(This is the Tantrum, in which Dadwagon’s writers debate one issue over the course of a week. Normally, we try to answer a question, but this week, with the publication of “Are We Winning? Fathers and Sons in the New Golden Age of Baseball,” by Will Leitch, we’re doing something different. For previous Tantrums, click here.)

Six-time all-star, zero modeling skills.

Every time there is a child (boy or girl) born into my family, all the men make the same joke: “Look at him/her—next Jewish point guard for the New York Knicks!” Put aside the fact that the great majority of my clan stands well under six feet, that none of us has ever played a Division 1 sport let alone gone pro, and that Ernie Grunfeld was a shooting guard (and Bernie King carried his water)—kid is born, and it’s sign ’em up!

See where I’m going with this? I don’t know if it’s important or even necessary to “bond” (whatever that means) with your child over sports, but it certainly is fun … and expected. Does that mean it will happen? Probably in inverse proportion to how much I want it, unfortunately. So far, JP has shown no interest in watching sports, but he loves soccer, swinging (and missing) a wiffle ball bat, badminton (missing on that one, too); I fully expect he will come around on the couch potato aspect of sport.

I feel awfully conventional about all of this, but the fact remains: opiate of the masses, last refuge of the violent and stupid, whatever, I love sports. Always have and always will.

The rest of you may debate the niceties as you see fit.