Hello folks, and welcome the heck back to Wrong Every Time. You all ready for some baseball? When last we left off, Mihashi and his new teammates had at last pulled ahead of his former team, securing two runs while Mihashi maintained his clean shutout. Mihashi’s actual skill level was always clear to opposing pitcher Kanou, and with his teammates refusing to see it, Kanou’s nerve was badly shaken. In fact, he almost got in a fight with his catcher Hatake, before their reliable ace and apparent mediator Oda cleared everyone’s heads.
Things have been going smoothly so far, but that’s largely been a result of the Mihoshi team not taking this match seriously. With Kanou now having made clear just how much this match means to him, his teammates have rallied to his side, and Mihashi will now be facing a far more motivated opposing lineup. Even Momoe recognized the fraught nature of this moment, urging Abe to protect his pitcher the best he can. Mihashi is currently like a bright-eyed baby bird on the verge of leaving the nest, and it’s up to Abe to keep him from being… perforated with emotional buckshot? I dunno, that metaphor kinda got away from me. Regardless, we’re at a critical moment, and I’m eager to see these teams face off at full strength. Let’s get to the field!
Episode 6
Still always perked up by this jangly guitar and disco hihat. There was an era of Japanese pop-rock around the mid-late ‘00s that really appealed to me, and so a lot of the shows from around that era have songs that I still remember – “Sakasama Bridge” from Arakawa Under the Bridge still plays in my head sometimes
Interesting to think how odd points of cultural convergence like that can have unexpected impacts on our relationship with art. If I’m particularly appreciative of the popular music from a given era of anime production, I’ll likely have a slightly fonder impression of all the properties that were impacted by that musical wave, regardless of the other content of those shows. On the other hand, if you give your show a math-rock opening like 86 or a screamo opening like Tokyo Ghoul, I’m going to enter each episode with a baked-in sense of skepticism. Music choices have a profound impact on drama’s effectiveness, so it’s a little unfortunate that anime OPs and EDs are frequently chosen for sponsorship reasons, rather than because they’re the best possible choice
Mihashi really does look like a baby bird, or a puppy, or something. He tilts his head so low on the mound, his big eyes nervously centering on Abe for assurance
Two batters strike out, leaving us one batter away from the end of the fourth inning. Shortstop Yashi steps up to the plate
And he’s out!
Some nice layouts to reintroduce us to the field of play, creating a sense of depth through the three layers of foreground player, Mihashi on the mound, and the outfield behind
These minimalist title cards are so distinctive. Just white text against blue sky, like another cloud floating by. It feels like Mizushima had a very clear idea of a “perfect day for baseball,” the kind of day that naturally evokes fond childhood games, and invites you to come outside and play. Every single episode emphasizes the endless blue sky and comfortable heat of their environment, subtly drawing us into the headspace of a spectator on game day
Mizushima has an incredible track record of directing shows where it’s pleasant just to hang out in the show’s space, regardless of what’s actually happening. He’s not an ostentatious visual artist in any way, but the man is a genius of pacing and tone
The Mihoshi dynamic has clearly changed. Yashi immediately apologizes to Kanou for getting out, which Kanou responds to with “it’s too early to apologize. Let’s finish this inning quickly!” A key change for both sides – Kanou’s teammates are now supporting him, while Kanou himself is trying to act strong and lead from the mound
I like this shot of Kanou rising into the frame on the mound, as he attempts to rally for a comeback. That vast blue sky can also be a source of intimidation, emphasizing the isolation of the pitcher’s role
Oh my god. Mihashi doesn’t take practice swings in the box, he just sits, waiting quietly for his turn with his legs folded
The limited animation still clearly conveys Mihashi’s nervous posture as he walks towards the plate. All of his limbs are tucked as close to his body as possible, and he clings to the bat like a lifeline
As ever, Oda keeps a careful eye on his teammates. Kanou seems to have calmed down, so now it’s time to score some runs
Ooh, some brief but nicely detailed cuts for Mihashi’s pitch. I like how the folds of his uniform flow over the course of his motion
It seems like Abe may be baiting Oda, throwing him pitches that look hittable, but are outside the zone. He’s using Oda’s comfort with batting against him, since Oda is sure he can hit Mihashi’s relatively slow pitches
“My body can’t adjust to the way-inside balls right after a pitch outside.” Yep, it seems Abe is basically leading him on a wild goose chase around the strike zone
“These wild pitches are working to his advantage.” Oda has yet to recognize the actual threat here. He sees Mihashi as more unpredictable than accurate, not realizing Abe has specifically selected every single pitch so far
“Darn it! If I’m thinkin’ this hard in the box, I’ve already lost.” But he certainly recognizes when he’s been beat
“Psyching the batter out of even taking a pitch is the best strikeout for a pitcher!” Abe can’t afford to just try and strike out the opponents – he has to strike them out in a way that protects and bolsters Mihashi’s fragile confidence. Every batter is a chance to make Mihashi feel like he belongs, and also a threat capable of destroying his love for baseball altogether
“If you stay with me, I’ll make you feel like this whenever you want!” The dramatic distance between a sports partnership and a romance is less than you might think
The opposing coach is the substitute for the head coach, who’s at the away game that Oda wanted to attend. He’s beginning to feel the pressure of potentially losing to this “no name team”
We speed on to the sixth inning, with one out and Abe on first, after a walk. Each walk’s gotta feel like a personal failure for the pitcher, so we’re primed to take advantage of Kanou’s emotional instability once again!
