Hello everyone, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am pleased to report that we’re returning to the dugout and loosening our shoulders for a fresh inning of Big Windup! This production has more than proven the merits of its sports drama/psychology combo, harnessing the unique dynamics of baseball to essentially construct a unique psychological subgame. Abe must use his players as board pieces to outmaneuver his opponents, carefully managing their emotions to essentially “trick them” into playing better than their own instincts would dictate. Simultaneously, he must carefully manage the expectations of his opponents, using their own preferences against them through manipulation of Mihashi’s precision pitches.
All of this would likely work if Abe were playing some strategy video game. Unfortunately, this is real life, where the emotions of others are never fully within your control, and your opponents have just as much opportunity for tactical innovation as you do. Mihoshi’s coach concocted a maneuver that actually put his team in the lead, and with two innings left, Mihashi is on the verge of an emotional spiral that may end his pitching career altogether. With Abe’s plans in tatters, could it finally be time for Mihashi to step up, and for Abe to trust his pitcher’s instincts? Let’s find out!
Episode 7
I swear I’m gonna figure out how this pop era achieved that specific jangly guitar tone. It’s got that crunchy, almost “cheap” Fender sound to it, but there’s clearly also some pedals involved. Also not much low end in the tone… power chords rather than full ones, presumably, especially given the genre
Momoe quickly assesses the situation, reflecting on how Abe and Mihashi’s situations have reversed. It makes sense given their histories and personalities; Mihashi may not believe in himself, but he is accustomed to failure, and also accustomed to picking himself back up. In contrast, Abe tends to have absolute confidence in his own decision-making, and thus being so outmaneuvered by his opponents has left him genuinely shaken. He’ll need to learn to roll with unexpected failures if he’s going to lead this team
This show’s soundtrack generally isn’t a standout, but I like these anxious saxophone riffs as Abe reflects on his failures
Fortunately, Abe’s still perceptive enough to see that Mihashi’s blaming himself for letting the pitches through. It doesn’t matter if he correctly executed Abe’s orders – the end result was failure, and Mihashi has learned that making “excuses” for failure will only make everyone else hate him more. Abe can’t afford to stay in his own head with a pitcher like this
Understanding this, Abe quickly apologizes himself, and takes responsibility for the runs
Mihashi’s obliviousness is actually forcing Abe to acknowledge his own feelings and failings, as he angrily admits that he was trying to shut out Mihoshi in order to make Mihashi feel more confident in his play. Abe’s a smart guy, but he’s not good at either trusting others or expressing his own feelings, qualities that are ultimately crucial for an effective leader. Being forced to work with Mihashi is necessarily “softening” him a bit, and actually forcing him to work on the skills he’s neglected
Damn, Momoe is ruthless. She’s realized they’re overtaxing the opposing pitcher, and actually wants to lean into that. She’ll force them to take him off the field by instructing her players to make him reach his pitch limit
Noticing their strategy, opposing catcher Hatake signals Kanou to fire fastballs, assuming the opponents won’t swing even at viable pitches. In response, our batter starts firing off foul balls, maintaining the appearance of engagement while still running up the pitch count – and even more aggressively, since fastballs seriously tax the pitcher
“Shit! I can’t cover for the fatigue with determination anymore!” Nearly spent, Kanou ends up walking the first batter, playing directly into Momoe’s cleanup-based plan
I’m reminded of my long-ago days of playing tennis in high school. I was never a particularly skilled player, but I had lots of stamina, and there’s an odd satisfaction in watching an opponent tire to the point where they can no longer stop you
“I didn’t know that pitching from the mound was such an exhausting task!” Kanou is not prepared for the mental toll of an active game
Oh god, Kanou actually hits the next batter with a pitch. They’re on course for bases loaded in time for the cleanup batter, meaning they can’t just walk him
Love this shot of our cleanup batter just kneeling in the warmup spot, staring at the field like a hungry wolf. This show is remarkably good at making the emotional turns of baseball’s intricate mechanics parsable to pretty much anyone; the overhanging threat of the cleanup batter looms over this inning
