The world of women’s professional basketball is teetering on the edge of a monumental transformation, with the very foundation of the WNBA facing an existential threat unlike anything in its 28-year history. A new, Saudi-backed super league, ominously named “Project B,” is poised to launch, armed with an unimaginable financial arsenal, and it’s already sending shockwaves through the American league. Reports surfacing from inside the basketball world suggest that the biggest names in women’s basketball are being targeted with life-changing contracts, figures that dwarf anything the WNBA can currently offer, igniting fears that the league could be decimated.

This isn’t merely another competing league; it’s a declaration of war in the global sports arena. Project B, founded by former Google and Facebook executive Grady Bernett and Skype co-founder Jeff Aenis, has been two years in the making. It’s set to feature six teams of 11 players each, competing in seven two-week tournaments across cities in Asia, Europe, and the Americas. The concept is simple yet world-altering: create a high-paying women’s basketball league that travels continents, offering unparalleled compensation and exposure. And with vast Saudi funding, the money involved is unlike anything the WNBA could ever dream of matching.

Early rumors of Project B were dismissed as just that—rumors. But within days, credible insiders began confirming the terrifying reality: this wasn’t some vague startup. It was a fully funded global league, already boasting a formidable team of investors and advisors, including former WNBA star Alina Beard as Chief Basketball Officer, and sports legends like Candace Parker, Steve Young, Novak Djokovic, and Sloane Stephens. Headquartered in Singapore, Project B instantly gained legitimacy, turning “what if” into “it’s happening.”

The true seismic event, however, was the scale of the contracts being discussed. Reports indicate that players could earn ten times their current WNBA salaries, with conservative estimates placing offers between $50 million and an astounding $100 million for top players. Imagine Caitlin Clark, who earns under $100,000 in her base WNBA salary, being offered $50 million for a single season with Project B. Or WNBA veterans, who often balance their American season with grueling overseas stints just to make ends meet, suddenly being promised generational wealth for a few months of play, complete with luxury accommodations and global travel. The allure is undeniable, making loyalty to the WNBA a luxury many simply cannot afford.

For WNBA Commissioner Cathy Engelbert, already grappling with stalled Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) negotiations and mounting player dissatisfaction, Project B’s emergence is a nightmare scenario. Panic reportedly spread quickly through the WNBA front office as these figures circulated. How do you compete with a league that can outpay you by a hundredfold? The WNBA’s biggest fear isn’t just losing players; it’s losing its very stars—the faces that drive ticket sales, sponsorships, and fan engagement. The thought of Caitlin Clark, the league’s most watched rookie, suddenly vanishing from the WNBA schedule to headline an international tour is catastrophic. The ripple effect on ratings, sponsorships, and fan loyalty would be devastating, potentially stripping the league of its marketable identity overnight.

Initially, some WNBA executives reportedly dismissed Project B, noting its schedule would run during the WNBA offseason. But that illusion of harmless coexistence quickly shattered. This wasn’t a side project; it was a direct, existential challenge. The pattern is clear, echoing Saudi Arabia’s aggressive expansion into other major sports like golf and soccer. The LIV Golf League proved its power by luring top golfers with hundreds of millions, eventually forcing the PGA into a desperate merger. Then came soccer, where icons like Cristiano Ronaldo and Neymar signed contracts worth astronomical sums for just a few seasons. Saudi money isn’t just buying sports; it’s reshaping them, and now, that same playbook is being applied to women’s basketball.

Project B’s strategy is surgically precise. They aren’t chasing mid-level talent; they are targeting the undisputed faces of the WNBA—Caitlin Clark, Angel Reese, A’ja Wilson, Breanna Stewart, and Paige Bueckers. These players represent marketing goldmines, possessing unique followings and influence. Clark’s nationwide appeal, Reese’s social media prowess, Wilson’s championship pedigree, Stewart’s international credibility, and Bueckers’ college crossover appeal could collectively turn Project B’s debut into a spectacle the WNBA simply cannot rival.

