Perhaps it was all worth it in the end. As a tearful Trinity Rodman signs the most lucrative contract in the history of women’s football – flanked by the Washington Spirit owner, Michele Kang, and a young fan called Emma in pink braids – the internet is already burning white hot. The podcasters will feast for days. After months of bungling US soccer finally has its money shot, and in more ways than one the numbers are going to be stratospheric.
But then Rodman has always been an effortless creator of content: a true footballer for the TikTok generation. From the spectacular strikes to the famous Trin Spin, from the vivid streaks in her hair to the viral goal celebrations, Rodman’s ability to convey the joy of the game in snackable morsels is the root of her appeal. Aged 23 she already has an Olympic gold medal and 49 international caps, to which she can now add a £1.5m-a-year deal and her very own rule.
The “Rodman Rule”, which the National Women’s Soccer League is desperate for you not to call it, was brought in late last year. It allows clubs to pay over the salary cap for star players that meet certain marketability criteria.
Perhaps this all seems very dry and distant to you, an arcane argument over financial instruments. In reality, the Rodman deal lies on so many of the faultlines that will define the future of sport: a tale of hubris and declining prestige, organic versus injected growth, the magnetic appeal of the individual against the institutional pull of the team, and what exactly constitutes success in an increasingly lawless financial landscape. But first, a little Europoors discourse.
Popularised over recent months by a certain obnoxious kind of online American bro, “Europoors” is basically an insult aimed at a continent: the idea that, while America is a land of high wages and unimaginable conveniences, Europe is essentially a backwater. A withered irrelevance where people still hang their washing on lines, the shops close for lunch and nobody can afford a World Cup ticket. In women’s football, by contrast, the roles are reversed. Here is a world of European abundance, fat contracts and cutting-edge facilities, while across the pond they desperately try to keep the roof from caving. We bought your Naomi Girma. We bought your Alyssa Thompson. We bought your Sam Coffey. Most of us don’t really know who Sam Coffey is, but we bought her anyway. Enjoy your cost controls, Ameripoors.
So when Rodman started making vague noises last year about joining the exodus, the air raid sirens began to wail. Already the USA head coach, Emma Hayes, can almost field a full XI of overseas-based players. For a country that once dominated the sport, and a league that could help itself to the best global talent, this felt like an existential crisis.
Everyone wanted Rodman to stay. Rodman wanted to stay. The problem was making it work. So in came the “Rodman Rule” over fierce resistance from the players’ association, who claimed it violated their collective bargaining agreement and would create a two-tier employment system. The association has filed two grievances against the league that remain unresolved. While Rodman will definitely get paid, nobody really knows how the “math” is going to work in the long run.
For all this, the general rejoicing at Rodman’s extension suggests many fans are largely unbothered by the fine print. Any note of caution will doubtless be written off as sour Euro-grapes. All the same, and with zero personal interest in whether Trinity Rodman plays for OL Lyonnes or Washington Spirit or West Ham, the NWSL is in the process of making a terrible mistake that could erode the very essence of what makes it good.
The first point is that players move to Europe for all kinds of reasons. Lifestyle, a new challenge, a change of scenery, the Champions League, friends and teammates. The chance to live in a country where masked militia do not shoot people dead in the street. And sometimes money. But at the very least we should push back on the idea that a decision this personal can be reduced to simple economics.
So star salaries will not stop the exodus. In any case, the NWSL is far from impoverished. The salary cap of £2.4m per team has already trebled since 2022 and will rise to £3.6m by 2030, plus a share of media revenue. The rosters are filling up with shiny new signings ahead of the 2026 season. The national team captain, Lindsey Heaps, is coming home from Lyon this summer. Forbes estimates that the 14 teams are worth a collective £1.4bn. This is still a viable and growing giant of a league.
But what it also enjoys is a culture. Healthy crowds that put every other league to shame. An organic, community-facing product. A strong union that puts a high premium on player welfare. Competitive balance (four different champions in the past five seasons) that delivers reliable shocks and fresh storylines. You lose Rodman? No problem. She can enjoy beating Levante 8-0 every week in front of 800 people.
Barcelona are 10 points clear in Liga F. Bayern are nine clear in the Bundesliga, OL Lyonnes 10 clear in the Première Ligue. In Spain last season, 12% of top-flight games were won by four or more goals. In England the rate was 14%, Germany 15%, France 23%. In the NWSL it was 2.2%: four games out of 182. None of this happened by accident. It happened through collective will and collective bargaining, a financial structure that allows everybody to grow together.
But what happens when, out of a well-meaning urge to keep a generational player, you tinker with the structure? “Any time there’s more money entering the player compensation pool is a step in the right direction,” says Haley Carter, the Spirit’s president of soccer operations. This is pure Euro-brain, the sort of mindset that generates an unsustainable inflationary spiral. Further and deeper cash injections. Ever more radical departures from the model. The inevitable end of the salary cap and an increasingly unequal league, built around a few untouchable stars and the few teams able to afford them.
Status anxiety has long been a catalyst of bad decisions. The fall from market dominance is rarely handled with grace. In a way this is the NWSL’s Suez Crisis, its Greenland, its Megalopolis, its Rudebox, its Paul Pogba for £100m: the short-term fix that creates a big long-term problem. Rodman’s new deal is being feted across the continent. But what feels like a show of strength often looks, in retrospect, like the ultimate sign of weakness.
