May 23rd, 2009

There's something romantic about the game of baseball. It is an American odyssey that links sons and daughters to father and grandfathers. And it reflects a host of age-old American tensions: between workers and owners, scandal and reform, the individual and the collective.

It is a haunted game, where each player is measured by the ghosts of those who have gone before. Most of all, it is about time and timelessness, speed and grace, failure and loss, imperishable hope, and coming home.

Maybe it's because the game is played in the summer. Maybe the season of new beginnings and growth rings eternal for both fan and players. Perhaps it's the beauty of failure. After all, the greatest to play the game fail seven out of ten times they are at the plate.

But I think it's something else. Hope.

Hope that the successes and failures of spring and summer will turn into a glorious triumph come the end of Autumn. Hope that the dog days of summer, when no one attends games and the heat is driving a player to the point of insanity, will bring victory when the weather cools and the stands are filled as the stakes of each game increase by the day.

Summer love and baseball. They're more intertwined than you would think. Hot. High stakes. Collective and individual in the same moment. They fill one with passion, delight, fear, and an unimaginable high that will leave the soul gazing down the road for its next fix.

Baseball. It's a game that teaches those that play quite a bit about life. That is why we love and respect the game.

This is a story of baseball and victory; love and loss; most of all, how two young adults find that a game can bring two people together in a way they never would have thought possible.

This is 19 You + Me.

CRACK

The sound of a wood bat making solid contact with a baseball was a satisfying sound to the ears of Alex Walker. Unfortunately for the young leftie, he was too far out in front of the changeup, sending it spiraling into the bullpen just beyond the foul pole lining the right field line. The young nineteen-year-old left fielder for the New York Yankees minor league farm system stepped out of the batter's box, taking a moment to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

Alex took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, noticing the eye black he wore beginning to run down his face in the hot Florida sun. Walker vaguely heard the announcer speaking over the loudspeaker, "Top of the ninth, the Tampa Yankees down by one, two outs, and Walker is now down to the Yankees final strike."

After a short moment of holding up his hand, asking for more time, Alex stepped back in the box. His front foot was pulled back slightly, his stance open, and he gently rocked back and forth from front foot to back, his bat gently waving above his left shoulder.

As Alex locked eyes with the pitcher, his mind was racing a million miles an hour. "Alright. 2-2 count. He's been on the rubber for a couple innings. Definitely gonna be tired. His heat isn't there. Gonna need to throw off speed. I just wrung up his changeup, so he's gonna mix it up. Curveball. Definitely gonna be a curveball."

After a moment that seemed to last for a short eternity, the pitcher wound up and delivered. As the pitch was released, Alex kicked up his leg in a massive leg kick, his knee nearly touching his elbow. His hands dropped from above his shoulder to a position even with his knee, his core and hips curling up into a tight coil. Sure enough, he was right about the pitch. He watched the ball drop down, tumbling over as it curled into the curve. He snapped forward, throwing his hands at the ball as it dropped from its apex.

CRACK

This time, there was no doubt about where the ball was going. Alex flipped the bat with style and began the trot around the bases as the home crowd collectively groaned. He heard the ball slam onto the metal roof of the clubhouse nearly four hundred feet beyond Homeplate and a disappointed announcer say, "And that is home run number 13 for Alex Walker in what has been a stunning season for the young nineteen-year-old at the plate."

Alex reached Homeplate and knocked fists with his teammates as he left the playing surface and stepped into the dugout, sliding his helmet off as he did so. A few girls cheered and waved, hoping for attention from the young man who had caught their eye. Alex paid them no mind, simply taking a seat and sliding his hat on as teammates came and congratulated him. Alex didn't care about groupies or college girls who wanted a little bit of excitement while home for the summer. He didn't care about girls or money. He was there because he wanted to play baseball.

Serena sat in the penthouse, staring out of her window at the city in front of her. The city that she had once loved. The city that she had once called home.

But now, as she looked out over the magnificent high rises that she had grown so used to, she felt nothing. No joy or happiness, anyways. Rather, she felt pain, sorrow, and anger. The high-rises that once moved her, leaving her in awe at the incredible human construction, now simply reminded her of how empty her existence had become. Shallow interactions with the Manhattan Elite were crushing her inside, bringing down the joy that she had once been defined by.

