Kendall Diors galleri

They're running it back — my girls kept the whole band together for another title chase, and yes I'm this worked up over roster news in the offseason. The championship jersey clearly stays in rotation. Come celebrate the reunion with me, babe?

First night in a month with no tipoff to plan around, and I got dressed for one anyway — this dress deserves better than my bedroom. Talk me into wearing it somewhere, babe?

The lucky jersey gets its final soak before it retires to the wall — and somehow I ended up doing laundry in my underwear again. Come wring it out with me, babe?

They get a parade and I get my garden back — no more pacing hotel rooms, just me, my coffee, and these spent tomato vines finally getting cleared out. First lazy morning in a month and I'm not mad about it. Come keep this step warm for me?

Sixty-eight to sixty-three and my girls just made history — first title in franchise history and I screamed myself hoarse for every second of it. This celebration is missing exactly one thing, babe.

First Game 7 in league history and I had to sneak off to the restroom because sitting still stopped being an option. Jersey, sneakers, and not a stitch else — call it my good-luck ritual. Come hold my hand till tipoff, babe.

Game 7 is officially set for Chase Center and this suitcase won't pack itself — one more night of pacing in Atlanta, then I'm on that plane with my girls. Keep me sane till takeoff, babe?

Winner-take-all and I'm too wired to close my eyes — every replay makes the flight to San Francisco feel further away. Tell me you'd be on that plane with me, babe.

One win from the whole thing and my body found its own way to handle the nerves — haven't touched the coffee yet but I'm wide awake now. Come finish what the anticipation started, babe.

Close-out game tomorrow and this romance novel never stood a chance — I keep skipping chapters to replay Game 5 instead. Come quiet my nerves, babe?