Humans need to care in order to feel alive; sport has a way to make us care to our core. What starts off as a couple of people on a pitch turns into a full expression of identity and community – and tension is key to its magnetism. Rivalries, emotional outbursts, controversial decisions, off-the-pitch rumours – it’s deeply and innately human. It’s what pulls us in and, crucially, keeps us invested.
For decades, men’s sport has not only embraced this chaos, it has built billion-dollar empires on it.
Take the 1971 ‘Match of the Century’ between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. It wasn’t just a fight, it was a collision of politics, race and generational identity that captivated a global audience and transformed boxing forever. In the NBA, the Magic Johnson versus Larry Bird rivalry didn’t just bring a ratings boost; it injected personality and entertainment that still power the league today. And El Clásico? It’s not just a football match – it’s a century-old clash of regions, ideologies, and identity that draws over 650 million viewers and recently earned Barcelona a record €13.8 million ($16m) in matchday revenue.
In men’s sport, drama isn’t just tolerated. It’s leveraged. Brands, broadcasters, and athletes unapologetically fuel it. The NFL has gone so far as to create an entire merch line for rivalry games.
Playing it safe
Despite soaring attendances, record viewership and growing fan engagement, women’s sports often feel sanitised by comparison. Brand campaigns prioritise empowerment over performance. Sponsorship messaging skews wholesome and community-focused, lacking the edge and variety seen in men’s sport marketing. Clubs centre family-friendly environments, often at the cost of broader appeal: some away ends have been scrapped to preserve a gentler crowd dynamic.
As a society we struggle to define female competition, falling back on cultural clichés that range from belittling (Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova’s rivalry being dubbed a ‘catfight’), to deeply harmful (‘the angry black woman’ trope that’s rolled out for similar behaviour to their white peers). Players across the board face a different standard, receiving more scrutiny when they play aggressively and called arrogant when they aren’t humble about their achievements. Women aren’t supposed to be violent, by any stretch. Women aren’t meant to be the best, because men already are.
Of course, positivity has its place. Stories of resilience and inspiration are part of what makes sport powerful. But when those are the only stories being told, they flatten the complexity – and the commercial potential – of women’s sport.
Rivalry drives business
Rivalry, for example, isn’t just entertaining. It drives competitiveness and business. Take the Women’s Super League (WSL), one of the fastest-growing leagues in sport. Its highest-attended games are routinely rivalry matches. “A bit of shithousery, a bit of fun – we need that in the women’s game,” Arsenal forward Chloe Kelly told Versus.
And when drama has broken through to the mainstream, women’s sport has only benefited. The obvious example is the Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese rivalry that followed from the NCAA to the WNBA. It electrified audiences, sparked social media debate and caused ticket prices to skyrocket, allowing the Fever and Sky to further professionalise and set a new standard for WNBA teams.
But crucially it’s also created a fan expectation – and enthusiasm – for controversy. Sophie Cunningham’s jersey sold out after she wrestled down a player who poked teammate Clark in the eye.
Matchups are undermarketed
Beneath the surface, there’s a wealth of fierce, compelling matchups that are siloed and under-marketed. The perennial tension between Team USA and Team Canada in ice hockey; the decades-long battle between South Africa and Nigeria’s football teams; even the league rivalry turned international rivalry between Emma Hayes and Casey Stoney. Want more? TikTokers such as Coach Jackie and Marissa Kumari are among the many content creators covering the storylines that mainstream sport coverage misses.
There’s also untapped cultural territory. Unlike men’s sport, women’s leagues are visibly and proudly queer, with fans following cross-continental lesbian love triangles like soap operas. With younger fans drawn more to player stories than team loyalty, embracing this culture isn’t a risk – it’s a clear opportunity.
Misjudging the audience
The drama is already there. The real question is: why isn’t it being stoked – or sold?
The reluctance may come down to an outdated perception of the women’s sports audience. While brands and rights-holders continue to focus on the family-first atmosphere and audience as a differentiator, the reality is the core women’s sports fanbase skews younger and more male. 80 per cent of UK sport fans are interested in at least one women’s sport, rising to 85 per cent among under-35s, according to a study by Sky Sports.