And above all, she was filled with anger. The Gossip Girl email blast during graduation had humiliated her and her friends. The vitriol with which the secret blogger struck left Serena feeling constant caginess, ready to pounce and jump on anyone who so much as breathed the wrong way around her.

She hated the anger and helplessness that she felt. Serena, always the Queen, always in control, felt utterly and completely useless, unable to discover the identity of Gossip Girl, unable to unearth her true identity, unable to understand why she felt such need to crush lives around Manhattan.

But through all that, there was one lasting, more personal feeling. She felt completely and utterly alone. Yet another failure with Dan to reignite their relationship, this one falling apart at the heels of an affair with a teacher that she had come to love and respect, left her feeling unwanted. Vulnerable. Raw. Not good enough for anyone.

The fighting with Blair had not helped. The constant tug of war between the two for control over Constance had done damage that she knew could be unrepairable. The only thing that could repair their relationship, she knew, was time and distance. Despite reconciliation before graduation, Serena was well aware of the icy current that still ran between them.

Serena sighed and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes and trying to block the pressing dark thoughts that threatened to close in around her. She leaned back in her chair and grabbed a remote, flipping on the television in hopes of distracting her brain. She mindlessly flipped through the channels, focusing more on finding something than finding something specific. After a few moments, she saw a beautiful beach and decided to settle in on a rerun of Baywatch. The trash tv was her welcome respite at that moment.

Alex stepped out of the shower, drying out his short brown hair as he did so. Normally slicked up with a little bit of gel, it now simply sat on his head as Alex prepared for the long bus ride back to Tampa, where the Yankee's High A affiliate Tampa Yankees called home. He stared at the mirror, looking at the reflection in front of him. His deep blue eyes were tired, his face covered with increasingly long brown stubble. His muscular body was tanned from time in the sun, which he made a point out of having in the mornings before he had to be at the ballpark. But it was now covered with cuts and bruises from hard slides, hits by pitches, and tough dives made in the field. Alex ran water on his face, washed more excess dirt off, and muttered, "I did not expect to be this tired already. It's too early in the season for this."

One of his teammates walked up and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey bud, manager wants to see you."

Alex chuckled and joked, "What, they DFA me already?"

"Nah, bro. No way they designate you for assignment! Ain't no way you're getting cut. You're batting .350 with 13 jacks, for crying out loud!"

Alex shrugged and said, "The numbers ain't bad, I'll give you that."

"You're definitely getting promoted, bro. Heard a spot opened up out in the Myrtle Beach outfield."

"Maybe. We'll see."

Alex slid a shirt on and walked over to the office a few feet away from his locker, knocking on the door of the manager's office as he did so. The manager was a heavyset man with a red face, along with a seemingly permanent dip in his mouth. He waved in the young man and indicated that he should take a seat. Alex did so, easing into the chair gingerly, careful not to sit on a growing lump on his hamstring that had come from getting drilled in the leg during the 5th inning earlier that day.

The manager spit in his cup and said, "Quite the shot you hit out there."

Alex nodded. "Thank you, sir. Figured he would throw a curveball. Wasn't that hard to sit back and wait on it."

"You know, you're hitting almost .360. You've been seeing the ball really well."

He nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"And we've all noticed. The front office has too. Today was your last day playing with the high A Yankees. They're sending you up to Myrtle Beach. The day after tomorrow, you'll be starting AA. I've got a card for you with Nancy Kerrigan's number. She's our travel agent. She's booked you a flight for tomorrow morning and has an apartment waiting on you up in South Carolina. Give her a call when you finish packing up your gear before you get on the bus. It's been a pleasure working with you, Walker. I'm looking forward to watching your career."

Alex nodded, stood up, and shook the man's hand, smiling as he turned away. Sure, he had to pack when he got home at midnight for a trip up to the Carolina's, but he had taken yet another step towards his dream of running out onto the field at Yankee Stadium.

