At 63-years-old, my father’s become quite the oddity, and I mean that in a good way. I don’t know if it’s because he recently retired (in March, by the way) and no longer has to go through the daily grind the rest of us have to, or maybe it’s the thought of the New York Yankees being a $200 million ticking time bomb, whatever. Point is, he’s slowly getting away from his inner-Bob Knight, ‘hellfire and brimstone’ kinda personality and seems to be traveling toward a sentimental, Dick Vermeil kinda guy these days. He’s still on the highway to tearsville, resulting in the current odd dichotomy that is my dad.

Paul Sancya / Associated Press

LeBron James won my dad over with his unselfish play and ability to carry the Cavs to a victory through sheer force of will.

Case in point: he lauds boxing but doesn’t care for mixed martial arts fighting; he digs “The Sopranos” but didn’t get into “The Shield”; he loves “Pardon the Interruption” but changes the channel for every other sports debate show; he hates ‘chick flicks’ but actually sat and watched “Sweet Home Alabama” in its entirety; he loathes soccer but displayed a jingoistic-like rage when the U.S. choked in the 2006 World Cup. You get the point.

What’s this got to do with the headline? I’m getting to it.

On the eve of the beginning of the NBA Finals between the Cavs and Spurs, I can name two people who’ll follow this series with keen interest: Pops and I. But here’s the strange thing: my dad can’t stand the NBA in its current form; hates it, even. He’d rather watch the WNBA. I would know for a fact, I’ve seen him do it. Why? “Cause they play with the (freakin’) fundamentals!” he says.

If you were to sit in my father’s living room while he’s watching a regular season NBA game, he’ll likely utter one of the following five phrases:

“That’s (freakin’) traveling! He took four (freakin’) steps to the basket!”

“Block out! Block out! Why won’t they block out?”

“Everybody wants to (freakin’) dunk. Nobody wants to pass.”

“Can’t these guys just shut up and play the damn game? Quit whining!”

“Ahhh to hell with this, what’s on ESPN Classic?”

But don’t make the mistake of thinking he hates the NBA entirely. He’d extol the greatness of Pete Maravich, Bill Russell, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Elgin Baylor, etc. all day if you let him. He remembers a time when teams would routinely score 120 points each (in regulation, mind you) and play great defense in the same game. He longs for the days when a point guard would rather create shots for teammates rather than chuck the ball up in the air nearly 30 times a game.

But you better believe my father will be TiVo-ing the NBA Finals this time around. And it’s because of LeBron James. He passed ‘The Dad Test.’

How ‘The Dad Test’ works is highly subjective, and yet remains an effective means of measurement, regardless of the medium being judged.

When it comes to television or movies—especially movies—‘The Dad Test’ operates under a very simple premise: does it put my father to sleep? If he stays awake (and doesn’t ask questions), it’s a five-star quality picture. I’ve only known him to do this for a handful of movies: “The Godfather,” “A Few Good Men,” “The Fugitive,” “Shawshank Redemption,” and “Saving Private Ryan.” That’s it, that’s the list, as Tony Kornheiser would say. The sooner he falls asleep during a movie, the more he doesn’t like it.

(Note: For the record, he stayed awake for “Sweet Home Alabama,” but did ask one key question several times throughout: “What the hell am I watching?”)

Paul Sancya / Associated Press

No PhotoShop here, folks; LeBron's head really did rise above the rim on this dunk.

Sports are judged along roughly the same lines with ‘The Dad Test’. However, the real key in this instance depends upon how much talking he does – or should I say, how little.

Last Thursday, I walked into the living room and caught my dad watching Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals. It was late in the third quarter, score tied at 65 apiece. I plopped down on the couch. The old man looked over at me, remote in hand, and said, “Wanted to see what LeBron’s gonna do.”

I honestly don’t remember the last time my dad actively searched for an NBA game so he could watch a player. I know he’s stumbled across games in recent years and said things like, “Lemme check out Steve Nash. See how many assists he’s got,” or “Damn, that German guy can shoot.” But there he was, following a game just because LeBron James was in it.

With 3 minutes, 41 seconds left to play in the third quarter, LeBron’s stat line looked something like this: 18 points, 8 rebounds, 6 assists. Respectable numbers for most anyone in the league, but not for somebody like LeBron, whom, I figured, would probably need to hit a triple double and score close to 30 points for his team to have a shot at winning the game in Detroit.

Mid-way through the fourth quarter, LeBron takes the team on his back and launches into ‘The Run’ that would only later be understood: scoring 29 of the team’s final 30 points to win the game in double overtime.

As LeBron weaved his way through Detroit traffic to slam down a dunk, blowing by every Piston on the court at one point or another, my dad just sat in his cushy leather chair shaking his head in disbelief, as if to say, “How can (Detroit) allow this guy to get to the basket like that?”

When LeBron started chucking up jump shot after jump shot, we were glued to the television, waiting for ‘King James’ to miss a shot. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. And waiting. When LeBron made a behind-the-back pass to himself and drained yet another jumper, my dad looked over at me and said, “(Freakin’) guy’s not missing.” Marv Albert couldn’t have said it any better.

Then came the ill-advised three-pointer against Chris Webber, in which LeBron took off past C-Webb’s right side, and tossed up a three after stopping on a dime. Swish. From this point on, I ran over to my dad’s chair and slapped his hand with childish glee nearly every time LeBron made a shot. The two of us were, dare I say it, having fun while watching an NBA game. Go figure.

All because LeBron James passed ‘The Dad Test.’