Sophie Cunningham’s Bold “Tres Leches” Alliance Exposes the WNBA’s Hidden Weakness Just Before the League’s Looming CBA Showdown

As the WNBA surges in popularity, buoyed by a new generation of stars and unprecedented media attention, a storm is quietly brewing beneath the surface. Tensions between players and league management are mounting as the current Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) inches closer to expiration. And right at the heart of this tension is a rising figure who’s never been one to back down—Sophie Cunningham. Her recent formation of the so-called “Tres Leches” alliance with teammates and off-court allies is more than a catchy nickname; it’s a bold signal of defiance that shines a light on one of the WNBA’s most persistent and largely unaddressed problems: division among players, power imbalances, and systemic underrepresentation.

While the CBA negotiations will eventually be fought at a conference table, the groundwork for those battles is being laid now—on social media, in interviews, and behind the scenes among cliques and coalitions. Sophie Cunningham, known for her no-nonsense play, unfiltered commentary, and rising popularity, is no longer just a basketball player—she’s a symbol of a brewing movement. Her “Tres Leches” crew isn’t just about friendship. It’s a challenge to the old order, and perhaps unintentionally, a mirror held up to the WNBA’s most fragile underbelly: fractured unity and overlooked voices.

Who is Sophie Cunningham—and Why Is She Suddenly Everywhere?

Cunningham, drafted by the Phoenix Mercury in 2019, has been steadily carving out her place in the league. Known for her physical style, trash-talking edge, and clutch performances, she embodies the grit and fire that fans either passionately love or love to hate.

But lately, she’s also been making headlines for reasons that go beyond the court. In interviews and podcasts, on Instagram stories and Twitter/X threads, Cunningham has been increasingly vocal—about salaries, power dynamics, favoritism, and even the subtle but dangerous double standards within the league.

Then came “Tres Leches.”

A seemingly lighthearted reference at first—an inside joke among friends, possibly even a nod to their shared Hispanic roots or taste in desserts—it soon grew legs. Fans began asking: What is Tres Leches? Who are the other members? What does it mean?

And most importantly: Why does it feel like more than a nickname?

The Rise of “Tres Leches” and What It Really Means

In the world of sports, cliques are nothing new. From LeBron’s “Banana Boat Crew” to NBA locker room alliances, the formation of mini-tribes is part of the culture. But in the WNBA, a league often touted as a beacon of unity and progressive values, “Tres Leches” feels different. It represents not only camaraderie but also counterculture.

The WNBA has historically prided itself on player solidarity—especially in times of crisis or change. Whether it was standing together after the police shooting of Jacob Blake in 2020, or collectively protesting against former Atlanta Dream owner Kelly Loeffler’s political rhetoric, players have largely moved as a unit. But this façade of unity may be cracking.

Cunningham’s alliance—and her increasingly bold rhetoric—highlights three emerging fractures in the WNBA that the upcoming CBA negotiations will not be able to ignore.

1. A Deepening Divide Between “Marketable” and “Marginalized” Players

Let’s face it: not all WNBA players are treated equally.

The league’s rapid growth, accelerated by the arrival of megastars like Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese, has thrown this into sharp relief. Players with high social media followings, corporate sponsorships, or college-built fan bases are receiving a disproportionate amount of attention—both from the media and the league itself.

Cunningham has been candid about the inequities this creates. “It’s not jealousy,” she clarified in one interview, “it’s about fairness.” For every player signing multi-million-dollar Nike deals, there are veterans scraping by on league minimums, working overseas in the off-season just to survive. “Tres Leches” seems to be a quiet rebellion against this trend—a way for players who aren’t necessarily media darlings to build their own influence.

And it’s working.

Fans are flocking to their posts. Comment sections are full of praise. Podcasts want interviews. In short, Cunningham is creating a platform outside the WNBA’s official marketing machine—one where she controls the narrative.

2. Race, Representation, and the Politics of Personality

One of the most uncomfortable truths about the WNBA is the ongoing tension between race, media representation, and player personality.

The league is predominantly Black, but the lion’s share of media attention has historically gone to white or lighter-skinned players. This dynamic has become more pronounced with the mainstream emergence of players like Caitlin Clark and Sabrina Ionescu.

Sophie Cunningham, while white, hasn’t hesitated to call out the inconsistencies—often aligning herself with outspoken Black teammates and advocating for shared power. “People think just because I look a certain way, I benefit from everything,” she once said on a livestream. “But I’m watching my teammates get overlooked too.”

“Tres Leches,” in this context, is a symbolic act of racial solidarity—not in the conventional activist sense, but in the shared frustrations over who gets visibility, who gets support, and who gets to lead. It’s a sisterhood that acknowledges systemic flaws—and isn’t afraid to talk about them.

3. Transparency and Trust in Leadership Are Collapsing

A key issue heading into the next CBA is player trust in league leadership.

In recent months, several players have taken veiled jabs at the WNBA Players Association (WNBPA), questioning whether it truly represents all voices equally. Cunningham, without directly attacking the WNBPA, has subtly hinted at dissatisfaction in recent interviews.

She’s also drawn attention to opaque financial decisions, including revenue splits, league marketing priorities, and how disciplinary actions are handled. For instance, Cunningham has been fined multiple times for on-court scuffles, while other players accused of similar behavior have escaped penalty—sometimes depending on their fame or sponsor affiliations.

Fans are noticing. So are agents. And as the CBA deadline approaches, the league is beginning to feel the pressure.

What This Means for the Upcoming CBA War

The next CBA is poised to be the most important in WNBA history.

For the first time, players hold real leverage—thanks to higher ratings, new TV deals, and the cultural moment basketball is enjoying. But with that leverage comes risk. If the league fractures internally, it could derail progress on crucial issues like:

Increasing player salaries and revenue sharing
Improving travel conditions and mental health resources
Enforcing consistent disciplinary standards
Guaranteeing maternity protections and long-term career support

And this is where “Tres Leches” becomes more than a nickname. It’s a test case for WNBA unity. Will players across teams and personality types come together under one collective vision? Or will micro-alliances like Sophie Cunningham’s signal a new era of cliquish fragmentation?

The league’s executives are certainly watching. And so are fans.

The Bigger Picture: Can the WNBA Grow Without Losing Its Soul?

For years, the WNBA was fighting for survival. Now, it’s fighting for identity.

As mainstream America tunes in—drawn by viral highlights, crossover stars, and ESPN hype—there’s a real danger that the league might morph into something more corporate, less community-driven. Players like Cunningham are raising red flags. They’re not just asking for more money. They’re asking: Who gets to shape the future of this league?

Is it agents and sponsors? Is it a handful of TikTok-famous rookies? Or is it the full spectrum of players, from veterans to role players, from small-market grinders to social media superstars?

The answer to that question will define not just the next CBA—but the very soul of the WNBA.

Conclusion: “Tres Leches” Is a Warning Shot

Sophie Cunningham didn’t start a revolution. But she may have given it a name.

As the “Tres Leches” alliance grows in visibility and confidence, it reveals not just cracks in the WNBA’s foundation—but opportunities for change. Real change. The kind that could empower more players to speak out, form alliances, and demand better.

Whether that change unifies the league—or divides it further—depends on what happens next.

But one thing is clear: Sophie Cunningham is no longer just a player. She’s a force. And the WNBA would be wise to pay attention.