The Tuesday Club

Ask any new parent; no one is ever actually ready to become one, are they? Even with nine months to prepare, it's still a shock. Still mind-blowing that this tiny, little thing is now your sole responsibility. Except try coming home to find a baby on your doorstep, wearing a pink striped hat and attached to a note saying she belongs to you. Then you can say parenthood is a shock. Overnight my bachelor life ceased to exist; my heart now owned by one woman. My daughter.

Have you ever met someone who makes your blood boil simply by existing? Or turn your notorious, ice-cool demeanor volcanic in a nanosecond? Perhaps smother your usual air of indifference with a lightning-charged thundercloud, threatening to strike at any moment? Because that's what she does.

As any true sports fan will tell you, once you have an allegiance to a team it's set in stone. It's unwavering. It's finite. You never leave. Yet somehow, I've been asked to do just that. To set aside my love for The Yankees and take ownership of The New York Lions—the worst team in Major League Baseball. Oh, yes, and turn them into winners. An impossible job I don't want, from a gift I couldn't get a refund on.