The Aces were the feel-good story of last season and the feel-bad story of the offseason, and if WNBA fans are struggling with what to call them now, let’s start with a simple answer: a professional sports franchise. Like the Patriots. Or the Astros. Or ... here is the most apt comparison, for obvious reasons: the Raiders.
Mark Davis, who took over in 2021, also owns the NFL’s Raiders. He inherited the team from his father, Al, a man who didn’t just revel in the outlaw image—he created and marketed it. Al could be loyal to players but not to the league or a city, and if anybody questioned his priorities when he crossed a line, he answered with a slogan: “Just win, baby.”
Keep that in mind as you think about former Aces forward Dearica Hamby, who said the organization bullied and intimidated her last year after finding out she was pregnant. Remember Al as you wonder whether, as reported, the Aces circumvented the salary cap to put together last year’s WNBA champions.
Both allegations are serious and should be treated that way. (On draft night in April, WNBA commissioner Cathy Engelbert said she was hoping for a resolution to the investigation into the Aces’ conduct by the beginning of the season.) Criticism is warranted. But this is how pro sports work: Teams push right up against the line of what’s right and what’s legal, and sometimes they cross it. That is not a defense. It is reality.
We should not expect WNBA teams to be any different, but for the longest time, we have. When the league was created in the 1990s, it was not just a business selling athletic competition as entertainment. It was a welcome mat. The WNBA told the world that a women’s professional team sport could succeed in the U.S.; that openly gay athletes were welcome before they felt welcome elsewhere; and that little girls could dream of a stage even bigger (and more lucrative) than Knoxville or Storrs. Naturally, most WNBA fans did not just root for teams to win. They—and the media that covers it—rooted for the league to succeed.
The WNBA has succeeded. Now the best way to show respect for the people in it is to treat them as we treat other people in pro sports. Admire their gifts. Cheer when they win. Congratulate them when they cash in. Point out when they’re petulant or selfish. Heckle them when they cheat. Refuse to give them your money when they truly cross a line. View them as athletes, not idols.
If the Aces did indeed violate rules that govern the procuring of talent, they should be punished in proportion to the crime and then go back to trying to win as much as they can. And after adding Candace Parker to a core of A’ja Wilson, Kelsey Plum, Chelsea Gray and Jackie Young, the Aces are now co-championship favorites with the new-look Liberty.
It is O.K. to think Becky Hammon deserved the chance to be an NBA head coach, as she has aspired to be, and also wonder whether she was an integral part of a culture that did Hamby wrong. We don’t have to avoid talking about one so we can focus on the other, just as Hamby does not need to choose between her allegations and her championship ring. If the Aces are guilty, they have damaged their own reputation and other franchises’ chances. They have not damaged a cause.
If reporters and analysts truly want casual sports fans to take the league seriously, then the allegations against the Aces should stick to them all season. The WNBA deserves everything it has gotten—and that includes criticism.
