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They’re already whispering about Chloe Johnson the way Minnesotans used to whisper about Gophers hockey legends who walked out of Iron Range barns like they owned the world.
Only this isn’t the 1970s and Johnson isn’t some elitely-talented kid headed to a smoky college fieldhouse. She’s the top basketball guard in America, the No. 2 overall prospect in the Class of 2028, and she’s sitting on the edge of a financial rocket ship disguised as college basketball.
We’re not talking about cafeteria meal stipends and a winter coat anymore. We’re talking about cold, hard, market-tested money. The kind of money that would’ve made Lisa Bluder break out in hives if she knew her point guard was out-earning her in endorsements.
Johnson, a Duluth Marshall product who’s been torching everyone in her path, could walk into her freshman dorm room in two years and already have a million-dollar NIL portfolio on the nightstand.
Think that’s a stretch? Angel Reese did it at LSU, dancing her way through campaigns for shoe companies and fast-food chains while still finding time to play in Final Fours. Flau’jae Johnson, another LSU phenom, is clocking $1.5 million while also pursuing a rap career.
Paige Bueckers turned UConn’s machine into a Nike-fueled empire before NIL rules were even fully baked. And JuJu Watkins? She’s not even old enough to buy champagne and she’s leading the nation in NIL deals out in Los Angeles. That’s the air Johnson is stepping into.
Pick your program and the checks change color. LSU’s collective operates like an oil well — there’s always more. UConn is women’s basketball royalty, where every game feels like a brand activation. South Carolina has Dawn Staley, who could probably sell sand in the Sahara and will make sure her players cash in right beside her. USC offers Hollywood cachet, red carpets, and NIL contracts that look more like studio agreements.
Johnson could have her pick of this litter.
Conservatively, she’s a $850,000 rookie. Realistically, she’s brushing a million before her first March Madness appearance. And if she turns into the kind of must-see guard everyone expects — the Caitlin Clark of her generation — then by her junior year we’re talking about a Duluth kid pulling down $3 million annually in endorsements while still trying to find time to finish sociology homework. That’s where the women’s game is today.
Meanwhile, the WNBA — God bless it — is still handing rookies contracts worth less than what an orthodontist makes in Hibbing. Which is why stars like Reese and Bueckers milked college careers for every Instagram reel and shoe deal before jumping pro. Johnson's future agents already know the script: build the brand in college, stack the NIL millions, and only go pro when you’re ready to trade that million-dollar dorm room for a charter flight schedule.
The Duluth gym rat is about to test how far NIL can take someone from northern Minnesota. If she leans into the right program, she won’t just be the best guard in the country — she’ll be the most marketable, too.
And while folks around here might brag about the scholarship offers rolling in, the truth is Johnson’s story won’t be told in what school colors she wears. It’ll be told in commas and zeros.
