Love, Loyalty, and Liability: The WNBA’s Complicated Reckoning With Motherhood

Protect Ya Own: Hamby vs. the WNBA  

By: Mykell Mathieu 

Mother’s Day is approaching and I want to take the time to say Happy Mother’s  Day to all of the beautiful mothers out there.  

That’s one thing that makes the WNBA such a great and unique league because there are  mothers on nearly every team. They should be applauded, celebrated and loved – but in one instance, that love was lost.

The Los Angeles Sparks star forward Dearica Hamby is one of the team’s best and most  important players today.  

Hamby played eight seasons with the San Antonio Stars/Las Vegas Aces. During that time she was a two-time All-Star and Sixth Woman of the year award winner. In 2022, she was part of the Aces’ team that won its first WNBA championship. 

Hamy and the Aces formed a beautiful union. That is until the end of 2022. The Aces traded Hamby to the Los Angeles Sparks in January 2023 shortly after Hamby signed a two-year contract extension with the team. 

Then came a lawsuit which Hamby filed against the WNBA and the Aces.  

According to the lawsuit, Hamby’s pregnancy became a point of contention within the Aces  organization after the announcement became public. The lawsuit details how the team denied  Hamby clear answers about provisions in her contract extension, including her first child’s  private school tuition. Additionally, the team informed Hamby to vacate her team-provided  housing, which was initially part of her contract agreement. 

Hamby claimed that during a phone conversation in January 2023 that Aces’ head coach  Becky Hammon questioned her commitment to the team. Hammon falsely claimed Hamby  signed her contract extension while pregnant and suggested she wasn’t taking her off-season  workouts seriously. 

Hamby, who was seven months pregnant at the time, had continued to work out regularly as permitted by her physician. During another conversation, Hamby claims  she asked Hammon, “You’re trading me because I’m pregnant?” Hammon allegedly  responded, “What do you want me to do?”  

It was an ugly situation that didn’t look good for the league nor the Aces. 

It seemed as though the league who is all about togetherness and unity was not looking out for  their own. Hamby was someone who needed to be supported and protected at that time but  neither the league nor Aces did so. 

Being a WNBA player is extremely difficult and being a WNBA player and a mother is that  much more difficult.  

This situation between Hamby, the Aces and the WNBA is definitely not a good look for a  league looking to take huge steps forward. 

Luckily for a female athlete like Hamby there is the federal Pregnancy Discrimination Act of  1978 which is an amendment to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that prohibits employers from  discriminating against workers based on pregnancy or any related medical condition.

In reference to players of the WNBA, the 2020 CBA granted specific protections for parents in  the league. These things help protect players who become pregnant. It includes maintaining a  full salary during maternity leave and providing an annual childcare stipend. Pregnancy is now  placed amongst an injury. 

I’m hopeful this whole thing will be resolved with all parties satisfied but I am also hopeful that  the league can make sure a situation like this never happens again.

Stretch Marks and Stat Lines: The WNBA’s Reckoning With Motherhood

By: Eric Lambkins

In the fluorescent glare of a WNBA locker room, Dearica Hamby once cradled her newborn son, his breaths soft as the ball caressing the net.

Her body, a temple of rebounds and fast breaks, now bore the marks of a different battle: stretch marks etched like baseline boundaries, muscles stretched thin as a shot clock’s final seconds. Six weeks later, she was traded—not for points or performance, she alleges, but for the “sin” of motherhood.

Her lawsuit against the Las Vegas Aces is a referendum on a league lauded for empowerment yet tangled in a paradox: Can women’s basketball honor both the bodies that birth and dominate life?

Motherhood forces the body to call a timeout. Ligaments loosen like old shoelaces. Organs shift like defenders in a zone. Bones realign, a nine-month metamorphosis no training camp can mimic. Yet the WNBA’s calendar marches ruthlessly and unyieldingly.

The league’s collective bargaining agreement (CBA) now mandates paid maternity leave and childcare—a triumph on paper. But contracts can’t stretch minutes, soothe skeptical coaches, or silence the ticking clock of an athlete’s prime.

Hamby claims the Aces questioned her commitment post-pregnancy, framing her “condition” as a liability. Yet after giving birth, she returned fiercer—averaging double-doubles, her hunger undimmed. 

Still, for any team, a pregnancy is a high-stakes equation. A roster spot occupied by a recovering player is a gamble in the WNBA’s lean 12-team ecosystem.

But this is the same league that markets stars as mothers, daughters, and sisters—a PR embrace of “family” that rings hollow when pregnancy becomes a liability.

