We Never Have as Much Time as We Think

In Loving Memory of Erin IV

I don’t know how many reminders I need to emphasize that life is short. I’ve been losing young people I know and love for about two decades — mostly to violence, but sometimes to what many deem “natural.” I find it hard to call a parent burying their child natural.

This time, the reminder wasn’t just that life is short. It was a reminder to do the thing and to always be kind.

In June 2025, I put out a call-to-action asking for help. I needed others who wanted to move the needle on women’s basketball. I wasn’t expecting the response to be so plentiful. Hundreds of people answered.

The form was short and open-ended: “Tell us about who you are and what you do.” People took their time. They shared their work, their social media pages, and their passion.

One of those people was Erin Ivey.

Erin shared that she had been an athlete her entire life. Basketball came last, but she was most proficient in it. She played AAU, high school ball, and some college. Content creation was her next dream, and she wanted to be part of my team.

With hundreds of submissions, I had to move quickly. I began scanning social media pages and decided to base part of the criteria on self-sufficiency. If someone was brand new to content creation, they might need more guidance and I didn’t have the capacity to hold someone’s hand.

I followed up with Erin and thanked her for her time but that we are moving forward with other candidates. I told her that if she had additional samples or updated content that better reflected her skills and style, we’d be happy to review it. I wished her well on her creative journey.

Over a week passed, and I began interviewing candidates I planned to move forward with. Then I received another email from Erin.

Hello Coach C,

Firstly, thank you for your response to my inquiry. The time you took to do so is highly appreciated.

To be fully candid, I don’t exactly have samples of my work to send for review as this is a brand-new field for me. I’ve been in the hospitality industry for over 20 years, and I know that sometimes you just need that first opportunity. It can be a catch-22. You can’t get experience without experience.

I do, however, use my Threads to write snippets of my coverage of games.

I believe I bring a lot of qualities to the table. I’m an excellent writer. A former collegiate athlete. I have a massive amount of enthusiasm for the game. I’m an extremely hard worker, very coachable, and a strong leader.

I’m a huge fan of what you’re doing. Your channel is often my first (and sometimes only) stop for women’s basketball news. The sport is growing fast, and I would love to be part of that.'

Thank you so much for your time.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I remembered what it felt like to want a chance.

When I was a teenager, I called a Dollar Tree in Stone Mountain every single week. Every week I asked to speak to the manager and asked if there were openings. Eventually, she said, “I’m going to have you come in. My mama once told me: You have to want it more than someone wants to give it to you — and that’s what you’re showing me.”

That stayed with me.

This was my moment to be on the other side of that feeling.

It ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve made — not just for the brand and for women’s basketball, but for myself.

Erin was the hardest worker I added to the staff. She wrote four news articles. We collaborated on three videos, with her focus on the New York Liberty — her favorite team. She shared drafts, ideas, and progress as she learned new software. Her demeanor was soft. Her attitude was grateful. She often told me how much being part of the team meant to her.

I knew she was dealing with something.

When we checked in on video calls and I asked how she was doing, she’d say, “I’m doing, Coach,” or more honestly, “It’s been a rough week.” I never wanted to pry, but when I did ask her if she'd wanted to talk she always told me it's okay and that she appreciated me asking. I always told her I was here if she needed anything.

Eventually, her content slowed. Then it stopped. She said editing was taking a toll.

In October, she told me she had stage IV cancer. She had been dealing with it since earlier in the year, but it had ramped up in recent weeks. It’s ironic — she spelled her name Erin IV.

I didn’t know what to say. We were around the same age. She looked healthy. She had even told me she was playing in an adult basketball league rather recently.

Words felt minuscule.

She told me working with me was a great distraction, so I tried to keep things about basketball. Still, I hurt for her. I studied her social media, searching for clues I had missed. How didn’t I know?

On Threads, she mostly talked sports. I searched “cancer” and found just one post from September — frustrated with people telling her to “just do” certain things while going through it.

A few days later, the Aces won the championship and we laughed about it—her being a Liberty fan and all.

Then we had what I now know was our last creative session.

Women’s Basketball 365 had nine people on staff. I’ve learned that relationships are the most valuable thing we have. Even though we were separated by hundreds of miles, I wanted us to feel like a team. I emphasized monthly meetings.

Our first meeting went so well that we recorded the second and turned it into a YouTube podcast. I’m so thankful we did. It was late October, heading into the holidays, and I wanted to make it special. I bought everyone dinner. The video was a success, and the Hoops Tribe loved hearing everyone’s takes on the WNBA season.

On New Year’s Eve, Erin messaged me to say she was going into hospice.

I didn’t see it until late that night. I was rocked to my core just an hour or so before the New Year. I thought she was going to win this battle.

I cried for days.

I told her I’d check in. I wanted to. Every night I thought about texting her — and every night by the time I sat myself down from everything I'd dealt with that day, I felt it was too late. I’ll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow came, and the cycle continued.

I searched her Threads again and found another post from October. She wrote about trying experimental chemo. Her options were dwindling. She said she didn’t believe in chemo — in killing healthy parts of your body to get better.

My chest caved in. Her body was fighting this largely on its own.

On January 12th, Erin messaged me saying she wanted to mail me a Sabrina Ionescu Blueprint t-shirt. We had talked about it months ago. I asked her how she was and she said she was hanging in there and would send me the T-Shirt when she could.

Four days later, she died.

Four days after that, her mother contacted me.

That same night, I had been watching His & Hers. I kept thinking Tessa Thompson sounded so much like Erin. I finally said it out loud to my partner. When the episode ended, I checked my phone and saw the message.

Time doesn’t wait. We never have as much of it as we think.

I’ll always regret not doing and saying more. But I find peace in knowing that I accepted Erin into my life. I trusted her intentions. She trusted mine.

She’s an angel of mine now.

There will never be a time that I think or talk about women’s basketball without thinking of the passion and love Erin showed even in her darkest hours.

In loving memory of Erin IV.