Kids have a funny way of dictating your interests, and sometimes even making you compromise your own principles. In my case, a few months ago my son James started playing baseball—a sport I abandoned at age 7, precisely the moment I was asked to hit a ball that was moving.

I had actually been an accomplished tee ball player, even making a diving catch to win the city championship (okay, I didn’t dive and it wasn’t a championship).

So when James told me he wanted to play Rec baseball, my initial, selfish thought was, “I don’t want my summer to be eaten up watching you play a game I don’t really like, much less understand.”

But I did the good dad thing and encouraged him. Shortly thereafter we started playing catch, and I was struck by the satisfaction of throwing a baseball back and forth. There’s something so pure, so quintessentially American about the thud of the ball going into the glove—just standing there in sync, back and forth, back and forth.

These catch sessions evolved into 1-on-1 games up at the local diamond, which I actually started to enjoy. James is a numbers guy, so he enjoys tracking the pitch count, the baserunners, the score.

Before long, he was coming home from school and telling me who won the Tigers game and then reminding me of the TV schedule.

“Dad, they’re playing the Cardinals at 6:30. Let’s turn it on.”

I was intrigued.

I was talking to my friend TR, who was doing God’s work as a volunteer Little League coach in the Bronx, and he made a good point: when he was a kid there was one TV and the Tigers were on it, 162 times a year. That’s how he learned baseball.

He wasn’t in the basement watching Cocomelon or Bluey while his dad watched the Tigers. It was truly the only game in town, so he learned the ins and outs of the game by asking questions of his dad—because on some unconscious level he knew he would enjoy the game if he understood it.

So TR had inspired me to get access to the Tigers, but as with any viewing these days, it’s never simple. After a lot of digging, I found out they’re on the FanDuel Sports Network for $20 a month.

I have a complicated relationship with FanDuel. What was once a clear vice—and I do believe vices have their place—has become normalized because, well, if there’s money to be made to normalize something, let’s normalize it.

That said, I dabble in college football, NFL playoffs, and major championship golf. So yeah, I hate it, but it does make viewing more interesting. In fact, I’m up quite a bit in the last year, mostly thanks to Scottie Scheffler, who, as a devout Christian, I am certain does not approve of my gambling habit.

But with James’ recent interest in baseball, I saw an opportunity to escape a moral hazard: What if I took some of my earnings from FanDuel to fund their streaming service so James and I can watch the Tigers together?

Does that justify my modest gambling habit?
You don’t have to answer that.

So that’s what I did. I withdrew $80 from my FanDuel account, then turned right around and paid for four months of FanDuel Sports Network. James and I were watching the Tigers that night, talking strike zone, pitch count, and batting average like a 1950s father and son huddled around a transistor radio.

Next up we’ll be going to a game, and who knows where that will lead. Andrea says he’ll probably love baseball, and a year from now I’ll probably be eating my words about the Youth Sports Industrial Complex—or more likely eating a riblet and chicken finger basket between games at an Applebee’s in DeWitt, while my soccer parent friends laugh from afar (or more specifically from an Olive Garden in Perrysburg).

And here’s the kicker: I might actually love it. That is one of the wonders of parenting, as I said before. Your kids will change you in ways you could never imagine—and I would argue, mostly for the better.

Two sports I swore I would never spectate for my children: swimming and baseball. And now Sam’s a swimmer and James is a budding baseball player.

On the other hand, James may quit  baseball in a few weeks and those auto withdrawals to FanDuel Sports Network will start to sting.

But it will have been worth it, right? To have that small stretch of time when my kid started to love something—and made me to love it too.