Serena slipped out of the apartment, hoping to get some chicken parmesan and gelato as comfort food. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, however, she was ambushed by more paparazzi, taking pictures and yelling questions at her. She kept her head down, sliding her purse over her face as she rushed to the waiting limo. She slipped in and sat down at the edge of the car, leaning her head against the window as the tears began to slip down her cheeks. Her life was in tatters. Everything was falling apart around her.

She looked up at the driver and said, "Lucco's. Drive. NOW."

The driver nodded and said, "Yes, Ms. Van Der Woodsen. Right away."

The limo rolled forward and gently glided towards the restaurant, leaving the reporters and photographers behind. She stared out of the window at the passing skyscrapers and began to cry harder. The loneliness was soul crushing. The hate was infuriating to her spirit.

Change was coming.

It had too…

Alex finished packing up his gear, slapped fives with a few of his teammates, tossed his gear on the bus, and then stood outside as the rest of the team gathered their equipment together. He dialed the number on the card given to him and waited as it rang for a few minutes before a sprightly voice answered, "Hello! Is this Alex?"

Alex smiled at her energetic candor, despite the late hour, and replied, "Yes, ma'am, this is he."

"Excellent! Let's talk logistics really quickly. There's a team owned apartment complex about a quarter mile down the road from the stadium in Myrtle Beach, where we've set you up with a one-bedroom apartment. Fairly standard layout, a little on the smaller end, but good all the same. I was there today to check and make sure that everything is in order, but if there is anything amiss, please let me know!"

Alex nodded. "Yes, ma'am! Now, I have a question about travel."

"Of course! What can I do to help?"

"Is it too late to cancel the plane ticket? I have my truck down here and I would love to drive it up."

She hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, yes, there is still time, but it's nearly a ten-hour drive."

Alex shrugged. "I've had to drive boats on the Atlantic for longer. It's no big deal, really. I love my truck and I'd really like to take her with me, if it's all the same."

"Well, if you think that's what you want to do, I can make that work. You have a batting practice session scheduled for 6 tomorrow evening. Can you make it by then?"

Alex nodded. "With ease. Thank you so much, ma'am!"

"Absolutely! I'll leave the key under the mat. Call me if you have any questions."

The two disconnected and Alex walked back onto the bus, sliding his hat down across his eyes as he sat down and preparing to get a few hours of shut eye before arriving back in Tampa.

Lily and Rufus were enjoying a romantic evening at Lucco's, enjoying a shared meal, fine chocolate desert, and gazes across the table for two that reminded all around that the two were lovers. In the midst of flirtatious looks and enticing comments, Lily glanced a fury of blonde hair quickly moving towards the table. Seeing her daughter, Lily managed to hide her grin and wait for her daughter, who clearly was burdened. Rufus, sensing the two needed a moment, stood up, pulled his chair back for Serena, gently squeezed her shoulder in comfort, and left for the bar to get a drink and wait for the two women to resolve whatever had come up.

Lily squeezed her daughters' hand and compassionately asked, "Serena, darling, what's wrong…"

Serena wiped her eyes and replied, "Mom…I need to leave."

Lily nodded and said little, simply replying, "Why do you think that?"

Serena shook her head. "I need…to step away. Quit becoming something I'm not."

Lily, confused, asked, "What is it that you think you are that you aren't?"

Serena began to cry and replied, "A mean girl. Cruel. Hurtful. All of those things…they're much worse than being irrelevant."

Lily nodded. "So, this is about what Gossip Girl said."

Serena sighed. "It is and it isn't."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ever since Gossip Girl said what she said, I've been thinking about how to bring her down. How to eliminate her. It's not fair what she's doing. But, despite all of that, I realized that Gossip Girl, as terrible as she was, was just telling the truth. All of the things that she said as I stepped up to take back Constance were true. I became a girl that I promised myself I wouldn't be. I need to get back to who I was before I went on this power binge. And I can't do that here."

Lily nodded. "Okay…well, darling, you know that you always have my permission to leave for Europe whenever you wish. I trust you."

Serena shook her head. "I can't travel around everywhere and live an exotic life. I need to settle. I need to take stock of myself, settle some roots, force myself to make some changes."