Next up is Tajima, the cleanup hitter. They intentionally walk him, taking no chances with a man on base. Getting a clean hit is difficult enough that it can be better just to walk any actual batting threats, and achieve your outs on batters you know you can strike out
Oof. Hanai hits right to third, creating an easy double play
Abe still has trouble dealing with Mihashi’s overwhelming Mihashi-ness. Mihashi fumbles some encouraging small talk as Abe returns to the dugout, and Abe can’t help but snap at him a bit, still annoyed about their failed inning
“Damn! I provoked him and made him more homesick. I must concentrate on delivering results. No pitcher can resist the joy of victory!” Oh, Abe. I suppose steering Mihashi to victory might seem easier than just being gentle with him
We continue to speed along, moving to the bottom of the seventh. Kanou’s coach tells him he needs to take a rest, and keep his pitching count below one hundred
A “pitching count” is, as you might guess, the number of pitches a pitcher throws in a given game. The thing about pitching is, our human bodies are not intended or prepared for the strain that professional-grade pitching puts on them. Over time, pitchers’ arms just wear out, and they can’t maintain the speed or control of their peak years. What’s more, if pitchers are overstressed during their early years, their pitching arms will wear out even faster, as they destroy their not-fully-developed bodies. Horror stories of pitchers who were burned out by intense high school play or overbearing coaches are frustratingly common, and all pitchers must be vigilant about the condition of their bodies. As frustrating as it may feel to sub out in a close game, it’s far, far, far more important to keep your body safe, and I appreciate Big Windup!’s acknowledgment of that fact
“What part of your pitching do you think is weaker than Mihashi’s?” I like how little ego Oda has about his play. He’s a true talent – when faced with something he can’t beat, he embraces humility and asks for advice
“I think what defines a pitcher is that he loves to pitch enough to throw for a whole game.” Oh, Kanou, please. Maybe in a casual context, but you’re actually firing heaters out there. You can’t define yourself by your willingness to destroy yourself!
“Since around the 8th grade, Mihashi has never made a careless pitch.” This is the key Oda was looking for: Mihashi isn’t actually wild, he has pinpoint control. Knowing that Mihashi’s pitches are intentional might help him predict what will be coming next
Oda is so stunned by the scale of Mihashi’s actual talent that at first he can’t believe it, and then is suitably terrified. He assumed Mihashi’s pitches were wild because the alternative is that Mihashi is a genius of accuracy
It’s easy to see now how frustrating this all must have been for Kanou – his teammates literally couldn’t parse the scale of Mihashi’s talent, and thus assumed Kanou was just making things up
Hearing all this, Mihoshi’s coach comes up with a one-use plan
An error by the left fielder gets a man on base with an easy pop fly. Incidentally, an “error” in baseball is when a fielder misplays in a way that lets a runner advance in some way. These are distinct from clean hits, where fault is attributed to the pitcher. There are many types of pitches where the batter is “supposed” to hit it, but hit it in such a way that preventing a run should be trivially easy for the opposing team, like a grounder right to a base, or a pop fly out into the field. When the fielders fail to hold up their end of the bargain and fumble the assumed out, that’s an error
And now Oda’s up with a man on base
Abe remembers every pitch he’s sent to Oda, in order. Abe is frightening
The coach’s plan is insane – he has Oda actually close his eyes for the first pitch, so as not to be conditioned by its trajectory, and then just check the position of the mitt after the fact. This prevents him from naturally gravitating towards the position of the previous pitch
Abe is totally fooled, but Mihashi sees Oda’s closed eyes, and senses something is wrong. This is a key moment for both of them: can Mihashi assert his disagreement with Abe’s instincts, and can Abe accept Mihashi’s input?
“I have to pitch how Abe said, or he’ll hate me!” Yeah, that’s about where Mihashi’s at right now. Forget asserting himself, he’s still terrified Abe will abandon him
Oda strikes it cleanly, reaching third and sending a runner home
“Abe’s… mad. Even though I didn’t shake my head.” As a deeply self-conscious person, Mihashi spends a vast portion of his time worrying about what other people are thinking about him. Because of this, he can’t recognize that Abe is actually angry at himself – he sees all frustration in others as somehow his fault
What’s more, because Abe is mad at himself, he’s neglecting to manage Mihashi’s feelings
Oh god. Given he was Mihashi’s former catcher, Hatake recognizes his tell for a fastball, and hits a home run
“No matter how good Abe’s calls are, it’s me pitching.” The moment they encounter failure, Mihashi retreats into self-hatred. They really did a number on this boy
But he stands back up! C’mon Mihashi, hold strong!
And Done
Oh god, that was a disaster. It was clear from the start that this was going to be an incredibly lopsided game – either Mihashi’s true talents completely wipe out his old teammates, or they find a crack in his armor, and his mental state collapses entirely. Abe and Mihashi are an effective team, but an incredibly fragile one. Abe is overconfident and gets frustrated easily, while Mihashi has so little confidence that he can’t even contradict his catcher. The two are a fascinating mix of outsized strengths and weaknesses, and it’s delightful watching them tumble their way through this messy, emotionally fraught game. With a one-run deficit and two innings to go, I’m eager to see how they rally for this game’s final act!
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Once One Piece is over, I think it’s worth trying to sell your roommates on Haikyuu. It has a lot of similar looks into the psychology like this show, but let’s be real: baseball is a bit shit as a game. The pacing of baseball is horrid, and basically no one on defense matters outside of the battery. On top of all of that, baseball’s start-stop nature means that 90% of its gametime has no motion. Haikyuu has some truly gorgeous bits of animation, as well as strong game pacing, which in turn makes the integration of tactics-and-psychology more dynamic, as well, since they get to be demonstrated through action and not just talking heads.
What I like about Big Windup is that they are willing to spend multiple episodes on pitch-by-pitch coverage of a single game. And spend time inside everybody’s head while they’re doing it. It’s really a baseball anime. Season 2 is even better because they spend just as much time on the game, and Mihashi isn’t such a dishrag.