Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re returning to the field at the top of the ninth, after an eighth inning that saw both Nishiura and Tosei securing one more run. Unfortunately for Nishiura, this means they’re once again behind their first-seeded opponents, with only a single inning left to first tie and then surpass their opponents. What’s worse, Tosei’s pitcher Takase has clearly shrugged off his early-innings slump, making it all the harder for our boys to run those bases. It seems all hopes rest on Nishiura’s cleanup hitter Tajima – but with Takase at full capacity, will Nishiura survive long enough to let him swing?
Yep, it’s time for more friggin’ Big Windup!, as we return to Nishiura’s absolute nailbiter of a first summer tournament game. Having earned the misfortune of facing off against the first-seeded Tosei players, Abe and his teammates have employed every possible trick to gain an inch of advantage, and at this point might understand the quirks of Takase’s pitching better than he himself does. To win in baseball requires a combination of hard-trained athleticism, ingrained coordination, opponent-specific preparation, in-game analysis, and luck; throughout this match, all of those factors have risen and woven together, demonstrating the exhilarating heights of mechanically grounded drama. Fight on, Nishiura!
Episode 23
Cutting across the players warming up in this OP is a pretty graceful in-universe way of hitting that natural OP beat of highlighting all the main players. I appreciate that every member of Nishiura gets their own shot; for as much as Abe and Mihashi dominate the show’s drama, this match has ensured everyone on the team gets a chance to shine
Hah, love this dramatic synth track as we recap the runs that have brought us to this point. Though each run feels monumental when we’re watching the game at half an inning per episode, this has in truth been a thoroughly run-heavy game
This recap also serves as a reminder that in spite of Big Windup! being a relatively modest production, the character animation is quite strong when it comes to these key moments. Baseball is inherently a somewhat animation-friendly sport, as generally only a few people on the field are moving at any given moment, and a great portion of the drama is entirely psychological
Kinda wild how baseball just briefly becomes a full-contact sport in the context of catchers attempting to block runners from getting home. Little surprise that Mihashi was hesitant to support Abe’s block – it genuinely does feel like a dangerous inclusion in what is otherwise a pretty safe game (outside of what pitching does to your arm, of course)
We open the episode proper with Takase panting hard, in spite of just having ostensibly had half an inning to regain his stamina. His role in their batting order actually helped facilitate their latest run, but if the cost of his assistance is him being gassed for his final inning of pitching, was it really worth it?
It’s frankly surprising that the first-seeded Tosei doesn’t have a cleanup pitcher. Though I suppose with the game this close, Takase wouldn’t want to get subbed out either way
I wonder how high school baseball handles that in general – some teams will surely have many more active players than others, which would obviously be a huge advantage in terms of managing your team’s stamina. I assume you have to submit a limited active roster for any given game?
Nice little buildup cut for Abe’s at-bat, first revealing his feet and bat before cutting to his face. I feel like this production makes frequent, effective use of the western genre’s cinematography conventions, treating the contest of pitcher and batter like a gunslinging duel. In practical terms, that means a lot of low-angle and over-the-shoulder panning shots contrasting the two, as well as shots that cut in close to prioritize the eyes looking out from beneath their baseball caps
A full-speed fastball flies by Abe. As he notes, at this point every fastball runs the risk of the pitcher slipping, given they require full leg extensions that may interact poorly with the soaking mound
Hanai’s analysis of the situation is pretty simple: “you gotta swing at a good one!” Abe does tend to get caught in his own head rather than reacting to the situation in front of him; as catcher he can control the pace, but as a batter he can get overwhelmed
“If we played them ten more times, maybe we’d get creamed in all ten, but we’re just one run behind in this game!” Again, credit to Asa Higuchi that this game feels close and winnable while simultaneously emphasizing that Tosei are a much, much stronger team than Nishiura. Tosei’s lack of concern or preparation, plus Takase’s early-game funk, plus the surprise factor of Mihashi, plus the balancing factor of the rain have all converged to give Nishiura an unlikely chance at glory
“Usually I couldn’t let Takase keep throwing full-length fastballs through the end of the game, but since he started out slowly, he still has some stamina.” Always that balancing act, the fear of permanently harming your pitcher’s arm
Terrific sequence of cuts as Abe connects, cutting the process of running and chasing the ball down into micro-fragments of key moments – the weird bounce, the leap from the third baseman, Abe’s foot reaching the base. We even get a brief movement-into-depth cut of Abe racing towards the base, with speedlines and a bobbing camera mitigating the need for redraws
And Abe is on base!
