Some of you may not know that I cut my teeth as a sports writer back in college. I worked with some great folks, a couple of whom actually carved out fine careers in the business of covering professional athletics (Alan Shipnuck and Eric Branch were old colleagues of mine — we were stacked). But sports writing wasn’t for me. Ultimately, I was put off by the odd hours and the deadline pressures of sports journalism. So I decided to become a chef, instead. Nowadays, I don’t invest the emotion into sports as I once did, meaning that the highs aren’t as high, but lows aren’t as low, either. Today, I guess that was a good thing; I’m currently reeling from San Francisco’s Super Bowl loss tonight, but I would’ve taken it much more to heart when I was younger and more volatile. Still, the last two minutes of the game will haunt me for quite a little while. Here in the Bay Area, we have no choice but to turn our attention to the long and leisurely stroll which is Major League Baseball. The foundation of a dynasty has already been set at AT&T Park. Time to build it.