Lily simply nodded, thinking that her daughter had a plan. "Alright, then. So…what are you thinking?"

"The beach house in South Carolina. That's where I want to go."

Lily leaned back in her seat and stared at her daughter for a moment. It certainly wasn't what she expected to be asked, but Lily still trusted her daughter. She stared at the stress lines on Serena's face, the running mascara, the tired eyes. She knew that Serena needed to get away and trusted that her daughter was ready to tell her mother what she needed. Lily took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. You have my permission."

Serena slipped past the edge of the table and wrapped her mother in a tight embrace, something that was a bit of a rarity for the two in public. Lily simply smiled and pulled her daughter closer, whispering in her ear, "Serena, no matter what Gossip Girl says, know that I am proud of you."

Serena smiled into her mother's shoulder and squeezed her closer. "Thank you, Mom."

Alex arrived back at his apartment in Tampa just a shade after midnight. He quickly walked to his room, threw his dirty clothes in his laundry basket, and then dragged it to the front door, deciding that he would do it the next day at his new place. He dragged his hang-up clothes out the closet, threw them in a hang-up bag, and then hung it near the door. Finally, he grabbed the rest of his clothes out of the small dresser and threw them in an oversized duffel bag, stacking it to the brim before tossing it near the door alongside his equipment bag from the facility with all of his baseball gear inside. He checked his watch, satisfied that he had gotten everything done in under ten minutes, and then settled in bed, closing his eyes and willing sleep to come, knowing that he had an early morning soon arriving.

No sooner had he closed his eyes than was he waking up to a loud alarm. He groaned, slapped his clock, and then slid out of bed, sliding in the shower as he did so. Fifteen minutes later, it was 5:15, he was showered, dressed in shorts and sandals, and his belongings had been tossed in the back of an old 1995 Toyota Tacoma. He took one last look around the apartment, checked for all belongings that missed his first sweep, and upon satisfactory completion, closed and locked the door for the final time. He slid in the truck, turned it on, and within ten minutes was on the interstate, already with a map open, route plotted, and looking for a place to stop for coffee and a sandwich as early morning sports radio began to recap the previous night's major league games. Alex smiled as he took a sip of water and drove through the early morning darkness. "THIS is summer."

Serena stood in her room, packing as Blair sat on the bed and talked with her. "Serena, are you sure this is what you want?"

Serena threw a couple pairs of shoes into one of her bags and replied, "It's not about what I want, Blair. It's about what I need."

Blair slipped up off the bed and gently grabbed Serena's forearms, stopping her from the rush of packing. She asked her best friend, "Serena…is this about us?"

Serena nodded. "It is. And it isn't. There's a lot that I need to change in my life, Blair. If I don't get away from New York and from this lifestyle…I won't be the person I need to be when college starts. I need this. It isn't your fault."

Blair shook her head. "I shouldn't have pushed you like I did. You went down this path because I pushed you towards it."

Serena gave her a soft smile and said, "Thank you, Blair. But I did what I did because I wanted it. I wanted the power. I wanted the control. That's something that I need to look at about myself going forward. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing."

Blair was quiet for a moment before innocently asking, "Have you talked to Dan?"

Serena shook her head. "After what he said…I don't see any reason to."

Blair nodded and pulled her friend into a tight hug. She whispered, "I love you, S. Don't be a stranger."

Serena smiled and squeezed her back. "I love you too, B."

Alex arrived in Myrtle Beach in just under eight and a half hours, arriving at 2:00 in the afternoon. He parked his truck in front of his first-floor apartment, grabbed his belongings, and walked towards the door, unlocking it and stepping inside. It was fairly simple. Beachy white tile floors and white walls with white cabinetry and appliances in the kitchen. The kitchen and living room were one space, with a light tan couch and two matching arm chairs positioned around a small coffee table and facing a tv. The kitchen was also small and simple, normal appliances and a small breakfast table notwithstanding. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed, a bedside table, and a dresser in front of the bed with a small tv placed on top. The bedroom was simple, the closet and bathroom small, and Alex was perfectly satisfied with all of it. It was certainly a bit more updated than his previous apartment, which he appreciated. He set his gear down, quickly took to organizing his closet and dresser, and then proceeded to kick back on his couch, putting his feet up on the table and turning on MLB TV to catch the Yankees-Phillies game.

