Breaking Down the Average Women's Soccer Player Salary and Career Earnings

As I sat watching the viral video of Arejola chasing down an opposing player during that NBTC bench-clearing brawl, it struck me how differently we treat compensation discussions in women's soccer compared to men's sports. When male athletes get into these highly publicized incidents, the conversation often revolves around fines, suspensions, and how these events might affect their multimillion-dollar contracts. Yet when we talk about women's soccer players, we're still having basic conversations about whether they can make a living wage at all. Having followed women's soccer for over a decade, I've seen this disparity play out in real time, and it's frankly frustrating.

The numbers tell a sobering story. While Cristiano Ronaldo makes approximately $2 million per week at Al Nassr, the average National Women's Soccer League salary sits around $54,000 annually. That's not a typo - we're talking about what a top male player earns in less than a day versus what a professional female player earns in an entire year. Even more staggering? The minimum salary in the NWSL was just $22,000 in 2021, though it has since increased to about $36,000. I remember speaking with a player who told me she worked two additional jobs during the offseason just to make ends meet, a reality that would be unthinkable for most male professional athletes at that level.

What really gets me about these salary discussions is how they ignore the broader career earnings picture. A women's soccer player's financial journey typically spans 8-12 years, with total career earnings averaging between $432,000 to $648,000 at that $54,000 average salary. Compare that to the average NBA player, whose career earnings often exceed $25 million over a similar timeframe. The math becomes even more concerning when you consider that many women's soccer players need to fund their own training, equipment, and even travel expenses during the early stages of their careers. I've seen incredibly talented players leave the sport in their prime because the financial reality simply didn't add up.

The recent CBA agreements have moved things in the right direction, with the NWSL securing better minimum salaries and benefits, but we're still light-years from parity. The US Women's National Team's fight for equal pay captured headlines, but what often gets lost is how that victory impacts the broader ecosystem. Their collective bargaining agreement secured $240,000 per player for winning the World Cup, which sounds impressive until you realize the men's team would have earned $1.1 million each for the same achievement. Having attended both men's and women's World Cup matches, I can tell you the energy and quality on display were equally electric, making the compensation gap even more difficult to swallow.

When incidents like the Arejola brawl go viral, they generate massive engagement and visibility, yet this rarely translates to better compensation for the athletes involved in women's sports. The media frenzy surrounding such events creates temporary spikes in attention that don't necessarily convert into lasting financial improvements for the players. This creates what I call the "visibility paradox" - women's soccer players are expected to maintain impeccable professional conduct while working for salaries that often don't reflect their training, sacrifice, or the entertainment value they provide.

Looking at international comparisons reveals some interesting variations. In England's Women's Super League, average salaries have climbed to approximately $47,000, while in Spain's Liga F, the figures hover around $42,000. The real outliers are in Scandinavia, where the professional structure and government support create more sustainable conditions, even if the raw salary numbers don't always reflect it. I've always been impressed by how Swedish and Norwegian clubs develop talent while providing more comprehensive support systems, something I wish more leagues would emulate.

The conversation around career earnings becomes particularly poignant when you consider post-career transitions. Many former women's soccer players pivot to coaching or broadcasting, but the financial ramp-up in these second careers often starts from a much lower base than their male counterparts. I've known several retired players who took significant pay cuts when moving into coaching roles, whereas male former players often see their salaries increase in similar transitions. This compounds the lifetime earnings gap in ways that rarely enter public discourse.

What gives me hope are the recent valuation spikes in women's soccer franchises. NWSL expansion fees have skyrocketed from $2 million in 2015 to $53 million in 2023, indicating growing investor confidence. As someone who's watched this league from its shaky beginnings, this trajectory feels both astonishing and long overdue. These valuations should eventually trickle down to player compensation, though the pace of that trickle remains frustratingly slow. The challenge lies in ensuring that this financial growth actually reaches the players rather than getting stuck at the ownership level.

The media rights landscape is finally shifting too. The NWSL's new television deals with Amazon, CBS, Scripps, and ION represent a watershed moment, though the reported $60 million annual value still pales next to the $2.7 billion the English Premier League earns annually from international rights alone. Having negotiated media contracts in sports broadcasting earlier in my career, I can tell you that these deals create foundational stability that enables better player compensation over time. The real test will be whether teams use this revenue influx to directly improve player salaries and working conditions.

At the end of the day, the conversation about women's soccer salaries needs to move beyond sympathy and toward systemic solutions. The quality of play has never been higher, fan engagement is growing exponentially, and the business case for investment is clearer than ever. What's needed now is sustained pressure from fans, sponsors, and media to ensure the financial rewards match the entertainment value these incredible athletes provide. The next time we see a viral moment like the Arejola incident, I hope the conversation shifts from shock about the event itself to why we're not properly valuing these athletes in the first place.