The $700 Million Question: Inside the WNBA’s CBA Showdown

Part 1: A New Year, A New Battle

It was the first week of January, and the energy in the Bendo podcast studio was electric. The hosts, known for their no-nonsense approach, wasted no time cutting through the noise. “Welcome to the Bendo podcast where we’re calling a spade a spade,” they declared. The new year had barely begun, but already, the WNBA was gripped by a crisis that could reshape its future.

The tension was palpable. Negotiations between the WNBA and its Players Association over a new collective bargaining agreement (CBA) were approaching a critical January 9th deadline. Both sides were entrenched, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. The latest proposal from the players had sent shockwaves through the league: a demand for 30% of gross revenue, a $10.5 million salary cap, and average salaries nearing $1 million. The owners, in turn, warned that agreeing to such terms would result in catastrophic losses—$700 million, to be exact.

Part 2: The Anatomy of a Proposal

The numbers were dizzying. A million-dollar average salary. A $2.5 million max salary. For the podcast hosts, the math was almost comical. “A million dollars for a middle-of-the-road player? You’ve got to be kidding me,” they laughed, running through the calculations on air. “If we take the union’s word for it, they’d have no idea whether that projection is true or false.”

But beneath the humor lay a serious question: Was the league really at risk of losing more money in one deal than it had in its entire 29-year history? The owners said yes. The union said absolutely not. The truth, as always, was more complicated.

Part 3: Behind Closed Doors

Sources close to the negotiations painted a picture of deep mistrust. The players, frustrated by a lack of transparency, argued that they didn’t have access to the league’s financial books. The owners, meanwhile, insisted their projections were based on audited data. Both sides accused the other of hiding something.

The union’s proposal, obtained by ESPN, was ambitious. It featured a salary cap of $12.5 million in 2026, a $1 million average salary, and a $2.5 million max salary. The league’s response was swift: “That would put the league out of business.”

Part 4: The Expansion Dilemma

Complicating matters further was the issue of expansion fees. The WNBA was set to grow to 18 teams, with Portland and Toronto joining in 2026 and Cleveland, Detroit, and Philadelphia paying $250 million each to enter between 2028 and 2030. The players saw expansion fees as real money that should be counted as revenue. The league, however, considered them a wash—money that provided no net benefit once future revenue shares were factored in.

“It’s a Ponzi scheme,” joked the podcast hosts. “New investors pay the old investors. New suckers pay the old suckers.” But for the players, expansion represented opportunity—a chance to grow the league and increase their share of the pie.

Part 5: The Revenue Sharing Divide

At the heart of the standoff was the definition of revenue itself. The league proposed a system where players would receive over 50% of net revenue—revenue after expenses. The union wanted 30% of gross revenue, before expenses. The difference was enormous.

The league’s December 18th proposal included uncapped revenue sharing, maximum salaries climbing to nearly $2 million, and average salaries rising above $780,000 over the life of the deal. Minimum salaries would exceed a quarter million in the first year alone. By comparison, in 2025, the super max was $250,000, the average salary $120,000, and the minimum just $66,000.

Yet, for the players, it wasn’t enough. They believed those who provided the labor shouldn’t be paid last. “The players don’t really generate the money,” countered the hosts. “More recently, the union has proposed a lower salary cap closer to $10.5 million. But as long as they don’t move off their 30%, the deal’s never going to get done.”

Part 6: The Media’s Spotlight

As the clock ticked toward the January 9th deadline, the media’s lens intensified. Every leak, every quote, every number became front-page news. ESPN, sports blogs, and social media accounts dissected the proposals, amplifying the tension and uncertainty. Fans weighed in with passionate takes, some supporting the players’ demand for a bigger slice of the pie, others warning that the league couldn’t sustain such ambitious paydays.

For the Bendo podcast and its listeners, the spectacle was both entertaining and unnerving. “Eight more days until we find out what’s going on,” the hosts reminded their audience, their voices mixing skepticism with genuine concern. Would the union strike? Would the owners cave? Or would the league, as some feared, teeter on the brink of collapse?

Part 7: The Economics Behind the Numbers

Beneath the headlines, the financial realities were daunting. The WNBA had seen tremendous growth in recent years—more teams, higher ratings, increased media coverage. But the hosts argued that the growth might have peaked. “We already saw ratings go down year-over-year,” they explained. “Numbers wise, they went up, but when you factor in how they’re now counting ratings, they went down.”

The math was unforgiving. If the league’s revenue projections were accurate, agreeing to the union’s terms could mean losses that dwarfed anything seen before. Yet the union believed their model would keep the league profitable, especially if expansion fees were counted as revenue. The owners disagreed, viewing expansion as a necessary but costly tradeoff.

Both sides had valid points, but neither was willing to budge. The union had authorized a strike, but that didn’t mean one would happen. Still, the possibility hung over every conversation, every negotiation, every sleepless night.