They’re also highly digital. The 18-34 demographic show strong engagement on platforms such as TikTok and Instagram, where niche drama and lore is enthusiastically dissected, memed and merched: from analysing the messiness of ex-girlfriend court showdowns to thirst trap fan edits of players on the pitch and off. It’s a deeply different tone from the refined mainstream punditry that hasn’t adapted from the men’s game to address this new audience.
Brands also tend to view women’s sport through a narrow, social-good lens. Surveys show that many sponsors get involved to showcase corporate social responsibility. But treating women’s sport only as a feel-good cause ignores the far more engaged audience and often misses the mark. A message of female empowerment falls flat if juxtaposed against WNBA players protesting for fair pay.
“ Rivalries, emotional outbursts, off-pitch rumours… it’s what pulls us in and keeps us invested”
Finding the right balance
There’s reasonable caution about leaning into negativity. As visibility increases, so does the risk of bad faith actors: there are an unacceptable number of players across leagues who have had to step back from social media due to a flood of racial abuse. While rising tensions are inevitable as sport grows, toxicity shouldn’t be.
But that’s exactly why now is the time for clubs and brands to step in – to shape the culture before harmful behaviours become entrenched. We need storytelling that captures players as full people, not just polished role models. A tone that embraces banter, rivalry and real emotion. Content that pulls in culture outside of sport and takes the sting out of online hate with humour, depth and authenticity. Think about brand and story building first, instead of immediately commercialising.
Look to Unrivaled League for a social blueprint: it centres passionate fan commentary, performance-focused hype and heated game highlights, without falling into any tropes or toxicity.
Crucially, it leans on entertainment without falling into gimmicks. The league is tapping into expressions of what fans already care about. It’s acknowledgement that women’s sport is culture, not just competition.
The reality is that athletes don’t need help being inspirational. From the growth in grassroots sport participation in the last several years, it’s clear female athletes are already the role models to motivate the next generation of girls. What they need next is the permission to thrive as their full selves: complex, emotional, competitive, messy. That’s what will sell in the long term.
Drama doesn’t degrade the product. It is the product. And until brands, leagues and broadcasters learn to market it as such, women’s sport will be on the back foot.
Bringing the drama to life
1. Promote the polymathlete
Athletes today are multifaceted, yet often flattened into one-dimensional tropes. Clubs and leagues need marketing that highlights their grit, talent and personality – on and off the field. Player-creators are key to this: they’re storytellers, not just athletes. Let them lead.
What if the WNBA tapped TP & Syd and StudBudz – player-creators from Indiana Fever and Minnesota Lynx – to find the league’s wildest fans ahead of major moments, such as a Lynx versus Liberty WNBA finals rematch? This chaotic YouTube series could showcase tailgate rituals, homemade merch, altars to star players, and conspiracy theories about refs – celebrating the intensity of women’s sports fandom, through the lens of social-savvy players who are already drawing new fans for their outsized personalities.
- Tap into cultural connections
Harnessing current trends in film, music and literature can unlock new audiences. Fans are drawn to the drama and emotion in all three, yet these overlaps remain untapped. For example, the NWSL could turn rivalries into music festivals – ‘Feud Fests’ – with artists like Doechii channelling female rage ahead of its inaugural Rivalry Weekend.
Similarly, there’s been a rise in the popularity of sport-themed romance novels which, in some cases, has turned readers into real life league fans. Women’s sport fans — football in particular — are already tracking the romantic storylines of their favourite players. What if the WSL backed a football-themed romance writing contest aimed at queer fans, tapping into the fascination with off-pitch relationships and love triangles? It merges sport with a cultural trend that already resonates.
- Reignite the game
Shake up the women’s rivalry game experience with a playbook that matches the passion fans already bring. Imagine hype trailers built from archival footage, turning decades-old grudges into cinematic showdowns. Stream the game with alternative commentary: podcast hosts or TikTok personalities from the cultural margins taking over halftime, timeouts and debate desks.
Let fan culture take centre stage, not sit on the sidelines. Build dedicated sections for ‘soft hooligans’– the DIY-banner-making, chant-starting, meme-posting superfans who inject joy and passion without the toxicity. Rivalry games aren’t just matches; they’re cultural moments. Let’s start treating them that way.
Karis Hustad is a journalist and senior strategist at PACER, a creative consultancy and agency primarily focused on women’s sports.
