It’s like you’re in the kitchens of your favorite sports stars. But not really. That would be weird.

It’s like you’re in the kitchens of your favorite sports stars. But not really. That would be weird.
It was 2006, the last of my junior-high years. Two of my homeroom classmates sat behind me, fresh off their morning “SportsCenter” viewing, going back and forth about Barry Bonds’ latest antics. I don’t remember what Bonds had done, exactly; he had plenty of antics back in those days. Whatever it was, none of the