Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re returning to the field at the bottom of the eighth inning, with clear underdogs Nishiura having just earned their third run, tying them up with the first-seeded Tosei team. And frankly, Tosei seemed lucky to get away with just that; given the extended fastball duel between Tosei pitcher Takase and Nishiura cleanup Tajima, it’s clear those Nishiura boys are hungry for a win. Meanwhile, Nishiura’s new pitcher Mihashi might well be the story of the season; after an apparently lackluster middle school career, he’s rallied back as the spearpoint of a remarkable lineup, showing tremendous talent in his suppression of Tosei’s best-in-class batting lineup.
That’s right, it’s time for more Big Windup!, as we surge towards the conclusion of Nishiura’s first summer tournament game. After a half season of interrogating both the general psychology of baseball and the distinct abilities of Nishiura’s players, their faceoff with Tosei has proven an absurd buffet of tactical gambits and countermeasures, seasoned with the occasional dash of unlikely misfortune. The show seems a perfect marriage of base material and adaptive talent; Asa Higuchi’s emphasis on both the psychological and mechanical ebb and flow of baseball is perfectly suited to Tsutomu Mizushima’s love of grounded, gamified drama, resulting in a viewing experience where every new challenge emerges naturally from the previously explicated board state. Now, with the score tied and just an inning and a half to go, let’s see what fresh hurdles await our brave players!
Episode 22
Feels like the harmonica is a particularly appropriate instrument for this OP because it always sounds awkward and on the verge of death, much like a teenager giving their all in a sporting event
We open with a recap of last episode’s most consequential moment, as a brief slip in the mud by Tosei’s baseman facilitated the tying run by Nishiura. You could call that a stroke of bad luck, but luck is a part of the game – and as every episode of this match has made clear, much of baseball’s drama concerns managing odds, facilitating risks you can manage versus risks you cannot. Every pitch and swing is a gamble, you just have to make sure you’re gambling with full knowledge of the consequences
“We can’t score while defending, but if we defend well, we will not lose.” Mihashi’s analysis of the game points towards his growing confidence in his teammates. He is certain that so long as he doesn’t let them down, they’ll come through with the winning run in the ninth
In contrast with Mihashi’s quiet personal reflections, the stands roar with the sound of Tosei’s impressive cheer squad. Of course, given the rain and Mihashi’s focus on the innings ahead, at this point I imagine he can barely hear them
“I won’t let them get through another rotation. From here on, they’ll have their final at-bat.” Certainly there must be a sense of mental relief in thinking that every batter they strike out from now on is defeated permanently. That also makes it easier for them to use the pitches they’ve been concealing, as their opponents will no longer have to the time to reflect back on them and adjust their play
As such, Abe is unsurprisingly unleashing Mihashi’s weirdly slow fastball, counting on there no longer being enough time for Tousei to respond to it
“The moment I judge it as a ball, my swing gets odd even if I chant to myself that it’s a strike.” As I discussed in the previous episode, Mihashi’s pitches are actually even more effective against highly trained batters, whose ingrained instincts will betray them when they attempt to assess his throws
A shame for our boys that Aoki is the first to swing this inning, meaning he’s the most likely to get another at-bat
One more unexpected fastball sends Aoki back to the dugout, with catcher Kawai now up
Kawai reflects on a possible method of subverting his players’ own natural instincts – having them attempt to foul instead of hit Mihashi’s fastballs, which naturally leads them to swing more slowly, thus actually connecting by accident. If you can’t counteract your muscle memory programming, you can hopefully at least direct your swings down a more productive programming path
“I won’t try to foul it; I’ll pretend like it’s a curveball…” The internal monologue does a phenomenal job of demonstrating how dangerous Kawai’s at-bats are, and how much information he can gather even across just three pitches
Kawai’s deductions lead him to swing confidently at an unexpected curveball, earning him first base
Tosei’s coach reflects on the danger of them just catching the edge of all these quasi-fastballs. If they foul that’s one thing, but all these infield pop-ups run the risk of actually being caught and turned into outs. With Mihashi’s pitches, it’s hard to even “safely” foul off, because the ball just doesn’t make it very far
Abe laments that he thought he had successfully baited Kawai, which he actually had – it’s just that Kawai was quick enough to hit the curveball anyway. Sufficient practice and mechanical skill can still win out over superior tactics; in any field, you tend to see the best contests between people who are equally matched, and thus forced to bring all their skills to bear