Hamby’s trade, abrupt as a halftime buzzer, exposes the hypocrisy: Celebrate motherhood, but don’t let it cost us games.

The Aces’ alleged accusation—that Hamby “deceived” them by getting

pregnant—reveals a darker undercurrent — A mindset that views wombs as a weakness and mothers as risks.

Yet Sylvia Fowles negotiated fertility treatments into her contract. Sue Bird turned maternity into a platform for advocacy. These legends didn’t diminish the game; they elevated it. Parenthood is a silent opponent. Sleepless nights stalk jump shots. Baby weight clings like a double team. Hormones hijack focus. For athletes whose livelihoods hinge on

machine-like precision, motherhood is a grenade in the gears.

Hamby’s suit alleges the Aces weaponized this reality, insinuating her pregnancy was a tactic. As if creating life could ever be strategic—as if joy and ambition can’t coexist.

The WNBA now faces a reckoning: Will it punish players for biology? Or rewrite the rules to honor the whole arc of a woman’s journey—stretch marks, sweat, and buzzer-beaters?

Sports are not a charity. The WNBA’s margins are slim, and its survival is precarious. Teams can’t afford sentiment in a league fighting for relevance. A pregnant star isn’t just absent—she’s a question mark.

Will she return as strong? Will she return at all?

Must profit eclipse progress? 

The Aces’ actions—trading a proven star over perceived uncertainty—reflect a cold calculus. Yet Hamby’s post-pregnancy performance mocks

the doubters: She averaged 17.3 points and 9.2 rebounds last season for Los Angeles.

The league’s path forward is a pick-your-poison playbook. Prioritize compassion and risk competitive imbalance. Or prioritize pragmatism and risk moral bankruptcy. There are no easy layups here.

The WNBA, born of defiance, now faces its defining pivot. Its legacy now teeters between two truths: To empower women, you must first honor their humanity. To survive, you must sometimes sacrifice it.

The whistle hasn’t blown. The clock’s still ticking. And somewhere, a mother laces up her sneakers, ready to prove them all wrong.

The Tragedy of Dearica Hamby’s Trade: When Fear Wins Over Trust

By: Jackie Rae

Bringing life into the world is a beautiful choice, and Dearica Hamby has proven she can balance motherhood, professionalism, and athletic excellence. However, her treatment by the Las Vegas Aces reveals the uncomfortable tension between personal life and professional sports. 

While I believe the Aces acted wrongly, the situation is more complex than it appears.

Dearica Hamby, a key contributor to the Aces’ championship success, alleged that after announcing her pregnancy, she faced inappropriate questioning from head coach Becky Hammon regarding whether her pregnancy was planned. 

Ultimately, Hamby was traded — a move widely criticized as retaliation against her for choosing to expand her family.

Let’s unpack Hammon’s questioning if Hamby’s pregnancy was planned. While this is a point of contention for most, this question is warranted. 

Let me explain. Hamby’s oldest daughter, Amaya Marie, was born in February 2017, while Hamby was married to Alonzo Nelson-Ododa.

As of today, there is no record of Hamby obtaining a legal separation or divorce from Nelson-Ododa. Yet, her son, Legend Maree Scandrick, was fathered by former NFL player Orlando Scandrick. 

Given the closeness of the Aces, it is almost impossible to believe that teammates and coach Hammon were utterly oblivious to the troubles in Hamby’s marriage. If that is true, it’s also impossible to think anyone on the team was oblivious to Hamby’s affections beyond her marriage. 

It is easy to listen without judgment when you are merely offering love and support. It becomes far more complicated when you are tasked with leading a team into a championship season, and you don’t know if one of your key players will be at full strength — physically or mentally.

Knowing the toll pregnancy and new motherhood can have on a woman’s body, are the Aces villains because they feared the unknown? Absolutely not.

Even though I believe the questions and feelings the Aces had were justified, I also think a deeper, more compassionate conversation could have led to an agreement that kept Dearica Hamby in Las Vegas — the city and team she deeply loves.

How could it not? Hamby’s dedication to the game, her teammates, and winning is not up for debate. The real tragedy is that the leadership of the Aces — a team led by women — failed to navigate a situation that demanded more empathy and understanding.

Women have long delayed motherhood in pursuit of their dreams. We know how much intention, sacrifice, and planning it takes for women to reach the pinnacle of success. If women have mastered balancing these choices within a marriage, they can surely do so outside of one. If that was the Ace’s expectation, it was a logical one. 

I’m not saying Hammon and the Aces’ are right. I’m saying I understand. Ultimately, they lost a player who embodied everything a winning culture should stand for. That is a loss that will have long-term consequences.