Part 8: The Human Stories

Lost amid the numbers and negotiations were the personal stories of the players themselves. For many, the stakes were deeply personal. A million-dollar salary could change the lives of not just the stars, but the role players—the Dana Evanses, the Tammy Bentleys, the Elizabeth Williamses. For others, the fight was about respect, recognition, and a belief that their contributions deserved more than the minimum.

On the owners’ side, the stakes were just as real. Many had invested millions into the league, risking their own fortunes to build something lasting. They wanted to pay players more, but not at the expense of the league’s survival.

The Bendo podcast hosts understood this human drama. Their jokes and skepticism masked a genuine appreciation for the athletes and the game. “I love you, Tammy, but that’s crazy,” they laughed, acknowledging the absurdity of the numbers even as they respected the players’ ambition.

Part 9: The Impasse

With days to go before the deadline, both sides remained dug in. The union wouldn’t move off its 30% demand. The owners wouldn’t agree to terms that threatened the league’s future. Negotiations continued, extensions were granted, but the sense of urgency grew.

Fans watched and waited, their hopes and fears reflected in every podcast episode, every article, every tweet. Would there be a breakthrough? Or would the league face a painful reckoning?

Part 10: The Strike Threat

As January 9th approached, anxiety rippled through the league. The word “strike” was no longer a distant possibility—it was a looming reality. Players trained with uncertainty, coaches scrambled to prepare for scenarios they’d never faced, and owners braced for impact. The union’s resolve was clear: unless their demands were met, they were prepared to walk.

The media turned up the volume. Headlines speculated about the fallout—a season delayed, careers disrupted, legacies put on hold. Pundits debated the merits of both sides. Was the union’s 30% demand justified, given the risks and responsibilities players shouldered? Or were they pushing too hard, too fast, risking the very existence of the league they’d fought to build?

Part 11: The Anatomy of Negotiation

Behind closed doors, the real work continued. Negotiators parsed every line of every proposal, hunting for common ground. The league offered incremental raises, uncapped revenue sharing, and a vision of sustainable growth. The union countered with numbers that reflected their value, their sacrifice, and their dreams.

Expansion fees remained a sticking point. The union saw them as windfalls that should benefit labor. The league saw them as necessary investments, offset by future obligations. Both sides understood the stakes, but neither wanted to be the first to blink.

The tension was not just about money—it was about trust. The players wanted transparency, access to the books, a seat at the table. The owners wanted assurances that their investments would not be wiped out by unsustainable spending. In the end, both wanted the same thing: a league that could thrive for generations.

Part 12: The Final Hours

On the eve of the deadline, hope and fear mingled. Social media buzzed with speculation. Would a deal be struck? Would the union follow through on its strike threat? Would the season, and the league’s momentum, be lost?

In boardrooms and locker rooms, the mood was tense but determined. Players rallied around each other, reminding themselves why they played. Owners weighed risks and rewards, searching for the path forward. The Bendo podcast, like so many fans, waited and watched, ready to call a spade a spade, whatever the outcome.

Part 13: The Resolution

In the end, compromise was inevitable. The union agreed to a slightly lower percentage, the league committed to more transparency and incremental salary growth, and both sides pledged to work together to ensure the WNBA’s future. The deal was not perfect—no deal ever is—but it reflected the realities of the moment and the hopes for the future.

The strike was averted. The season would go on. Players, owners, and fans breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Part 14: The Lessons Learned

The 2026 CBA showdown was more than a negotiation—it was a turning point. It exposed the challenges of building a sustainable women’s sports league, the complexities of revenue sharing, and the importance of trust between labor and management. It reminded everyone that progress is rarely linear, and that the fight for equity and respect is ongoing.

For the players, the battle was about more than money. It was about recognition, dignity, and the chance to shape their own destinies. For the owners, it was about stewardship, vision, and the responsibility to grow the game. For fans, it was a test of loyalty and belief in the power of women’s basketball.

Part 15: The Road Ahead

With a new CBA in place, the WNBA turned its attention to the future. Expansion teams prepared to join the league, media partners reevaluated their deals, and players dreamed bigger than ever before. The league’s growth was no longer just a hope—it was a plan, backed by hard-won compromise and a renewed commitment to partnership.

The Bendo podcast signed off with a message to its listeners: “We called a spade a spade, and now we get to watch the game we love continue to grow.” The story wasn’t over—far from it. The next chapter would be written by the players, the owners, and the fans who refused to give up.

Conclusion

The WNBA’s $700 million question was never just about numbers. It was about the people who make the league possible, the dreams that drive them, and the challenges they face together. In the end, the league survived because it adapted—because it listened, compromised, and remembered what mattered most.

As the season tipped off, the league’s stars took the court, ready to prove that women’s basketball was worth every dollar, every fight, and every fan who believed. The future was uncertain, but the spirit of the game was stronger than ever.