reads like a who’s who of elite sports: US Open champion Sloan Stevens, NFL Hall of Famer Steve Young, and tennis icon Novak Djokovic. Critically, WNBA great Elena Delle Donne is serving as the league’s Chief Basketball Officer, giving it instant operational legitimacy.

The offer is simple and brutal: they plan to pay 10 times the current WNBA salaries. A veteran on a $300,000 minimum contract could be offered $3 million. A solid role player like Sophie Cunningham, known for her star power and personality, could reportedly fetch $5 million—a 20-times multiplier on her WNBA salary. That isn’t just a raise; it’s the difference between being “comfortable” and being “set for life.”

And here is the master stroke: Project B is reportedly offering equity. Not just paychecks, but actual ownership stakes in the league. This is the kind of long-term wealth-building deal that changes family trees, something the WNBA has never, and likely will never, offer.

If this strategy sounds familiar, it’s because it is. This is the “LIV Golf Playbook” deployed with surgical precision. Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund disrupted the entire sport of golf by offering “world-breaking contracts” that the PGA Tour simply could not match. Phil Mickelson took $200 million. Jon Rahm, who had “sworn up and down” he’d never leave the PGA, took a reported $300 million.

Project B is even more dangerous. Its proposed format is a 14-week season comprised of seven tournaments across Asia, Europe, and the Americas. Crucially, this season runs during the WNBA offseason. On paper, players could do both. But no one believes that. The moment a star player signs an eight-figure contract, that contract will almost certainly come with an exclusivity clause. A choice will be forced: “Play here, or play there. Not both.”

The WNBA has had decades to fix its pay structure and has consistently failed. Now, players are about to be presented with an alternative they cannot ignore. This brings us to the $200 million question: Why would Caitlin Clark, the ultimate traditionalist, actually say yes?

First, the competition argument is about to collapse. The WNBA has been the pinnacle because it has the best players. But what happens when Project B offers A’ja Wilson, Paige Bueckers, and Kelsey Plum eight-figure deals? If even a handful of elite stars jump ship, the WNBA is no longer the “top competition.” Suddenly, Clark would be choosing between two legitimate pro leagues, one of which pays 20 times more.

Second is the undeniable toxicity Clark has endured. The league, its players, and segments of the media have not rolled out the red carpet. She has been physically targeted on the court in ways the league has refused to meaningfully address, all while being downplayed and minimized off it.

This leads to the third and most critical reason: the WNBA’s own leadership. Commissioner Engelbert’s public statements have been a case study in fumbling a generational opportunity. When asked about officiating issues, her response was, “Only the losers complain about the refs.” When asked about the laughably low rookie salaries for players like Clark and Angel Reese—who are driving massive revenue—Engelbert’s answer was that Clark should be “grateful” she makes $60 million off the court, a platform the WNBA gave her. She even reportedly said players should be “on their knees thanking their lucky stars” for the media deal she secured.

Compare that environment to what Project B would offer: first-class travel, creative input, and a seat at the table. She would be treated as royalty, valued for the billion-dollar entity she is.

Fourth, there is the money itself. The $200 million figure isn’t insane; it’s a smart investment. Clark was independently evaluated as being worth $1 billion to the WNBA. She is responsible for 50% of league viewership, has more than doubled team values, and is the primary reason for the new $2 billion media deal. By that math, even a $500 million offer would likely be a good deal. If Project B lands Clark, it’s “game over.” The league becomes an instant “money printer.”

Finally, there is the legacy. Many argue that playing in a Saudi-backed league would tarnish it. The transcript offers a powerful counter-example: Diana Taurasi. The WNBA’s GOAT was literally paid by Russia to skip an entire WNBA season to rest for her Russian team. When she returned? Her legacy was “untouched.” Clark could follow this path: take $200 million, play overseas for three seasons, and return to the WNBA at 27, still in her prime, to build her US-based legacy after securing her family’s future for generations.

The WNBA is a mess. It has treated its fans and its biggest star poorly. A change in leadership might inject new life, but the next CBA negotiation is a powder keg that could collapse and delay or cancel the 2026 season.

Into this chaos steps Project B, armed with limitless money and a mission. The WNBA has been warned for years that players will eventually go where they are valued. That warning is no longer a hypothetical. It’s a contract, and it’s waiting for a signature.