Jay Resha’s Westword Sports: Tradition, Like No One Other

May 1, 2026

Obviously, the title of this column is meant to mislead you – and not just YOU, but also the best lawyers that money can retain in Richmond County, Georgia. For you see, by merely changing a word or three, we are no longer ripping off a famous phrase associated with a famous springtime sporting event. It’s that easy, folks.
 
(With a little practice and by following my handy tips, anyone can be a master of writing, even if you don’t have a Masters degree. Just trust me!)
 
Anyway, that other legally-trademarked tradition was last month’s news. Today we are on to May. And in this town, baseballs and softballs are seen more often in May than in any other month. What’s more, this coming weekend brings us our own, ahem, tradition – Westwood’s annual Little League Parade.
 
Friends, I love this parade! As a kid I marched in it several times, and then another six-seven more during the coaching years – frequently as HC of the princess’s softball team, and occasionally as assistant coach for mini-me and his baseball troupe. Sometimes both!
 
The weather “usually” cooperated, and this is where memory is a friend; when I scroll back through pictures, I can see that we had a couple of crappy rainy days, but they were outnumbered by the sunny ones, and that’s what I remember best; kids in the grass, food and fun and fundraising, frozen treats…often followed by a smaller, second parade to Roche Brothers for even more frozen treats.
 
One year they were fixing up Morrison Field, and they changed the parade route to start at Town Hall – anyone remember that? What a cluster it was, shoehorning all those people into a much smaller space. My kids were little then, but I remember it so well. I wore a Tim Wakefield jersey, and I kept getting frustrated with children who wouldn’t stand still. I am much more patient with youngsters these days. Honestly, it really only took fourteen or fifteen years in total.
 
So yes, the first few parades featured some parental challenges, but they were memorable in a painful, difficult, but adorable way (coincidentally, that is exactly how I characterize parenthood in general!) The last few were a blast, especially when the princess was one of the older kids and helped sell raffle tickets and stuff like that. The coffee tastes best when it is unaccompanied by any herding duties, right?
 
When I became president of Westwood Youth Softball, I had the honor of making a short speech each year once the ceremony at the field began, part of the annual program that included my baseball counterpart; Westwood Select Board and Rec Department reps; and assorted other sponsors and VIP-type folks. Each of us made the type of rah-rah, sponsor-thanking speeches that are extremely boring for young people. So I tried to entertain a bit during the couple of minutes I was in possession of the microphone.
 
And thus, it was there that some of the worst jokes ever told in public saw the light of day. Here are two doozies from 2018 and 2019:
 
1: KNOCK KNOCK! “Who’s there?” REPEAT! “Repeat Who?” WHO! WHO! WHO! WHO! WHO! WHO! (keep saying WHO until it is obvious that everyone understands the joke, or your wife starts texting you to shut up.)
 
2: Did you hear about that softball player? Yeah, she was wondering why the softball kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger…AND THEN IT HIT HER! (very long pause here, under the assumption that, like the softball, the punch line is about to hit them.)
 
Some of my jokes were so bad, they could cause a global pandemic, and maybe they did: the next year, COVID shut spring sports down, mercifully sparing the masses from suffering that buffoonery masquerading as comedy a third time.
 
But I sure was proud of my time being involved. There were more players after my tenure than before, due to the efforts of so many great volunteers. Some of those kids who marched would later be found on Westwood High School teams. Some of those kids who marched would later help bring home league championship banners which now hang in the gym at Westwood High School. In softball, that 2024 flag is only the second in school history.
 
But anyway, then I went and blinked, and six more parades have gotten behind me as the Resha clan moved on from Little League. That princess comes home from her first year of college next week. The parades feel like yesterday, but they also feel like a thousand years ago.
 
Welp, that’s enough memory lane for today. On Saturday will I make the trek to Morrison Field? No. I will be 60 miles away celebrating a big birthday for one of my in-laws. No parades now. No coffee and chatter and parents and assistant coaches. No yelling at my players to keep in line and stop goofing off. No handshakes and hugs. No really bad jokes, at least not publicly. No kids playing in the grass, no attempting to keep little tigers out of the woods. No walks to Roche Brothers for frozen treats. No messy faces, stained shirts or an unhappy Gem when I forget the napkins. No, none of it now. That day has passed me by.
 
But the memories! Those memories – and this certified demand letter from Augusta National with which I have just been served – are like none other. FORE! Oops I mean, PLAY BALL!
 
Questions, comments, mistakes caught? Any and all feedback is welcomed! You can reach me at jayresha@comcast.net any time!