Abe, of course, has to flex with his strategizing. When it’s his time at bat, he uses the opponents’ assumption that he’ll draw out the at-bat against them, successfully knocking the first pitch into the field
Kanou asks if he can “grip deep,” meaning holding the ball more completely in his hand when he pitches. Generally, this implies more precise control, but less speed – as Oda helpfully explains, this will unlock a breaking ball that Hatake isn’t certain he can catch. It’s a choice that reflects Kanou’s feeling of being cornered; he doesn’t want to mitigate this situation by accepting a lost run, he wants to challenge the cleanup hitter straight on with his most advanced pitch
The pitch works as expected in both regards: the cleanup batter Tajima can’t hit it, but Hatake can’t catch it, either
Big Windup! celebrates so many of the distinct sub-specialties inherent to baseball. Tajima and Oda are our first “hero batters,” players who can take over the game purely through the strength of their swings, and I love how this scene is building up Tajima’s mentality and concentration. Swinging his bat and sighting along his arms, he comes across like a swordsman or gunslinger preparing for a great duel
It’s a changeup, but Tajima strikes it! The ball sails deep into right field, and everyone springs into action
Terrific fisheye shot for his strike, with the curvature of the ground emphasizing the ball’s escape into the sky
And the animation steps up as well, the fluidity and speed of the characters echoing the intensity of the moment. Baseball is a game composed of 95% strategy and 5% action, which actually makes it perfect for limited animation, which must reserve its fluidity for key moments of excitement. Even Momoe’s hair gets some animation love as we cut between players
They get a run in, but the second runner is caught at home for an out
Aw, what a wonderful gesture by Tajima! He immediately goes over to Mihashi and states that “even though the bases were loaded, I only got one run. That’s pretty lame as the cleanup hitter, but I can still go back to the dugout.” Guided by Abe and Momoe, we’ve now got the whole team working to build up Mihashi’s confidence, and convince him he belongs here
The next batter bunts, and Kanou’s leg fails him as he throws to first, letting another runner through
Oda makes for an interesting counterpoint with Abe. He’s undoubtedly the most attentive analyzer of his teammates, but he doesn’t really have any interest in leadership; he’s mostly just vetting Kanou for his own sake, deciding whether this is a team worth committing himself to
Tajima physically drags Mihashi back to the dugout, where his teammates reveal they’re only worried about him, not angry. See Mihashi, this is the key difference about this school. You can make mistakes here, and learn from them – your team is on your side, not waiting to tear you down
And bolstered by his team’s confidence, Mihashi reveals what he saw about Oda’s batting strategy. Of course, now Abe is just mad that Mihashi didn’t tell him this stuff in the first place
Though the bottom of the ninth remains, the tension is gone. Mihashi’s “victory” was achieved when he contradicted Abe and spoke his mind; the rest is just a victory lap, as he enjoys his final inning on the mound
Mihoshi, with Hatake at their lead, collectively apologize to Mihashi after the game, and actually ask him to return to their team
Mihashi’s actually got a pretty sharp response – he won’t join them, but he’s happy they finally got to truly play baseball together
Ahaha, I love Hatake embracing his old habits a bit after they reconcile, and offering some pitching tips. He might have apologized, but it’s still impossible not to treat Mihashi like a baby bird
And after the game, Mihashi pretty much immediately falls asleep. The implication is clear: he’s at last accepted that he belongs on this team, and can rest easy for the first time
“Isn’t it nice to be trusted?” And in turn, Mihashi is pushing Abe towards where he needs to be, capable of trusting his players as much as he trusts his own instincts
And Done
Great work, boys! Between Abe’s admission of guilt and Tajima’s unexpected pep talk, Mihashi was able to feel comfortable and valued for the first time, and even challenge Abe’s strategizing. His moment of dissent was the key turning point for his journey so far; rather than simply acting in such a way as to avoid being scolded, he actually pushed back against Abe’s confidence, and disarmed Oda’s secret weapon. Meanwhile, the process of building Mihashi’s confidence is actually mitigating Abe’s own deficiencies as a leader, prompting him to open up about his limitations and rely more on his teammates. Our crew is swiftly evolving into a powerful team!
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