PHOENIX — Arike Ogunbowale had a league staff member carry her MVP trophy on Saturday. She could be excused for not wanting to lug it around herself: The Dallas Wings guard had just made the WNBA All-Star Game into her own record-setting, electric highlight reel, and the accompanying hardware had some heft to it. Ogunbowale’s crystal trophy weighed more than 20 pounds.
The size of a trophy for an exhibition game might reasonably seem unremarkable. But recent history made it notable here. The WNBA’s All-Star trophy ceremony was soundly mocked in 2022, when commissioner Cathy Engelbert gave a rinky-dink silver cup to MVP Kelsey Plum, a presentation that might have looked more at home in a youth rec league. (Plum’s teammates on the Las Vegas Aces jokingly re-enacted the moment with a juice box.)
The resulting frustration was not so much about the cup. It was about what it represented for players who felt they were constantly battling for respect. This played out in struggles over arena use, practice facilities and travel standards, but it wasn’t all big issues requiring big investments. It also manifested in little things. Like a comically small trophy.
But that dynamic has shifted dramatically over the last two years. If the All-Star MVP trophy isn’t an exact measure of the health of the WNBA, at the very least, it can be a useful marker. After making promising gains in 2023, the league is now at the midpoint of an unprecedented, potentially transformative season in ’24.
A historic rookie class has brought viewership records and significant attendance increases. The league offers a slew of statistics to demonstrate the growth. (WNBA League Pass subscriptions are up 360% year-over-year.) But one could grasp the change just by walking through All-Star festivities this weekend in Phoenix. Downtown was bedecked in advertising from WNBA partners. Media swarmed. It was easy to spot fans wearing jerseys not just of stars but of role players. (Only a few years ago, much of that merchandise was not even offered for sale, let alone popular enough to show up in critical mass.) And it felt like a given that Saturday’s game between Team USA and Team WNBA was a sellout.
“To be honest, I never thought that I would be playing in a league where it would look like this,” Seattle Storm forward Nneka Ogwumike said Friday. “It’s such a mark of where we are … It’s not just interest but investment.”
Ogwumike was seated in a packed room for All-Star media day. The set-up had professional lighting, sound and backdrops for each player—relatively modest touches, perhaps, but some that had not always been guaranteed here. Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese would soon occupy tables at opposite ends of the room, each surrounded by a throng of reporters several layers deep, reflecting their position as rookie twin engines of the league. Their presence has been game-changing. But for perspective on just how pronounced that change has been, there is perhaps no one more valuable than Ogwumike, whose 12-year WNBA career has included Rookie of the Year and MVP honors and who now serves as president of the Players’ Association.
The nine-time All-Star began with how she got here. Literally. Ogwumike said that her flight to Phoenix was her first time on a commercial airplane in two months: The introduction of a charter flight program this season has removed one of the oldest frustrations in the league. Teams had flown commercial to games since the WNBA was founded in 1997, dealing with all the attendant annoyances of layovers, delays and cramped seating. (The current CBA was the first to win players the ability to sit in economy plus rather than standard economy.) Any team owners who wanted to pay for charter flights on their own were told by the league they could not on the grounds it was a competitive advantage. But that finally came to an end with a surprise announcement of a charter program in May. (The league tapped Delta as a partner.) Ogwumike had spent years fielding complaints about travel headaches as a union leader and experiencing them herself as a player. The improved fortunes of the league meant that particular chapter of grievance was suddenly over.
There have been plenty of other tangible improvements for her this year, Ogwumike said. (A big one has been playing for one of the teams with a brand-new dedicated practice facility.) But there’s something more abstract, too.
It feels possible, for the first time, to imagine that a player’s job description eventually might not have to include fighting over basic working conditions and explaining the legitimacy of the league.
“It’s not something that we want to stop voicing ourselves,” Ogwumike said. “But we want it to be taken a little more seriously—a lot more seriously—in ways where we won’t have to continue to advocate for ourselves. But we’re in a very transformational and pivotal moment in women’s sports. I’m just really grateful to be active and experiencing it.”
That last sentiment was echoed by other veteran players. The weekend, they said, felt like a legitimate, professional event in a way it previously had not.
“It really feels like an all-star event,” said New York Liberty center Jonquel Jones, who was participating in her fifth All-Star Game. “It really feels like it encapsulates the moment and how big this moment is, not just for the players, but for the fans … It has a different feel. It’s way bigger than it was before.”
The weekend buzzed with discussion about the future of the league. Expansion is on the horizon for the first time in more than a decade. (A new franchise will launch in the Bay Area in 2025 with another in Toronto in ’26; Engelbert said the league should have more news to announce in the coming months and reiterated a past commitment to having 16 teams no later than ’28.) A new media rights deal is being negotiated. (Indeed, much of the conversation focused on whether the reported increase to a $2.2 billion deal over 11 years might actually be a lowball.) The major questions facing the league no longer feel centered on survival. They’re instead centered on drive. Will the league’s ambition prove big enough to take full advantage of the moment? The key questions here are existential in a different way.
Finally, the game itself delivered. The WNBA’s All-Star format in Olympic years is unusually intense for an exhibition: It pits the U.S. national team against a squad of remaining All-Stars. That makes it a crucial opportunity for Team USA to play together and before leaving for the Games. And it makes it a delightful chance for Team WNBA to prove they can hang with the Olympic squad. (There’s obvious motivation for players who were in the pool but were not named to the roster.) It creates All-Star rarities such as fouling (!) and defense (!!), and in this case, a coach bothering to use a challenge in the final minute of play. This is, essentially, an exhibition that still manages to feel like something real is at stake.
Led by Ogunbowale, Team WNBA bested Team USA, 117–109. The game provided the signature moment that many fans hoped for: Clark and Reese connected for a bucket in the fourth quarter. (Clark drove the offense with 10 assists; Reese was the best rebounder on the floor with 11 boards.) The league’s youth movement had its chance to shine. But so, too, did Ogunbawale and Jones and Ogwumike. They had an All-Star experience, finally, that looked befitting of their talent.
“I’m happy for the players that have been in this league for a really long time to have moments like these, and opportunities like these, because they deserve it,” Clark said. “It’s been a long time coming. But honestly, I feel like we’re just scratching the surface.”
This article was originally published on www.si.com as WNBA Pulls Off an All-Star Weekend Befitting of Its Rise.
