I get it—but still. They endured pain to bring life into the world. I’ll be suffering to prevent life. It’s a kind of death, a vasectomy, and not only for my swimmers. I have a buddy whose father—a surgeon—gave himself a vasectomy. Yanked down his pants, tied himself off with surgical hose, arranged a mirror, applied local anesthetic, and got to work. When I asked him about it later, he said he didn’t trust anybody else with his soul. I know what he meant.