In the world of sports marketing, there are decisions that are debatable, there are decisions that are risky, and then there are decisions that simply defy all logic. This week, USA Basketball managed to find a category all its own: the “unforgivable.”

The situation shouldn’t be complicated. You have a player, Caitlin Clark, who single-handedly drove WNBA viewership up by a staggering 400% during her rookie season. You have a player whose jersey sales eclipse those of every other female athlete combined. You have a cultural phenomenon who has turned casual observers into die-hard fans and empty arenas into sold-out rock concerts.

So, when USA Basketball released the promotional materials for their upcoming December training camp, one would assume her face would be front and center. She is, after all, the undeniable face of the sport’s explosion.

But she wasn’t there.

In a move that veteran journalist Christine Brennan described as a “total swing and a miss,” the promotional graphic featured Jackie Young, Kelsey Plum, and Kahleah Copper—fantastic players, undoubtedly—but conspicuously absent was the woman who has revolutionized the economics of women’s basketball. This isn’t just a graphic designer’s oversight; it is a symptom of a governing body that seems allergic to its own momentum.

The “Tumbleweeds” of Paris

To understand why this omission is so egregious, we have to look at the numbers that USA Basketball is apparently ignoring. The narrative this summer was that the Olympic team didn’t need Clark; they had the veterans, the chemistry, and the pedigree to win gold. And yes, they won gold. They always do.

But at what cost to the growth of the game?

Christine Brennan, who has covered every Olympics since 1984, painted a stark picture of the scene in Paris. While the U.S. women were marching toward another title, viewership for the games actually dropped compared to previous years. Even more damning was Brennan’s description of the press tribune at the gold medal game: “tumbleweeds.” Journalists were choosing to skip the games. The casual sports audience—the ones who drive advertising revenue and global attention—stayed away.

Contrast that with the frenzy of the WNBA season. Indiana Fever games averaged 1.2 million viewers. International media outlets, including British journalists at the Masters, were explicitly planning trips to cover Clark. The demand was insatiable. Yet, the organization tasked with growing the sport globally looked at that demand and decided, twice now, to turn the volume down.

The Dream Team Parallel

The most frustrating aspect of this saga is the missed historical opportunity. We have seen this movie before, and we know how it ends when you cast the right stars.

In 1992, the “Dream Team” didn’t just go to Barcelona to win; they went to conquer. By putting Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, and Larry Bird on the world stage, USA Basketball ignited a global explosion. Kids in Africa, Europe, and Asia didn’t just watch; they started playing. The NBA’s current international dominance—with players from 40 countries and billions in broadcast rights—traces its DNA directly back to that summer.

Caitlin Clark represents that same potential for the women’s game. She is the “Dream Team” effect in one person. A number 22 USA jersey wouldn’t just sell in Indianapolis; it would sell in markets where women’s basketball currently barely registers. That revenue could fund developmental programs for decades.

By leaving her off the Olympic roster, and now off a simple promotional graphic, USA Basketball isn’t just slighting a player; they are leaving billions of dollars of future growth on the table. They are prioritizing “the way we’ve always done it” over the lightning in a bottle they have been gifted.

A Pattern of Disrespect

This latest snub forces us to acknowledge a pattern that dates back years. As the video highlights, this isn’t new behavior. When Clark was 17, tearing up the youth circuit, USA Basketball had her coming off the bench. They evaluated the player who would go on to break a 54-year-old scoring record and decided she was a reserve.

It speaks to an evaluation system that is fundamentally broken, or at the very least, deeply out of touch with the modern game. They view Clark through the lens of traditional metrics—seniority, “paying your dues,” and fitting into a system—while missing the forest for the trees. The forest, in this case, is a global movement of fans who are begging to be let in, and a governing body that keeps locking the door.

The Cost of Lost Momentum

Momentum in sports is a fragile thing. The 2024 season was magical because of a perfect storm: a generational talent, a compelling narrative, and a media landscape hungry for something new. But casual fans are fickle. If you don’t give them the star that brought them to the dance, they will eventually stop dancing.

The WNBA’s new collective bargaining agreement, with its increased salaries and benefits, was built on the leverage of this new audience. Every player in the league is benefiting financially from the “Clark Effect.” For USA Basketball to jeopardize that momentum by failing to showcase their biggest asset is not just “tone-deaf,” as the critics say—it’s organizational malpractice.

As we approach the 2026 World Cup and the 2028 Olympics in Los Angeles, the stakes couldn’t be higher. These events should be the coronation of women’s basketball as a top-tier global sport. But that only happens if the decision-makers wake up and realize that you don’t grow a sport by hiding your biggest star. You put her on the poster. You put her on the court. And you let the world watch.

Until then, the “unforgivable” decisions continue, and the fans—the ones who actually buy the tickets and watch the games—are left shaking their heads in disbelief.