I had grand plans to write about Skittles until my allegiances underwent an unexpected metamorphosis.

On Sunday, news broke that Kelsey Plum, a two-time WNBA champion and Olympic gold medalist, will bid farewell to the Las Vegas Aces. The 30-year-old guard is taking her talents to the Los Angeles Sparks. 

As a San Antonio Stars turned Las Vegas Aces fan and part-time supporter of Plum’s former offseason squad Fenerbahçe, I may have to migrate my fandom further west.

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My loyalty is no “little thing,” and neither is a blockbuster trade, but the foundation for my fealty is. 

After making NCAA women’s basketball history at Washington by scoring the most points in a single season and career, Plum was drafted first by the San Antonio Stars in the 2017 WNBA Draft. 

Almost two weeks later, the San Antonio Spurs welcomed her to Texas with a halftime T-shirt toss, and Plum launched bundles of swag into the nosebleeds. The Hail Mary-esque passes went viral. The next day, Plum earned a slot in Sports Center A.M.’s Top 10 montage.

I’d watched hundreds of morning medleys, but no blip was more resonant than Plum’s T-shirt toss. At an early age, I recognized that chucking unlikely projectiles was the most efficient method to expunge male chauvinism. Whether I was skipping broken shells off the shore of construction sites or displacing air potatoes that once speckled sidewalks, the act always carried a defiant charm.

Before the halftime hurl, I had been fed tired narratives discouraging interest in women’s basketball: women can’t dunk (they can), the balls are too small (you’re projecting), women are unmarketable (exceptionally false), the league is trying to turn you gay (too late) or simply, women are just awful athletes (they aren’t).

Plum’s cannon arm prompted a reconsideration of women’s sports’ value. From that day forward, I became a Plum lifer and women’s sports connoisseur.

Plum’s professional career had a bumpy start. During an underwhelming first three seasons, the Stars relocated to Vegas and Plum averaged less than 10 points per game. Her career hit a low when she tore her Achilles and missed the 2020 season. But as she rehabbed, I followed her UFC Performance Institute vlogs more closely than the Aces’ on-court happenings. Eventually, after endless practice, strength training, prank wars and tortilla slap challenges, I witnessed an All-Star Game MVP, Olympian and two-time WNBA Champion emerge from the process. 

Like any normal freshman, I spent my first weekend of college on a Greyhound bound for Vegas. The day trip to watch Plum play in person was questionable; I wandered and snoozed along casino floors before sneaking into Michelob ULTRA Arena with the event staff. Five hours later, I’d seen an overtime playoff epic featuring Sue Bird, Breanna Stewart, A’ja Wilson, Jackie Young, Chelsea Gray and, of course, Kelsey Plum. 

A couple of weeks later, I considered another trip to Vegas for the Aces’ championship parade and again the following fall to celebrate their back-to-back titles.

Now, I’m thinking about rooting myself right here, ridding myself of basketball-induced bus-rider aspirations for the duration of Plum’s contract extension with the Sparks.

I have been at a similar crossroads before. 

To my great fortune, I grew up a Patriots fan — that’s why I’m a winner — and quickly developed an extensive parasocial relationship with the man leading the mission: Tom Brady. I used to strut around in my two-sizes-too-small Brady jersey daily and twice on Sundays when I’d watch the dynasty unfold in the living room, seated nervously beside our family’s life-sized cardboard cutout of the quarterback. 

When Brady’s first free agency episode arose in 2020, I was not equipped to endure change. I performed slam poetry (plural) around town, begging Brady to remain in New England until he hung up his cleats, and when Ian Rapoport broke the news that the G.O.A.T had signed with “Tompa Bay,” I wept. 

Brady was invading my stomping grounds and I was not elated. I had the Brady Blues, he was a traitor, disloyal! It was too great a change, so instead of claiming my local franchise, I stuck with the massage parlor presider Robert Kraft and the Patriot Way.

This time, it’s different — I’m standing by Plum.

My appreciation for the city of Las Vegas is waning anyway. It has become an inevitable layover destination on each of my Spirit flights to and from Florida — one that I’m ready to purge from my future purview. 

This is a new beginning — the opening of homage history — for Plum, the Sparks and even myself. In addition to adding Plum, the Sparks have welcomed Lynne Roberts as head coach and, finally, a practice facility that isn’t nestled in a community college 14 miles away. Rickea Jackson and Cameron Brink, last year’s first-round picks, are gearing up for their sophomore seasons, and most importantly, Plum will reunite with her bestie Wildstyle partner, Dearica Hamby.

Crypto.com Arena is about to transform into an absolute Dawg house. Sure, it’s likely another rebuilding year, but the Sparks have ambition and a veteran in Plum to actualize their vision. So clear Figueroa, get your confetti ready and prep those party streamers, Plum Dawg is coming to town.