Hello everyone, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’ll be returning to Big Windup!, for the most simple and pure reason of all: I really, really want to know what happens next. With Mihashi’s initial insecurities about joining a new team at least mitigated, if not resolved, Big Windup! has swiveled its focus outwards, introducing close to half a dozen new rivals, and floating the upcoming summer tournament as the crucible that will bind them together. It was certainly compelling watching Abe navigate the potholes of Mihashi’s battered psyche, but now that they’re a genuine battery, I’m eager to see our team face off against all manner of nefarious foes.
Of course, it’s clearly not going to be quite that simple. Mihashi is still largely commanded by his insecurities, and with last episode having introduced Abe’s previous star pitcher, I’m guessing our anxious ace will need some consoling. At the same time, this new arrival offers an opportunity to dip into Abe’s own history, and perhaps reveal why he’s gained such a distrustful disposition. Either way, I’m sure Big Windup!’s delightful mix of psychology and tactics will carry us through the drama to come. Let’s get to it!
Episode 9
“It looks like it’ll last forever, but it’s one summer, over in a flash.” High school may be brief, but nostalgia is forever. Frankly, I can’t really blame anime for its preoccupations; adulthood is kinda boring
We open on the top of the fourth inning, with Haruna at last taking the mound
“He really does only throw 80 pitches.” Abe framed this as Haruna’s “selfishness,” but it seems impossible to fault someone for trying to preserve their body in a position as taxing as baseball pitching. This dichotomy seems to reflect more on Abe than Haruna, his unquestionable willingness to do anything for victory
“Everyone is afraid to get hurt. But I knew if I could catch his ball, I’d be a regular member.” Right, and here we see Abe proudly embodying his own philosophy in the past. It seems like Mihashi may eventually teach him how to have fun playing baseball, and not just obsessing over victory
Effective use of perspective shots for this flashback, putting us in Abe’s position to emphasize the terror of facing down Haruna’s pitches
Apparently Haruna walks as many batters as he strikes out, and has bad control. His effectiveness is purely in his power, something that naturally puts more strain on his catcher, while also allowing that catcher less ability to control the game through directions. Combine that with his presumed lack of respect for his catcher’s directions, and it’s no wonder Abe hated catching for this guy
Abe realizes that his declaration of “the worst pitcher” was a mistake, as now his teammates are all curious about what makes someone the worst pitcher, and Abe probably doesn’t want to say “a pitcher who won’t listen to my orders”
We jump back to Abe’s first year of middle school. He seems more upbeat and earnest, having yet to adopt the cynical, reserved posture he now favors
The coach begins explaining the pitch rotation, but Haruna butts in to say he’ll decide it himself
Like Mihashi and his previous team, it seems like many of Abe’s bad habits likely come from his relationship with Haruna. Haruna doesn’t trust his catcher’s instincts, and so Abe has learned not to trust his pitcher’s instincts
Haruna immediately dismisses Abe, saying he can’t pitch with “a first year as a target.” And when Abe protests that he’s not that bad, Haruna immediately gets pissed off, and proves Abe’s weakness with a series of blistering pitches to the chest. Not just a lack of teamwork, but an active disdain for his teammates
Yeah, Haruna really does suck. He claims that catchers can’t handle him because he’s just too powerful, but in truth Abe is getting hit because of his lack of control
Very in character for Abe to internalize this as a result of his own lack of skill, though. In keeping with his desire for both excellence and independence, Abe wants to master every single thing that is within his control. His pitcher might be unreliable, but it’s foolish to expect any of your teammates to be reliable – if he can mitigate his pitcher’s failings with his own skill, then that’s exactly what he has to do
He’s still quite young and idealistic, though, so a single compliment from Haruna really affects him
Sakaeguchi still won’t let the “worst pitcher” thing go, so Abe deflects by complaining about Mihashi’s terrible poker face