With the eighth batter in order having repeatedly hit Mihashi’s pitches, it now comes down to the team to beat Tosei during the sixth and seventh batters’ at-bats. If they can guard both first and second, they can get a double play – but of course, Tosei know that, and are thus eager to bunt in order to advance a runner, exchanging a likely out for a split field where double plays are impossible. Remarkable how well this show is able to find distinct conflicts not just for each match, but for every inning – here, “can the first base runner advance to second” feels like a matter of life and death, with that looming clock of the eighth batter waiting to send him home
Tosei outmaneuvers Nishiura with an unexpected play, combining a base steal with a bunt fake-out into a line drive. After playing with such confidence during the first half, it’s fun to see Tosei’s players embracing the idea of this match as an uphill battle, where they must be scrappy to survive rather than just rely on superior batting and fielding
Meanwhile, Abe is simply annoyed with his opponents for choosing a high-risk play that he himself would consider illogical. An extremely Abe mindset – he may have grown to appreciate Mihashi, but there’s still a part of him that considers anyone disagreeing with his deductions as a personal failing on their part
Excellent tempo of rapid cuts as a second batter pulls the same fake-bunt swing, resulting in a drive between second and third that actually brings a man home. Given it’s a medium realized progressively across time, anime lacks manga’s capacity to essentially show the same moment from multiple perspectives at once through a close spread of panels, but that very control over the viewer’s temporal experience can also create a great sense of dramatic momentum
A high overhead shot does a fine job of evoking Nishiura’s suddenly looming challenge, as they must once again catch up before they even have a chance of pulling ahead
And the ensuing shots maintain this sense of scale, offering multilayered compositions that contrast our players and the dugout against the viewers in the stands
Tosei’s coach also acknowledges the risks of their strategy, but sees them as necessary gambles – not only were they able to make use of the weaker end of their batting order, but they also totally seized the momentum of the game, with Nishiura having only one inning in which to reverse the trend
With a runner on third, the eighth batter in rotation sets up for another bunt, seemingly hoping to solidify their lead through a sacrifice play
“With the condition of our field today, I have no idea what’ll happen next.” Even Abe is feeling the pressure, exhibited through his willingness to admit that not everything is under his control
Though Mihashi panics when the ball is hit right back at him, he’s able to collect it and send it home just in time to stop the run. But god, it’s so frustrating to depend on someone with such huge weaknesses! Stressed as he is, Abe can no longer keep his cool, and calls a timeout purely so he can rage at his timid, uncertain pitcher
“When I say home, you throw to home!! Don’t you go against me anymore!!” Yep. With this much pressure, Abe can no longer manage to run his “speak gently for Mihashi’s sake” performance on top of his usual mannerisms. Honestly, I feel for him; it is a frustrating thing to be perpetually asked to guide someone who can’t handle the blunt truth. One reason I never seriously considered becoming a teacher – I’m too impatient, and find no satisfaction in slowing down or modulating my tone so others can keep up
Of course, Mihashi was only worried Abe might get hurt, and leave him alone on the mound again. Mihashi believes, not unreasonably, that Abe’s guidance is the only thing standing between him and a repeat of his middle school years
With their ninth batter proving incapable of handling the fastball, the eighth inning at last comes to a close
And Done
Man, fuck these brutal innings! Every time Nishiura’s on defense it feels like they’re basically just plugging holes in a dam with their fingers, desperately hoping the game ends before the water bursts through. Perhaps even more so than the actual run, the agony of this episode was largely contained in the process of Kawai and his compatriots pointedly analyzing Mihashi’s fastball, seeking the key that would basically end Nishiura altogether. Big Windup! feels almost like a Hunter x Hunter battle in that regard – the mechanics of a given pitcher might as well be their own nen techniques, a series of rules and proficiencies that, if understood, can almost always be dismantled. Thank god Tosei spent the first few innings bewildered rather than studiously seeking data; regardless, if Nishiura wins out, it will be one of the most thoroughly earned skin-of-their-teeth victories I’ve seen.
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