From dream to dollars: can the Sky’s founding mission endure as the league climbs to new heights?
Tensions are mounting in women’s basketball. The WNBA players and team owners have been negotiating a new collective-bargaining agreement for more than a year, and the current stalemate threatens to push the season back. In Chicago, Sky owner Michael Alter is facing a lawsuit from a minority investor who claims his stake was unfairly diluted just as the franchise’s value soared.
These disputes signal a broader shift for the Sky and the league—the moment when millions of dollars are at stake and the stakes feel personal.
That’s a major shift.
For much of the Sky’s history, ownership involved absorbing losses in service of a social mission, not chasing big financial returns. As recently as 2023, the Sky struggled to raise capital at an $85 million valuation. Now, a new investor puts the franchise’s value closer to $350 million.
“It’s suddenly real money for people,” one investor told the Sun-Times.
So what happens when a tight-knit, belief-driven community team becomes a booming business?
The Sun-Times spoke with early investors, fans and players to explore how the Sky’s meaning is evolving.
What role should purpose-driven investors play now?
In 2006, Linda Friedman recognized the Sky would be different from an NBA or NFL franchise. Instead of one billionaire owner, it would be supported by a group of mission-driven owners.
Alter presented the idea in feminist terms, asking her to imagine young boys at games wearing jerseys with women’s names, and how that could shape their understanding of what women contribute to a team.
Friedman, a lawyer whose life’s work has been “fighting Wall Street on gender and race,” found the vision compelling. The mission was to create opportunities for players, coaches and fans who might otherwise miss out. Over more than two decades, she supported the cause by buying blocks of tickets to give away and providing pro bono work for the team’s charitable arm.
Meanwhile, Alter bore the losses. Friedman estimates he lent roughly $30 million to the team over the years to keep it afloat, and she feels that contribution has never been truly acknowledged.
The lawsuit against Alter stings for her.
“What hurts most about that suit is that instead of receiving thanks for sticking it out and helping the franchise reach real value, there’s just more criticism,” Friedman told the Sun-Times. “It’s not about truth. It’s about money.”
Friedman says she never expected a financial return from the Sky. The payoff, for her, was walking into a Sky game and seeing a different crowd—families and young fans who hadn’t experienced professional sports, rather than just the usual suburban faces.
Now she wonders whether that original mission can survive the league’s financial ascent, or if Wintrust Arena could eventually resemble other major venues.
“A portion of me would like to have my money back so I could invest in a similar cause because it’s so desperately needed,” she said. “I’ve loved being part of this, but ‘this’ has changed. The need for purpose-driven, mission-driven owners to support and build a league has changed. The billionaires want a piece of it—and that shift has happened in the last two years.”
What does the boom feel like to longtime fans?
When the Sky announced their inaugural season would be at the UIC Pavilion in 2006, Leslie Gatton was ecstatic. Her daughter was just starting to love basketball, and season tickets felt like a way to nurture that interest.
On Chicago’s South Side, opportunities for girls to play organized basketball were limited, often pushing families to travel north. Gatton recalls how vital the Sky was for girls to watch women play and have role models.
“Having the Sky mattered for girls to see themselves in the game,” Gatton told the Sun-Times.
The team later moved to Rosemont’s Allstate Arena from 2010 to 2017, and Gatton attended fewer games. When the Sky returned to the city at Wintrust Arena near McCormick Place, she renewed, securing some of the best seats in the house.
Her fandom mirrors the pride many women’s basketball fans feel. Gatton even recruited others, bringing her trainer, a father of young girls, who became a season-ticket holder the next season.
Despite loving the Bears and White Sox, Gatton calls the Sky “the best game in town” because of its team-centric energy. She’s excited by the league’s rising profile and the louder atmosphere at games.
During the 2025 season, the Sky sold out two games at the United Center and averaged close to 10,000 fans. Yet higher demand has driven ticket prices up: Gatton paid about $30 per game in the 2021 championship season; today, the same seats run about $145.
She worries about what higher prices mean for the crowd’s makeup. Part of what she cherishes about the Sky is that fans come in all shapes, sizes, ages and colors. She plans to renew as long as she can afford it.
“We don’t want them to disappear,” she said.
She also hopes rising prices translate into higher player salaries and better resources, so players feel more embedded in the city.
How has player power evolved?
Holding on to what you have has long been part of women’s basketball, especially in the early days when resources were slim.
In the Sky’s first season in 2006, the minimum salary was $30,000. The team trained at Moody Bible Institute, and the athletic trainer doubled as equipment manager and director of basketball operations.
Yet Chelsea Newton, then in her second season in the league, recalls feeling buoyed by success.
“You grow up in expansion mode and you just won a championship,” Newton told the Sun-Times. “You don’t care about the money.”
The league was still fragile and young. Three of the original eight teams folded in the mid-2000s, including the Houston Comets. Yet Newton counters that women’s basketball has always had waves of interest and support, even if the spotlight was inconsistent.
In the modern era, television exposure and social media have boosted player visibility. In 2021, the NCAA allowed players to profit from their name, image and likeness, leading to endorsements and broader recognition. Today, stars like Angel Reese—who has millions of followers—signal the sport’s growing market. The 2023 national title game drew nearly 10 million viewers.
Those developments validated Friedman and other early Sky investors’ belief in the league’s potential. WNBA franchise values surged in anticipation of further growth.
Players no longer simply gratefully accept a league; during CBA negotiations they’ve pushed for higher salaries, revenue sharing, and even the threat of a strike if needed.
“I love that the players stand up for themselves,” Newton said. “I love these conversations.”
Newton remains connected to many current WNBA players, including Sky’s 2021 Finals MVP Kahleah Copper, whom she coached at Rutgers. Now mentoring the NIL generation as an associate head coach at Texas A&M, her perspective blends the league’s fragile beginnings with today’s opportunities.
Her view: she wants a balanced outcome that secures both players’ needs and the league’s continued growth.
How should the WNBA address resource disparities?
When big money flows, uneven distribution often follows. Newton sees NIL-era disparities echoing in the college game: programs with deep pockets can attract top talent and resources, while others struggle to keep up.
The same dynamics exist in the WNBA. Some teams boast top-tier practice facilities, robust medical and performance staff; others still operate in smaller venues and share spaces.
That’s why players are pushing for minimum standards in the next CBA. On her podcast, Liberty star Breanna Stewart urged that every team have performance-support resources—chefs, massage therapists, and dedicated practice facilities. She even floated the idea that owners who can’t meet the standard should consider selling.
From a player’s viewpoint, it’s tempting to push out laggards and invite billionaire investors in. But the history of the league cautions a different approach.
As Newton’s Sacramento experience shows, an owner’s willingness to endure the slow periods matters as much as their willingness to invest during booms. The Monarchs folded in 2009 after attendance dropped, and the owner shifted focus to the NBA’s Sacramento Kings.
Even with the boom, long-term commitment matters.
The Sky appear solid on commitment: Alter and his partners remain the longest-tenured independent owners in the league.
Where they lag is in adapting to modern expectations. They’ve begun modernization with a new practice facility planned for Bedford Park, but they were the last team to split the coach and general manager roles, and in 2025, the team’s strength-and-conditioning coach still managed travel logistics.
Alter now faces decisions. In a league reshaped by money and new expectations, the Sky’s original mission may need to be reimagined.