Unfortunately, now that Tosei knows about Tajima’s eyes, they’re likely to set up Abe for a trap when he tries to steal. Quite the brutal information war being conducted in the background
Their plan fails! A great pushing bunt by Izumi puts the ball past Takase, allowing our boys to take first and second. Jeez, Tajima is terrifying; Nishiura’s greatest batter, and yet even more deadly in the coach box
Nice internal monologue by Takase, as he reflects on how underdog victories are actually somewhat natural in high school baseball, as favored teams don’t necessarily have the psychological grounding to avoid being overcome by an opponents’ momentum. It is a tough thing for an inexperienced player to maintain their usual form when their usual form seems to be failing them
Next up is Sakaeguchi, who keeps trying for a bunt, but can’t get a strong enough handle on Takase’s fastball to avoid fouling instead. A real risk there – if he pops it up in a poor direction, this could easily lead to a double play
“Even so, it’s better to fail a bunt than to hit it badly and give them a double play.” My baseball experience is all second-hand, so thank you Momoe for affirming I’m fearing the right consequences here!
Suyama calls a time-out to reassure Sakaeguchi that the fork ball is off the table. Nice callback to their morning preparations here as they clasp hands, reaffirming their mutual trust with an echo of their collective meditation sessions. Though it hasn’t been brought up explicitly, Shiga’s meditation instructions are clearly contributing to the team maintaining a level head and positive attitude even while facing such an imposing opponent – the opposite case of Tosei, whose failure to overwhelm such a no-name team is clearing wearing on their nerves
“He’s probably just telling the batter to get his act together.” Takase again proves himself the exception, refusing to be derailed by speculation regarding the meaning of this time-out
Sakaeguchi at last gets his bunt, pushing runners to second and third while sacrificing himself. I quite like that aspect of baseball; the sacrifices versus positioning, the idea that you can “pay in outs” for field advantage. I tend to get more enjoyment out of sports that lean towards that almost “turn-based” sense of positional advantage versus the continuously active sports
Takase then earns a clean strikeout, taking us to Tajima’s final at-bat. Excellent Mihashi faces as he’s squished between his enthusiastic dugout neighbors
The boys are simply dazzled by Tajima’s cool attitude
Takase once again demonstrates his mental strength as Tajima takes his stand, going through his post-game routine to assure himself this is just like any other game
A foul and a clean strike put us 2-0 in the count. C’mon, Tajima!
Hah! Tajima actually swings at a sinker that’s slightly outside of his range, letting his grip slip one finger to extend the bat further and reach it. An insane counter to his relatively short wingspan, abandoning control in order to hit with pure momentum
Thus we get two runs, taking the lead!
“That’s not the battery’s fault. It’s mine for not having them intentionally walk that batter.” Tosei’s excellent coach immediately takes the blame – the battery made a smart play that would have worked under normal conditions, they just underestimated Tajima’s ridiculous flexibility of form. But in the end, Tajima is Nishiura’s only offensive weapon of that caliber; if they’d simply walked him, the threat would have passed forever
“I’m glad someone hit that in the first round of the tournament. I now know we can’t rely on sinkers all the time.” Kawai offers an excellent consolation speech to Takase, reframing their loss as necessary information while simultaneously insisting that there will be more rounds of this tournament for them
Takase swiftly strikes out Hanai, taking us to the bottom of the ninth!
And Done
Hell fucking yes, Tajima! Every run by Nishiura has felt like a convergence of the stars into one shining moment of tactical advantage, and Tajima certainly earned this one. It feels like his short stature was simply counterbalanced by his audacity; adjusting his grip mid-swing was crazy, but also pretty much the only way to trick Takase into offering him a hittable sinker. Yet in spite of allowing that hit in, Takase was clearly the co-star of this episode, demonstrating the same kind of firm psychological control that has allowed Nishiura to make it this far. Higuchi and Mizushima seem to both be in their element here, sculpting a multilayered battlefield of mental stamina, information advantage, and pure physical exertion. Now let’s see Mihashi bring them home!
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