Serena arrived at the Van Der Woodsen beach house in Myrtle Beach as the sun was slowly beginning to crest down from its midday high. The house was magnificent. Eight bedrooms, ten bathrooms, a massive pool, gorgeous deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and ornate decorations appeared in front of her as she left the limo. The white and light tan mixed well, with gold and silver mixed about throughout the house. She walked through the gate into the courtyard, where lavish fountains accented bright green grass as she walked down the stone path towards the house. She opened the massive front door and slid off her sunglasses, walking towards the living room and taking a seat on a large white couch. She took a deep breath, looked out at the waves cresting onto the beach, and nodded. "New beginnings. I can do this…"

Alex arrived at the Bayshark's field at 5:30. Golden Park was an old field, built in the early 1900's, seating roughly 6000 spectators. The stands went around from roughly first base to third base, with a few older luxury boxes placed up on the second level behind home plate. The dugouts were dug into the ground, the grass was a gorgeous green, and the clay was a tan brown. Advertisements were hung across a massive green wall in left field, while the brick façade that surrounded the field was marked by little other than feet markers. The field was perfectly symmetrical, with the corners 330 feet from home plate and center field 415 feet from the plate. Off behind the right field wall was the clubhouse, batting cages, and a small private parking lot with a few cars scattered here and there on the rare off day. Alex parked, slipped out of his truck, grabbed his gear from the truck bed, and walked inside, opening a door to find a small clubhouse. It was fairly standard, with a kitchen and training room scattered off to a hallway on one side of the locker room, while showers and the restrooms were off on the hallway at the other side of the locker room. The north and south ends of the locker room were entrances, with one being the entrance from the parking lot and the other to the back end of the field and the batting cages.

Alex walked around the clubhouse, trying to find his locker. After a few moments of anxious searching, he found his locker. "Alex Walker; #7; Outfielder."

He set his bag down and stared at the locker in front of him. There were multiple jerseys, practice jerseys, shirts, batting cage jackets, hoodies, pants, and sweatpants hanging up. His new batting helmet was on top, but the rest of the locker was empty. Alex bent down and began to put up his equipment. Several pairs of cleats, a pair of tennis shoes, and a couple pairs of turfs trainers for the batting cages were put in the shoes compartments along the sides. He opened one of the compartments and threw in compression sleeves, wraps, wristbands, and a number of other accessories. He put on shorts, a tight sleeveless shirt, a team cage jacket, and his new teams' hat. He slid his gloves in the top of the locker, grabbed his bats and helmet, and walked over to the equipment rack near the door, dropping his equipment in the designated slots for him. He took his preferred bat, walked out to the cages behind right center field, and began taking batting practice on the machine, warming up his arms and shoulder.

As he warmed up, two men walked up behind him and leaned on the cage net, watching his swing. The first, an older man with a worn in cap, graying brown hair, and a thick mustache, looked over at his compatriot and remarked quietly, "Quite a bit of power in that swing."

The slightly younger man, who sported a clean-shaven face and slightly longer and occasionally curly brown hair tucked under a hat, remarked, "Yeah, you ain't kidding, Lou. That kind of power won't be down here for very long."

Lou nodded. "Yeah, sounds about right. You think you can work with that, Jake?"

Jake nodded. "Shoot, with a swing that natural? I can do anything with that."

Alex, hearing voices, took one more solid swing and then stepped back, turning around to see the two men. He stepped out of the cage and held out his hand. "Alex Walker. Nice to meet you gentlemen."

The older of the two introduced himself. "Lou Brown. Manager of the Baysharks. Nice to meet you, son. Looking forward to working with you."

The younger man introduced himself. "Jake Taylor. Hitting coach."

After shaking hands, Lou asked, "You ready to head out onto the field?"

Alex nodded. "Yes, sir. Let's do it."

