The first major women’s basketball article I ever wrote was about Lauren Betts. She was a 17-year-old entering her senior year of high school, the No. 1 recruit in her class and thrilled to start what she thought would be a four-year-career at Stanford.
Now, after transferring to UCLA, enduring an intense battle with depression, finding the courage to speak up and winning a national title to top it all off, Lauren’s name was called fourth by the Washington Mystics in the 2026 WNBA Draft. It’s been an honor to watch Lauren, who I can honestly say is one of the kindest, most genuine people I’ve come across during my career. She’s been through incredible adversity and instead of hiding her pain, Lauren has used it not only to help others, but to help herself. She’s found who she is, on and off the court, and I have no doubt she will be incredibly successful in the WNBA.
Lauren and I after Grandview advanced to the State Championship during her senior year.
When I wrote that first feature on Lauren, I was a freelance journalist for Just Women’s Sports with a couple bylines and zero reputation in the industry. But Lauren was kind enough to give me the time of day. Not only did she agree to the interview, but she opened up to me, allowing me to write an article that boosted my confidence as a journalist. The story was the first snowflake in an avalanche of stories I’m proud of. It gave the Stanford Athletic Department enough trust in me for them to let me write an article about Cameron Brink – another kind soul who I deeply admire – who shared her own struggles with mental health. From there I wrote about Lauren several more times, including an article for Yahoo in which she first opened up about her time at Stanford and the depression that plagued her after transferring. Lauren’s trust in me has been a catalyst for almost every meaningful article I’ve written. Most recently, I chronicled Jennah Isai’s struggle with bulimia and decision to step away from basketball. She’d never spoken about it publicly, but had seen the work I’d done with Lauren and knew she çould trust me.
So WNBA draft was a full circle moment for me. I like to think I played a small part in Lauren’s journey, but she played a massive role in mine.
I dreamed of writing about sports from the time I was a little girl. Early in my career, after covering preps and men’s college hockey, I realized that women’s sports, and women’s basketball in particular, were my true loves. So, I took an editing job to help play the bills and started freelancing – which led to the article on Lauren.
When I got hired full time at Just Women’s Sports, I thought it was my dream job. I thought I’d build a long-term career there. Instead, after two years, the company decided to pivot from original reporting to more aggregate content. I was devastated. And I was also out of a job. Back to freelancing I went. I worked for Yahoo, SB Nation, the Boston Globe, Hoops HQ, The Athletic and anywhere else I could get a byline. I was certain a fulltime job would be eminent. Yet, here I am, three years later, still freelancing. I’ve been turned down for countless jobs, and while I love this industry, it doesn’t seem to love me back.
I’m writing all of this because, through Lauren and the many other incredible women I’ve written about through this job, I’ve learned the power of vulnerability. They’ve helped me open up to others about my own struggles with OCD, depression and anxiety. About never feeling good enough, smart enough or talented enough. I’ve loved writing for as long as I can remember, but for a long time I believed I simply didn’t deserve to be successful. Now, I believe that I do. But sometimes, it feels like the industry I love doesn't agree. I’ve been told that people no longer want long form articles, that in-depth player profiles or quirky stories about netball and undefeated Division III basketball teams simply won’t move the needle. In my heart, I don’t think that’s true, but if it is, so be it. I can’t change who I am, or what I’m good at. And I don’t want to. All that to say, I just don’t know if there is a place in women’s sports coverage for me.
I’m not writing this to whine or to fish for compliments, but simply as an act of vulnerability. Because life is hard. Jobs are hard. Knowing what to do and when to do it is hard. Deciding when to walk away and when to persevere are both – you guessed it – hard.
I don’t know what’s next for me. I don’t know if Lauren’s national title will be the last that I cover. I’m still learning to see value in who I am outside of the job I do. But I’m going to give myself grace while I figure all of it out. And I’m going to be vulnerable and honest while I do. That’s one of the many lessons I’ve learned during my time covering Lauren Betts.