Some days I try to think of posts where food relates to sports, and the sports relates to life. Such comparisons are always stretched too thinly. Loving sports and food is tough. Food just doesn't seem to relate to life. How do you analyze spaghetti to a cook's personality or to an eater's? Dining descriptions have a life their own, and seem to know its boundaries. When food stories evoke emotions it's often about quality time with family and friends. Perhaps it's learning to cook from a grandmother or spending one-on-one time with a parent at a ballpark. I'm generally critical of memoirs because if you live your current state in such vivid details that can be recalled later, then either your diaries could be worth fortunes, or the embellishments and adjectives are monetarily placed. When I look at authors of memoirs, it fills me...