The WNBA Finals were supposed to be a celebration — the pinnacle of women’s basketball, showcasing the league’s brightest stars on its biggest stage. Instead, the opening game of this year’s championship series has become an unexpected embarrassment, and no one is more furious than A’Ja Wilson.

Despite record-breaking storylines and months of hype, large sections of the arena were shockingly empty as the Las Vegas Aces took the court — even though tickets were selling for as little as $6. For Wilson, the reigning MVP and face of the league, it was a gut punch that left her both angry and heartbroken.

“This is the Finals,” Wilson said after the game, visibly frustrated. “We work all year to get here, and it’s supposed to be the moment everyone shows up for — not just for us, but for the league. Seeing empty seats like that… it hurts.”

Wilson’s frustration quickly became the talk of the basketball world. Social media lit up with photos of empty rows and stunned reactions from fans and analysts alike. How could the WNBA’s most important games — featuring some of its most recognizable stars — still struggle to fill seats even at prices cheaper than a fast-food meal?

The problem, many argue, runs deeper than ticket prices. Despite unprecedented attention on women’s basketball this year — fueled by breakout stars like Caitlin Clark and a surge in media coverage — the WNBA is still grappling with issues that have long held it back: inconsistent marketing, limited national exposure, and venue choices that sometimes work against the league’s goals.

“It’s not about $6 tickets,” one analyst wrote on X. “It’s about the league failing to build consistent local fan engagement and treating the Finals like a regular-season game instead of a marquee event.”

Fans echoed that sentiment. Some complained about confusing scheduling and inadequate promotion of the Finals. Others pointed to lingering skepticism from casual fans who tuned in during the regular season but haven’t fully bought into the postseason product. A few suggested that playing games in smaller, more intimate arenas might create a better atmosphere than seeing scattered crowds in larger venues.

Whatever the reason, the optics were hard to ignore. For players like Wilson — who have spent their careers fighting for respect and recognition — the sight of empty seats in the biggest games of the year was a painful reminder of how far the league still has to go.

“We put our bodies on the line. We sacrifice everything for this,” Wilson said. “All we ask is for people to show up. Support us the way we support this game.”

The issue is particularly frustrating given the momentum women’s basketball has seen in 2025. College basketball shattered attendance and viewership records thanks to stars like Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese, while WNBA games drew larger crowds and more media attention than ever before. Expectations were sky-high heading into the Finals — and many assumed sellouts were a given.

Instead, the sight of discounted tickets and empty sections has sparked tough questions about the league’s growth strategy. Can the WNBA sustain its recent surge in popularity? Is it doing enough to convert casual fans into loyal supporters? And how can it ensure that moments like the Finals feel like the unmissable events they deserve to be?

Some insiders argue that the league is still in a transitional phase — growing faster than its infrastructure and marketing can keep up. Others warn that failing to capitalize on peak moments like the Finals could slow momentum just as women’s sports are breaking new ground globally.

For Wilson and her teammates, however, the focus remains on the court — even as they hope for more support off it. “We’re going to keep showing up,” Wilson said. “We’ll keep putting on a show. But this league needs everyone — fans, media, sponsors — to step up too. That’s how we grow.”

As the Finals continue, the pressure is now on the WNBA to respond. Will attendance improve in the next games? Will fans rally behind the league’s biggest stars when it matters most? Or will the image of $6 tickets and empty seats linger as a symbol of missed opportunity?

One thing is certain: A’Ja Wilson’s anger isn’t just about a disappointing crowd — it’s about a league still fighting to be seen and valued on the stage it deserves.