b"Massimo's mom was a unique woman; she was very involved with several humanitarian causes. She was also quite well connected; through a series of several important assignments, she was given the job of finding a good candidate for a student foreign exchange program with a school in America. Oddly enough, the program wasn't even an American initiativeit was Swedish. Candidates from every corner of Europe, boys and girls, just like me, were invited to apply. Somehow, I became the right guy, in the right place, at the right time. Today, I can't help but wonder if things would have turned out the same way had I sunk that jump shot to help win the game on that fateful day. Or better yet, was that game loss the actual event in my story that defined my destinymy future in America? Was it something else that led my friend, Massimo, to invite me for lunch and to talk to his mom?Destiny, whether or not you believe in it, is a funny thing. I met Nanci by mistake. It was perchance that I would become a chef. How did destiny decide on those paths? Today, on this Monday morning, as I write my story, with the torrential rain pounding my roof, I can't help but ask myself, How did I get here?Truth be told, I have no clue. The mere act of holding this photo continues to conjure the same painful feelings that washed over me after that crucial loss. When I close my eyes, I can still see that darn leather basketball taunting me as it danced around the rim; it's like a looping instant replay of every single basket made by our rivals. I still feel shame from that abominable defeat. It's funny, I often say. Some of the best things in my life happened in the midst of some of my worst crises.Maybe this is where I got my optimism. After all, I am eternally hopeful.Or maybe I'm just a fool and no one's told me!Fool or not, I've made it my modus operandi, my personal directive, to put it all on the line, like that one jump shot I took so many decades ago. I could very well be making amends for it to this very day. On the other optimistic hand, I do enjoy the full-bodied rush of diving into the unknown with both feet. It's not a stretch to suggest that perhaps I've been taking that jump shot every day since I was that 17-year-old, secretly smug basketball player. Come to think of it, anytime I feel doubtful before any big undertakings, like making a new TV series or writing a cookbook, someone will always hear me yell, Someone quick, give me the ball! I got a shot right here! And every time I take that proverbial shotSWISHnothing but net. 27"