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That’s what I miss. Putting on my pajama pants and t-shirt, sinking into the couch after an endless brown day, and letting Gary Cohen set the raindrops-on-a-roof mood that is a baseball game in June. Or Doris Burke breaking down a defense with professional cheer or Hubie Brown exhorting us that “there’s plenty of time here now.” I’m a freelance writer and the father of a three-year-old girl. My life is a full court press in front of an audience of none. Sports take me out of my head. ADVERTISEMENT Relentless fandom is a young man’s game. I am in an on-and-off relationship with the Mets. I follow the New York Giants and the Philadelphia 76ers with interest bordering on...

When such a situation occurs, you inevitably start asking yourself the hard questions: Is it her? Is it me?  You also, inevitably, as I did, start thinking about your balls — and your sperm count, and how to increase sperm count, how to produce more sperm — a lot. Did I take too many taps to the nuts in college? I wondered. Did I heat up my boys too many times by resting my computer on my lap? Am I wearing the proper underwear? Our primary care physician suggested we hold off on any drastic measures for a full year before doing a deep dive on our own fertility. So I held off doing anything rash. But, I did want to...