Stephen Curry, widely regarded as one of the greatest basketball players of all time, recently sparked a new conversation that goes far beyond three-point shooting or championship banners. In a candid interview, Curry addressed what he believes is a major flaw in the current NBA system: the inability of players to participate in team equity under the terms of the existing Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA). Despite the league’s massive financial growth and the rising valuations of NBA franchises, Curry argues that players—the very individuals responsible for driving much of this value—are still being shut out of the long-term financial upside.
At the heart of Curry’s argument is a critique of how value is distributed in the modern NBA. The league’s revenue has exploded over the past two decades, driven by global popularity, lucrative media rights deals, and merchandising. As a result, NBA franchise valuations have skyrocketed. Teams that were worth hundreds of millions two decades ago are now valued in the billions. For instance, the Golden State Warriors, Curry’s own team, were worth under \$400 million before his rise to superstardom; today, that figure has ballooned to nearly \$9 billion. Yet, despite their central role in generating this growth, players are restricted to receiving only salaries and bonuses, with no access to ownership or equity stakes in the teams they represent.
Curry acknowledged that NBA players are paid extraordinarily well by almost any standard. He himself is set to earn over \$60 million in a single season, and younger stars are signing record-breaking deals worth upwards of \$280 million. But his point is not about the sheer amount of money players make. Rather, it’s about the structure of that compensation. Players receive their money through salaries tied to annual performance, with a hard ceiling governed by the salary cap and luxury tax rules. Meanwhile, team owners benefit from appreciation in the long-term value of their franchises—wealth that grows regardless of whether the team wins or loses, and wealth that is not subject to caps, escrow, or redistribution.
Under the current CBA, the revenue split between players and owners is roughly 50-50 based on basketball-related income (BRI). But this revenue split only accounts for operational revenue and does not factor in the rising equity value of franchises. Curry’s view is that players, as the most visible and influential contributors to the league’s success, should be allowed to share in that equity. When a player like LeBron James or Stephen Curry joins a team, that team’s national profile increases, local and international fan engagement surges, merchandise sales grow, and media coverage intensifies. These all contribute to an increase in the franchise’s market value, yet players see no direct financial benefit from that growth beyond their guaranteed contracts.
Curry’s call to action is clear: the rules need to evolve to reflect the new realities of the league’s economics. He believes that players deserve to be treated not just as laborers but as partners. He’s not suggesting that every player should automatically receive equity, but that mechanisms should be created to allow for it under certain conditions—perhaps through tenure, impact, or performance. The inability of players to invest in or hold a stake in the franchises they help build, while owners enjoy limitless upside, is a structural imbalance that Curry believes should no longer be acceptable in a league that prides itself on progress and innovation.
This is not the first time the subject has come up, but Curry’s status as a respected veteran, multiple-time MVP, and global ambassador for the game gives his words particular weight. His statements have reignited discussions among fans, analysts, and union leaders alike. Some fans agree wholeheartedly with his stance, pointing out that if a player transforms the fortunes of a franchise, they should be entitled to a portion of the resulting value. Others express concern that allowing equity participation could lead to competitive imbalances, player favoritism, or complicated scenarios in which a player holds equity in one team but plays for another.
The potential complications are significant. From a legal and financial perspective, ownership and employment typically remain separate for reasons of governance, accountability, and liability. If a player were to hold equity in a team and then be traded, it could create conflicts of interest, questions around profit-sharing, and even legal entanglements. Similarly, allowing players to negotiate equity into contracts could create a disproportionate advantage for wealthier franchises that can afford to offer such deals, thereby further undermining competitive parity across the league.
There’s also the issue of how equity would be structured. Would it be awarded outright, or would players have to buy in? Would it be a fixed percentage or tied to performance? Would only superstar players qualify, or could role players also gain access? These are all complex questions that would require careful negotiation between the league, the players’ union, and team owners. The potential for abuse or imbalance is real, but Curry’s argument is not about bypassing those issues—it’s about starting the conversation.
Curry also connects this topic to a broader economic discussion happening across sports and industries: labor’s share of value versus capital’s share. In many sectors, employees generate enormous value for their companies but receive only a fraction of the resulting wealth, while investors and owners reap exponential returns. This same dynamic applies in professional sports, where players might be the product, but the capital appreciation benefits owners most. As athletes become more business-savvy and socially conscious, they are increasingly questioning this model. In this light, Curry’s comments are not just a personal plea, but part of a larger movement toward redefining value and ownership in elite sports.
Moreover, Curry’s own interest in team ownership after retirement underscores his understanding of the bigger picture. Like Michael Jordan, LeBron James, and others, Curry sees the importance of building generational wealth and having a seat at the table where long-term decisions are made. But he also questions why players should have to wait until their careers are over to become part of that conversation. If players have the means, the insight, and the desire to take on that responsibility, why not allow them to begin while they’re still active—especially if it means creating a more balanced and modernized sports economy?
There are some potential workarounds that have been floated in public forums. One idea is the creation of a players’ investment fund, managed independently, that could own small stakes in various franchises. This would allow for collective participation without giving individual players direct control over a single team. Another proposal is to allow for post-retirement equity awards, rewarding long-serving or franchise-defining players with ownership stakes once their playing days are over. While these options don’t fully address Curry’s point about active players being excluded, they represent potential middle ground that could open the door to more significant changes in the future.
Opponents of the idea often argue from a traditionalist standpoint, insisting that ownership should remain with businesspeople who manage teams as enterprises and assume financial risk. But Curry and others are challenging that outdated notion. The reality is that NBA franchises are now less like local sports clubs and more like global entertainment conglomerates. Players are no longer just athletes; they are brands, influencers, and businesspeople in their own right. As such, it may be time for the league to adapt to this evolving reality and create structures that reflect the new economic landscape.
Ultimately, the NBA has long prided itself on being forward-thinking. From embracing social issues to pioneering global outreach, it has often led the way among professional sports leagues. If it wants to continue that trend, it may have to reconsider how it defines partnership and equity. Curry’s comments have shone a spotlight on a structural gap in the system—one that could become a defining issue in future CBA negotiations.
In the end, what Curry is asking for is not a handout but a seat at the table. He’s asking that the players who generate billions in revenue and build the global brand of the NBA be given the chance to invest in and benefit from the long-term value they help create. It’s a bold proposition, one that would require significant changes to how the league is structured. But it’s also a conversation worth having—not just for the good of today’s stars, but for the future of the league itself. As basketball continues to evolve into a global business juggernaut, the economic model must evolve with it. And if Stephen Curry’s legacy includes helping to reshape that model, it will be one more way in which he changed the game forever.
