Near the end of spring training, Clayton Kershaw brought a guest to a post-game interview. He beamed as he held his 1-year-old daughter. Cali Ann Kershaw wore a pink bow and pawed at the microphones pointed toward her father.
His wife, Ellen, was occupied that afternoon, so Kershaw merged his pitching schedule with his parenting schedule. He gave his daughter his iPhone to occupy her hands. She let out a small wail. His voice lowered to a coo to soothe her.
“Cali,” he said, “you have to let them talk.”
In his second year as a father, Kershaw has grown accustomed to lack of sleep and constant logistical puzzles. His heart no longer fills with...