The offers are being described as “transformational.” Instead of long-term contracts, Project B is reportedly preparing short-term, tournament-based deals with hefty upfront payments, appearance bonuses, and even individual brand equity clauses that would allow players to own shares in the league’s media revenue—a model virtually unheard of in women’s basketball. Coupled with full creative freedom over endorsements, personal branding, and streaming rights, this level of autonomy is priceless for athletes who have long fought restrictive WNBA marketing rules. When agents confirmed that Saudi investors had already allocated hundreds of millions in guaranteed funding, interest skyrocketed. The pitch is simple: why settle for less when you can set the market? For the first time, players could dictate terms instead of being told their worth.

Behind closed doors, WNBA executives scrambled, with Commissioner Engelbert reportedly convening emergency calls. Adam Silver, the NBA Commissioner, has been quietly monitoring the situation, understanding the broader stakes. He’s seen this movie before; these same Saudi investors almost disrupted the NBA’s global dominance. Silver’s involvement signals that this is no longer just a WNBA issue but a threat to the entire NBA ecosystem. He’s been pushing for fast-track solutions, including potential salary restructuring and expansion timeline adjustments within the WNBA. However, the WNBA’s revenue-sharing model, where the NBA owns nearly half the league, complicates independent decision-making, making rapid, aggressive responses difficult.

As rumors of multi-million dollar offers circulated, players began breaking their silence. Social media became a battleground of opinions, with some hailing Project B as the long-awaited revolution for women’s sports, finally giving athletes the leverage to demand real change. Others expressed deep discomfort about the source of the funding, questioning the ethics of accepting Saudi money given the country’s human rights record, particularly concerning women’s rights. This moral divide has ignited fierce debate within the community, creating an ideological tug-of-war between financial independence and moral principle. For Engelbert and Silver, this ethical tension makes their defense even harder. Attacking Project B could make them appear anti-progress, while remaining silent looks like surrender. Their current defense relies on quiet diplomacy, personal outreach, and vague promises—words that ring hollow to players staring at life-changing contracts.

The most dangerous aspect for the WNBA isn’t just the money or the competition; it’s the fundamental shift in mindset. Players, once united around building the WNBA together, are now divided by ideology: loyalty versus legacy, stability versus freedom. And with every debate, every quote, every tweet, one message echoes louder: the WNBA no longer controls its own narrative. Recruiters for Project B are already finalizing travel logistics, venue deals, and broadcast partners in Asia and Europe. The league is ready to launch, backed by financial firepower that allows it to act without hesitation.

As Project B’s November launch date looms, the WNBA is locked in a frantic race against time. Emergency measures are being rolled out, including accelerated CBA talks with proposals for increased salary caps, higher bonuses, and expanded revenue sharing. But even the most generous projections don’t come close to Project B’s offers. The league cannot print money it doesn’t have. Adam Silver’s intensified involvement, exploring NBA partnerships for sponsorship deals and media exposure, offers a glimmer of hope, but these solutions take time—time the WNBA simply doesn’t have.

Franchise owners are panicking, understanding that ticket sales and sponsorships are directly tied to star players. The departure of even a few headliners could mean millions in lost revenue, with national TV deals potentially evaporating overnight. Some owners are pushing for drastic solutions, including temporary subsidies from the NBA, a move that would tacitly admit the WNBA cannot sustain itself independently.

What began as whispers has now culminated in confirmed signings (though names remain unreleased). Project B’s unveiling was cinematic, promising an era of elite tournaments, international exposure, and limitless earning potential. The message was unmistakable: the WNBA’s monopoly on women’s basketball is over. Saudi investors aren’t just launching a league; they are declaring war on the existing order. The WNBA, a league built on resilience and community, is suddenly staring down a future dictated by billion-dollar power plays, not passion for the game.

The innocence is gone. Players have tasted their worth. The Saudis have made their move. The WNBA now fights for survival against a system with unlimited money and zero patience, a storm that has already begun swallowing other major sports globally. The future of women’s basketball has arrived, and it carries a Saudi seal. Whether the WNBA adapts or collapses, one thing is clear: women’s basketball will never return to the old way of doing business.