Alex followed the two coaches out of the cage, down a little walkway that looped around the end of the right field fence and the edge of the right foul line wall. He walked past the bullpen, a small two-story club for fans that overlooked the bullpen and right field, and through a gate over and a few feet behind first base near the home dugout. He stepped up to home plate, dug his feet into the dirt, and watched as Jake Taylor stood behind the L Screen, prepared to throw batting practice. Alex stared, watched as Jake threw, tracked the ball, and took his first swing, crushing a ball well over the right field fence. Lou whistled to himself and said, "Man, that's a leftie with some power."

After fifteen minutes, the two coaches had seen all they needed to see. Lou called Alex over and said, "Son, I'll tell you right now, you keep up your bat speed, you keep working on snapping our hips around, you've got a chance to stick in the bigs. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Alex nodded and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

Alex left the two coaches and walked back to the clubhouse. After sitting back down in the clubhouse in front of his locker, he took a moment to stare at the hat and jersey in front of him. The hats were green with yellow bills, having a yellow MB logo on the front. The jersey, which was the first he had ever owned that had his last name on it, was green with yellow lettering and numbers. The white and green jerseys had the word "Baysharks" on them, while the gray and yellow jerseys had "Myrtle Beach" written on them. Alex smiled, slipped each one on to try, and finally after a few minutes slid the last of his gear into the locker and headed home.

A couple hours later, Serena sat out on the deck in a swimsuit, tanning and listening to music, her eyes closed as the magnificent sunset unfolded in front of her. She smiled as she thought about her new reality. That morning, she had been damaged goods, another troubled socialite that had fallen victim to the trappings of Manhattan. That evening, she was simply another face in the crowd in the beautiful beach town of Myrtle Beach. She was getting a chance to start over and live her life the way that she knew she needed to.

She opened her eyes, slid off the chair, put on a flowing linen cover dress, and walked out onto the beach, staring out at the waves that were crashing across the sand in the fading light. The sky was a beautiful orange and purple as the sun set behind the hotels and houses that made up the shoreline.

Hope. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though the burdens of her past were beginning to slide off her shoulders. She felt as though she had hope. She had a chance to start anew. And that gave her joy. It gave her peace. She had something to look forward to.

Alex cut hard on his surfboard and swung back and forth across the wave, dropping down to a knee as the wave began to curl and dragging his fingers across the edge of the water. Despite the roar of the crashing wave, he felt peace. If there was one thing that the minor leagues had so far that the bigs didn't, it was the beach. He grew up on the beach and loved any chance he had to get out and surf.

While lost in his thoughts, the curl began to crash in and the wave crossed, dropping in on him. Alex cut in and attempted to ride it out to beachhead. As he did so, he caught sight of a beautiful blonde girl standing on the beach, arms crossed, staring out at the sunset as her dress billowed in the wind. He was instantly mesmerized.

The moment scattered his concentration, which led to Walker taking a spill. He tumbled over the board and flipped around in the water as the wave crashed around him, swirling with power as he was dragged down to the sandy bottom and dragged towards the beach. After a few seconds, he resurfaced. Out of instinct, he came to the surface and immediately looked for his surfboard, chasing after it a few yards down the beach. After grabbing it, he began to search for the girl, hoping to find her and introduce himself. He caught sight of her walking back up the beach. He called after her, but to no avail. He did, however, see her step up and into a patio behind a large beach house. He smiled to himself and thought, "Well, this certainly is gonna be a new spot."

Serena stared out at the waves and smiled. A really cute guy cut back and forth on a surfboard, running his fingers through the water and sending nondescript glances towards her. She grinned and thought, "You know, a little summer fling wouldn't be the worst idea…"

She watched as he tumbled through the water, going down to the mercy of the waves. Catching a brief chill as the wind picked up and feeling hunger beginning to creep up on her, she slowly turned around and began to walk up towards the house. She took the time to walk slowly, though, making sure that any surfer who might have been looking would know where she was staying. She turned around as she closed the gate, thinking that she might have heard someone yelling, but turned back around to walk inside, intent on getting food and a glass of wine. She smiled as she walked inside. "This is going to be a good summer."