Hello folks, and welcome the heck back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am eager to return to the field for a fresh episode of Big Windup!, with our team having successfully navigated Mihashi’s surprise birthday party. And I mean that “surprise party” in sort of the reverse of the normal sense, as Mihashi himself was the one who invited his team over to his house, thus surprising them with the reveal that their team meeting was actually a birthday party. Nonetheless, the gathering ultimately drew our team closer together, with Abe again resolving to carry this scrappy yet unexpectedly talented team to victory.
Though actually, his phrasing was a little more precise than that. Abe is no longer thinking in terms of “carry” or “exploit” – he’s come to realize that these are teammates he can genuinely rely on, not just tools to fulfill his own ends. Just as Mihashi was scarred by his resentful middle school teammates, so were Abe’s ambitions corrupted by his unreliable former pitcher. Smart as he was, he could not see the limitations of his own cynical perspective; but now, with a trusted team beside him, he’s learning to put his tactical thinking to use in service of trust-building gambits like “casually demonstrate to the rest of the team just how precise Mihashi’s pitches can be.” With his scheming now ostensibly aligned with the team’s greater good, I’m eager to see how our boys handle their first serious opponents. Let’s get to it!
Episode 11
“Come on, we should get as passionate as we can!” This OP certainly understands the show’s youthful summer vibe. I unsurprisingly wish anime as a medium weren’t so overwhelmingly preoccupied with adolescence, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get the nostalgic appeal
That bright blue sky leads us into the Summer National High School Baseball Tournament. Big Windup!’s storyboards consistently prioritize space and its absence – lots of open skies and wide shots panning across the diamond for moments of optimism and energy, lots of claustrophobic shots closing in on faces and hands for moments of anxiety and regret
Our boys stand awkwardly in line as lots are drawn to decide the tournament bracket. I appreciate the small details of passive body language defining them even at a distance like this, with Mihashi always obvious via his slumped shoulders and generally defensive posture
Tajima proudly declares that “we’re all freshman, we’ll get bigger,” which of course just makes his teammates more nervous. Even these idle conversations demonstrate Big Windup!’s understanding of the friction inherent in our perspectives, how a thought that inspires Tajima’s confidence might only rouse the anxieties of his teammates
Mihashi runs into Haruna in the bathroom, who looks ready to start a fight. Seems that’s how his nerves express themselves in this tense moment of anticipation
“Oh no, did I injure him?” Yet as quick as he is to anger, he’s just as quick to regret his temper and confirm Mihashi is fine. Another very Big Windup! flourish, emphasizing the frequent distance between our unconsidered affectation and our underlying intentions
Mihashi blurts out “Haruna is a nice person!” when Abe calls him, pulling Haruna back into the conversation as well
Love how completely Haruna’s pitcher acts as his handler, literally blocking Haruna with one arm in order to steer the conversation in a productive direction
“It’s okay, right? I’m Nishiura’s pitcher, right?” God, even now Mihashi feels like he has to apologize for just admitting that he’s the team pitcher
And seeing Mihashi’s clear weakness, Haruna reflects that he’s already won. No surprise that a pitcher who takes such confident, definitive command of his own actions on the mound would assume a pitcher lacking such confidence is inherently inferior. We act in the way that comes naturally, and then construct a philosophy of righteousness or strength that flatters our natural instincts. Haruna is strong, but brittle – he’s likely a better pitcher than Mihashi at the moment, but true long-term growth demands an ability to acknowledge your weaknesses
The actual easy confidence of Haruna’s catcher is demonstrated through his willingness to ask a girl to grab some toilet paper from the other bathroom. No pretensions with this guy, which makes him a genuinely dangerous opponent
“Haruna is a nice person!” “What, did he give you some gum or something?” Even after committed to helping him, Abe can only take Mihashi so seriously
“What an idiot. Don’t you see he’s looking down on you!?” Mihashi is indeed too pure to parse Haruna’s condescension
Of course, Abe knows better than to actually explain the situation to Mihashi, and contents himself with some bitter internal grumbling about rubbing Haruna’s face in their victories
They begin drawing for team positions in the bracket. The character designs are doing a good job of emphasizing the relative youth of our team – the upperclassmen of other teams tend to have more defined jaws and frequently longer faces, contrasting with the inherent boyishness of our round-headed, big-eyed crew
We get some reasonably graceful exposition setting up our coming foes, as the boys gossip about what teams are strongest. This all works mainly because kids in these situations are absolutely having exactly these conversations; what they’re sharing is relatively common knowledge, but they’re all excited to add in their takes
“There must be many amazing pitchers I don’t know…” Mihashi continues to express the quality that first caught Abe’s interest – his lack of ego means he’s practically an empty vessel, eager to learn from whoever’s willing to guide him. A sharp contrast from Haruna, who’s perfectly content with his own perspective
“Hanai, you’ve got bad luck at lotteries, right?” “How can you say that to someone who’s about to draw?” Because Abe don’t give a fuck about your superstitions, Hanae
Abe’s ruthless, but he’s acting with clear intent here. Superstitions will only limit his teammates’ abilities by burdening them with unwarranted anxiety; if he can challenge Hanae’s assumptions here, in a moment where Hanae’s actions don’t have any actual relationship to the outcome, so much the better
Abe himself is presumably taking the logical approach here: don’t spend any time worrying about what lot would be best to pick, because you have no control over it. Instead, set your mind to accepting whatever outcome arrives as the only outcome possible, so you won’t enter your first game with a sense that you’ve “missed out” on a better option, which can easily become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Superstitions aren’t based on real data, but they can certainly have a real effect on your mental state
He ultimately draws a matchup with Tosei, one of the top seeded schools and last year’s champions
Momoe immediately sets to work rallying the team’s ambitions. Very appropriate for Big Windup! that their first “battle” of the summer tournament is actually a psychological one: fostering a mindset that will allow them to play well enough to win against a seemingly unbeatable foe
Once again, it’s Tajima who expresses no fear of losing, with Abe swiftly affirming that there is indeed a route to victory. Tajima’s confidence is essential, as the team can trust it, whereas they already know Abe tends to say what he thinks needs to be said
“Tosei is well-documented, so we can prepare quite a bit.” Abe of course appreciates having so much data to work with
It’s certainly one of the things that makes baseball uniquely compelling – how much planning and strategy can overcome pure athletic proficiency. If you know your opponent well enough, you can calibrate your entire game plan to their weaknesses
Momoe’s commitment inspires the troops as well. Seeing their leader so willing to sacrifice for practice makes it easy to think that such practice will actually pay off
Their opponents briefly consider running their second-string players against this unknown opponent, before their captain sets them straight. Not only do they need to set a strong example in the first round, but they were actually defeated in the first round two years ago, meaning the seniors still feel that pain of letting a promising tournament run immediately slip through their fingers. Bad luck for our boys; their opponents aren’t going to play this carelessly
Back at practice, the boys are greeted by a fellow student named Hamada, who’s apparently in Tajima’s class
Turns out he’s also a childhood friend of Mihashi. He offers to create a cheer squad for our boys
And Done
Thus the die is cast, and the brackets for the summer tournament have been decided! I was certainly expecting an unfortunate result from poor Hanai, but drawing last year’s actual winners is still an impressive feat of lucklessness. Of course, Big Windup! was swift to steer the team’s despair in a variety of productive directions, emphasizing how the distinct styles of confidence embodied by Momoe, Tajima, and Abe can all contribute in their own way to raising the team’s spirits. Before the actual game comes the strategic game, and before that must come the psychological game, a field in which our team’s leaders and Big Windup! as a production absolutely excel. It’s time to take down Tosei!
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