“Just Barely Surviving” – WNBA Star’s OnlyFans Ultimatum to League
In a stark, unfiltered conversation that cuts to the heart of the WNBA’s most persistent crisis, free agent Sophie Cunningham just revealed the humiliating financial reality that pushes elite athletes to consider extreme options. Sitting down with Caleb Pressley for his “Sundae Conversation” series, the 29 year old sharpshooter, recently of the Indiana Fever, was asked the question that hangs over every WNBA contract negotiation: “Are you getting paid?” Her answer was a quiet gut punch wrapped in Midwestern resilience: “Oh, you know, just barely, but we’re still surviving.” What followed was a masterclass in the modern athlete’s dilemma a tense, revealing back-and-forth where the phrase “OnlyFans” was not a punchline, but a plausible business plan.
When Pressley suggested a “Plan B” if the league doesn’t come through, Cunningham corrected him with chilling clarity: “Not Plan B. Project B.” In that moment, she reframed the entire WNBA pay debate. It’s no longer about players asking for more; it’s about a business failing to adequately compensate its labor, forcing its stars to openly consider alternative, often stigmatized, revenue streams just to earn their true worth. This is the story of Sophie Cunningham’s public negotiation, a window into the anger, ingenuity, and sheer frustration of a generation of women athletes done with being told to be grateful for crumbs.
“Just Barely Surviving”: The Chasm Between Stardom and Salary
To understand the weight of Cunningham’s “just barely surviving” comment, you must first grasp the brutal math of WNBA economics. As a veteran with seven years of service, Cunningham’s maximum salary for the 2025 season was approximately $241,984. This is the top tier. Rookie scale contracts start below $70,000. Compare this to the NBA, where the veteran’s minimum is over $3 million and superstars earn $50 million annually. But the comparison isn’t just to men; it’s to the market value these women generate. Cunningham is a premier three-point threat, a fan favorite known for her toughness, and a key contributor to an Indiana Fever team that made the playoffs and features the league’s most marketable rookie in Caitlin Clark. Her brand and her skills have tangible value.
Yet, the league’s current salary structure, constrained by a collective bargaining agreement (CBA) that prioritizes the financial stability of team owners over player compensation, caps her earnings at a quarter of a million dollars. For a nine-month season of global travel, intense training, and physical risk, this forces impossible choices. “Surviving” means sharing apartments in season, flying economy while NBA charter jets pass by, and working second jobs in the offseason. It means that an injury could derail not just a career, but financial stability. Cunningham’s phrasing “just barely speaks to a profession living on a razor’s edge, where elite performance does not guarantee elite comfort, or even basic security. Her survival is a testament to her hustle, not the league’s reward for her talent.
Project B: The OnlyFans Gambit and Reclaiming Economic Power
The core of the interview’s viral moment came when Caleb Pressley, circling the pay issue, floated the idea of an alternative. “If the WNBA screws you, you’ll find a Plan B,” he said. Cunningham’s instant, sharp correction “Not Plan B. Project B” was a declaration of agency. “Plan B” implies a fallback, a secondary option. “Project B” is a parallel venture, a deliberate business initiative built out of necessity. When Pressley then directly asked if this “Project B” could involve OnlyFans, the popular subscription based content platform, Cunningham didn’t flinch. She acknowledged the platform’s power: “OnlyFans can be a platform in themselves,” before adding with a telling smirk, “Maybe Project B should support that platform.”
This isn’t idle speculation; it’s a strategic threat. Other athletes, like tennis star Nick Kyrgios and former WNBA center Liz Cambage, have leveraged OnlyFans to build seven-figure incomes by monetizing their bodies and personas directly to fans. For Cunningham, a mention of OnlyFans is a public calculation. She is telling the league and its owners: You are not my only source of income. My brand, my image, and my connection to fans have a market value you are not meeting. If you won’t pay me what I’m worth on the court, I will monetize my off-court appeal in a space you don’t control. It reframes the player from a supplicant to a competitor. She is highlighting the absurdity: the league benefits from the visibility and marketability of its players, yet prevents them from capturing that full value in their paychecks. “Project B” is a warning that the very athletes the WNBA depends on have lucrative exits if the league fails to evolve.
“You Need the League”: The Unbreakable, Exploitative Symbiosis
In a moment of striking honesty, Cunningham immediately contextualized the OnlyFans idea with the cold truth of sports economics. “No, I think you do need the leagues cause that’s what gives you the platform to have all these fans,” she explained. This is the brutal Catch-22 at the heart of professional women’s sports. The league provides the stage, the legitimacy, the national TV deals, and the collective fanbase that makes an individual star like Cunningham or Caitlin Clark visible. Without the WNBA, there is no platform for a “Project B” to succeed on a massive scale. However, the league then uses that dependency as leverage, offering salaries that are a fraction of the revenue and cultural impact the players generate.
Cunningham laid this paradox bare. The league needs her talent to sell tickets and attract viewers. She needs the league’s structure to amplify her brand. But the financial split is grotesquely imbalanced. Her comment about Saudi investment “No Saudi money involved… I don’t think Saudi Arabia are interested in paying women athletes millions of dollars” was a sharp, sarcastic dig at the easy money flooding men’s sports, highlighting the different financial planets they inhabit. She acknowledges the symbiosis but is demanding a renegotiation of the terms. Her message is clear: the platform you provide is invaluable, but it is built on our labor. Pay us accordingly, or watch as we become more adept at using the platform you built to fund our lives outside your control.
The Ripple Effect: Cunningham’s Stand in a Season of Revolt
Sophie Cunningham is not a lone voice; she is a soldier in a growing army. Her public musings about “Project B” land in the middle of the most intense pay discourse in WNBA history. Superstars like Breanna Stewart and A’ja Wilson have been vocal advocates. The incoming rookie class, led by Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese, has brought unprecedented media attention and a new generation of fans asking why these cultural icons are paid like mid-level corporate employees. League owners and Commissioner Cathy Engelbert have repeatedly pointed to the WNBA’s historical losses and the need for “sustainable growth,” a stance that often reads to players as, “Be grateful you have a job.”
Cunningham’s interview is a tactical escalation. It moves the conversation from abstract arguments about revenue shares to a visceral, personal stakes. She is not issuing a press release through the players’ union; she is on a comedy show, calmly telling the world she might start an OnlyFans because her basketball salary isn’t enough. This makes the issue tangible and human. It forces fans to picture a player they cheer for on the court being driven to alternative platforms to make ends meet. It puts immense public pressure on the Fever and other teams to value their veterans. For the league, it’s a PR nightmare—the image of a star contemplating adult content to supplement her income is the exact opposite of the family-friendly, empowering brand they try to cultivate.
The Future of the Fight: Project B or a Fair Deal?
Sophie Cunningham’s “Sundae Conversation” is more than an interview; it’s a manifesto for the modern WNBA player. It outlines the three paths forward in stark terms. Path 1: Acceptance. Continue to “just barely survive” under the current CBA, which runs through 2027, hoping incremental revenue increases trickle down. Cunningham has rejected this. Path 2: Project B. The entrepreneurial rebellion.
Players increasingly build their own brands, secure outside endorsements, and explore direct-to-fan monetization, diminishing their financial reliance on the league and potentially fracturing the centralized model. Path 3: Collective Action. Cunningham’s public stance is ammunition for the Women’s National Basketball Players Association (WNBPA). Her words underscore the urgency for the next CBA negotiation. It strengthens the union’s hand in demanding a larger share of league revenue, better marketing agreements, and ultimately, a true partnership where the players are treated as the primary asset they are.