In the world of professional sports, momentum is everything. A league’s success is measured not just in wins and losses, but in a delicate and often volatile alchemy of viewership, ticket sales, media buzz, and cultural relevance. For the WNBA, the 2024 season was supposed to be a watershed moment—a spectacular validation of its product and a definitive leap into the mainstream consciousness. Fueled by the unprecedented “Caitlin Clark effect,” the league experienced a surge in attention that was nothing short of historic. Arenas were packed, television ratings soared to new heights, and for the first time in a long time, the WNBA was a central topic in the daily sports discourse. It was a picture of resounding success. But as the postseason began and the league’s brightest new star was absent from the court, that beautiful picture began to warp, revealing cracks in the foundation and sparking a fierce, existential debate: Is the WNBA experiencing genuine, sustainable growth, or is it merely “performing growth” in a desperate attempt to maintain an illusion?

The controversy ignited with a simple, yet damning, observation. As the playoffs kicked off, a time when demand should be at its peak and tickets should be a hot commodity, something strange was happening. In arenas like the Target Center in Minnesota, tickets to premium postseason games were being sold for astonishingly low prices—some for as little as $10. For a league that had just spent months celebrating sell-out crowds and record-breaking demand, this was a jarring contradiction. The empty seats that would have resulted from maintaining standard prices were seemingly a bigger threat than the message sent by slashing them. The league, it appeared, made a calculated choice: sacrifice revenue to protect the brand, ensuring that the television cameras would pan across a full, vibrant arena, even if that vibrancy had been bought at a steep discount.

This move immediately gave rise to a new, cynical term: the “coupon effect.” The narrative that the “Caitlin effect” had lifted the entire league, creating a new, loyal fanbase that would stick around regardless of who was playing, was suddenly thrown into question. The moment Clark was no longer part of the equation, the organic, high-priced demand seemed to evaporate, replaced by a need for deep discounts to fill the stands. It led critics and fans to ask a deeply uncomfortable question: Was the demand real, or was it engineered?

This debate found its most prominent voices in the titans of sports media. On ESPN’s “First Take,” Stephen A. Smith, a powerful and influential voice, did not mince words. He argued that the WNBA was profoundly missing Caitlin Clark’s unique “gravity.” She wasn’t just another talented player; she was a cultural phenomenon, a force of nature who brought in a massive, diverse audience of casual fans, curious onlookers, and even those who had not watched a women’s basketball game in years. The numbers with her in the league, Smith noted, were “astronomical.” Her absence from the playoffs created a vacuum, and the league’s response of slashing ticket prices was, in his view, a clear admission of that reality.

On the other side of the argument stood WNBA legend Sue Bird. A revered figure and a staunch defender of the league, Bird pushed back against the narrative that the WNBA’s success was tethered to a single player. From her perspective, framing the entire season and its aftermath around one individual was a disservice to the dozens of other incredible athletes and compelling storylines that the league had to offer. She argued for a focus on “sustainability” and the cultivation of “stars, plural.” To Bird and her supporters, this wasn’t about jealousy or a refusal to acknowledge Clark’s impact; it was about “brand defense.” It was a necessary stand to protect the long-term health and integrity of the league, ensuring it was not perceived as a fragile entity wholly dependent on a single rookie.

This clash of perspectives—Stephen A. Smith’s pragmatic, numbers-driven analysis versus Sue Bird’s impassioned brand defense—has created a deep chasm in the conversation around the WNBA. The problem, as the video astutely points out, is that both of them are “right in pieces.” Smith is right that Caitlin Clark’s impact was singular and transformative. She changed the scale of the league overnight. To deny the magnitude of her influence is to be willfully blind to the evidence. The sudden need for $10 playoff tickets is a direct consequence of her absence. However, Bird is also right that a league whose fate rises and falls with one player is fundamentally fragile. True, sustainable growth requires a deep roster of stars and a product that can retain fans even when the main attraction is off the stage.

The great danger for the WNBA lies in how it navigates this delicate moment. Fans, as the video sagely notes, are “not dumb.” They witnessed the pre-Clark ecosystem and they have seen the seismic shift that occurred this season. If the league and its defenders insist that nothing has fundamentally changed, that the low ticket prices are meaningless, and that the growth is entirely organic and league-wide, they risk alienating the very audience they are trying to court. This approach feels like gaslighting. It creates a sense of distrust and dishonesty, turning a sports conversation into what feels like a “political meeting.” The nightmare scenario for the WNBA is that this new, expanded audience, feeling that they are being misled, simply walks away.

The path forward requires a more nuanced and honest approach. The smart move is not to deny Clark’s gravitational pull, but to harness it. The NBA provides a perfect blueprint. The league didn’t pretend that Michael Jordan was just another player. It leaned into his superstardom, using his immense popularity as a gateway to introduce casual fans to the likes of Scottie Pippen, Karl Malone, and the rest of the league. After Jordan, the NBA built its brand around the compelling rivalry of Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal, and later, the generational talents of LeBron James and Stephen Curry. The model is clear: use the gravitational pull of a mega-draw to onboard casual fans, and then retain them with a rich tapestry of layered storylines, rivalries, and a diverse cast of compelling stars.

The WNBA is at a pivotal crossroads. It has been given a golden opportunity, a massive injection of attention and energy, courtesy of Caitlin Clark. The challenge now is to convert that energy into a sustainable power source. This requires acknowledging Clark’s unique role while simultaneously elevating the league’s other incredible athletes. It means being honest with the fans about the challenges it faces, rather than pretending they don’t exist. The $10 playoff ticket is not just a price point; it is a symbol of this critical moment of decision. It represents a choice between short-term image management and a long-term strategy for authentic, durable growth. How the WNBA responds will determine whether the 2024 season is remembered as the year it truly arrived, or simply the year it performed a convincing illusion of success.