“Calling someone you teamed up with ‘the worst’ doesn’t make your current teammates feel good.” “Really?” Oh my god Abe. He does his best, but he has some real trouble thinking outside of his own perspective, and imagining the insecurities of someone with a less brutally pragmatic approach to their play
Well, I’m glad Sakaeguchi is here to translate between the two of them
“If the game wasn’t worth going all-out for, he wouldn’t throw a single pitch at full strength.” Alright, now I’m starting to see where Abe is coming from. Haruna wasn’t just preserving his body, he possessed zero loyalty or commitment to his team, seeing all of his current actions as tedious stepping stones on the way to the pro leagues
“I don’t need any signs. Only half the pitches I throw go to the spots I intend, anyway.” Yeah, this guy is just designed to infuriate Abe
“I didn’t want to throw that pitch, so I didn’t!” Haruna may think he’s conserving himself for the big leagues, but he’ll be in for a rude awakening once he reaches a team that doesn’t have to put up with his bullshit
“Pitchers have the right to shake their head!” “That’s true, but if I let him do that, he’d just pitch what he wanted all the time.” Through Haruna, Abe learned to see the battery relationship as an adversarial one, not an equal partnership. No wonder he doesn’t want to give Mihashi an inch of leverage
Things came to a head in the round of sixteen tournament, when their opening pitcher let five runs through. Abe begs Haruna to pitch at full strength, but he refuses
“You’re such a nag! If you keep going, I’ll leave the mound right now.” There can be no true teamwork with a pitcher like this; rather than supporting you when you need help, he’s actively looking for reasons to abandon this team
In fact, Haruna actually loads the bases with walks, and then steps off the mound right when their cleanup arrives. He basically destroys their chances out of spite
“Why am I here? What have I been catching his pitches for?” That devastating moment when long-term self-delusion meets reality, and you are forced to admit that you are the only one who was truly committed to what you have been doing. I sympathize completely; frankly, I tend to prefer solo activities in part because it’s impossible to guarantee shared commitment levels within a group
Some great character animation after the game; a strong sense of both weight and fluidity as Abe grabs the larger Haruna, and frantically slams him against a wall
“For him, we teammates are just training tools.” I imagine a little of Abe’s dislike of Haruna stems from the ways in which they’re actually similar. Abe himself has to be coerced into seeing his teammates as anything more than useful idiots
“Abe wanted Haruna to really see him.” While Abe frames his anger in practical terms, Mihashi immediately reframes it as an emotional need to be acknowledged. He’s adding some of his own preoccupations to Abe’s mindset, but still recognizing something true that Abe cannot
Abe shows off his devilish pitcher’s grin, a face he describes as “reassuring to your teammates and annoying to your enemies.” Even his expressions are a tactical feint
They reveal that the whole team was listening as a quick throwaway gag, a funny beat that structurally affirms the overall team now understands Abe’s perspective
Haruna nods to Abe before flexing for precisely one full power pitch, shocking his catcher
In spite of Haruna’s alleged indifference, he seems pretty invested in Abe’s perspective. He’s disappointed to see they’ve already left once the game ends
Yeah, it seems like Haruna at least subconsciously understands what a useful ally he threw away
Haruna’s current pitcher also reflects that Haruna was far more aggressive back in Little League. In keeping with Big Windup!’s general focus on player psychology, moments like this emphasize that no person has one stable, unchanging personality all their life. Abe’s perspective on Haruna is in part a reflection of him knowing Haruna during some particularly bad years
And Done
And so we learn Abe’s own messy history. Abe’s relationship with Haruna serves as a natural contrast to Mihashi: while Mihashi’s unsupportive teammates taught him not to believe in his own abilities, Haruna’s obstinate selfishness taught Abe not to rely on his teammates’ abilities. Between the two of them, they could have developed a famously unhealthy relationship on the field; fortunately, Momoe was there to force each of them to actually get over their baggage, and learn to communicate as equals. Meanwhile, Haruna already seems like a solidly multifaceted rival, and we’ve got even more contenders coming into focus all the time. I’m eager to get to our first tournament!
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