Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am pleased as punch to announce we are returning to the mound for a fresh episode of Big Windup!, as our Nishiura boys attempt to pull one over on the top-seeded Tosei players. This game has ended up consuming Big Windup!’s entire second cour, and I for one couldn’t be happier; by honing in on the individual plays and counterplays of these two variably talented lineups, the production has brought the exceedingly complex strategic drama of baseball to life, going far beyond the battery-versus-batter standard to explore how every player, every gambit, and every twist of fate might influence the game’s eventual outcome.
Rather than focus on either player psychology, mechanical ability, or tactical ingenuity, Big Windup! has taken the sensible choice of emphasizing all three, resulting in a thrilling yet consistently parsable, mechanically grounded road to the bottom of the ninth. And now, with a one-run lead courtesy of our boy Tajima, it all comes down to Mihashi to at last shut Tosei down. Let’s take it home, Nishiura!
Episode 24
Rain falls at a steady clip as we return to the scoreboard. This has turned out to be a relatively high-scoring game, though even the innings where there were no outright runs scored were still full of tense exchanges at all kinds. Baseball is not an easy sport to make exciting without embracing this degree of granularity in illustrating its internal drama; without that precision, fictional baseball games often resort to plentiful grand slams and incredibly high scores to artificially provoke drama, much in the way fictional gambling faceoffs tend to involve numerous royal flushes and other incredibly unlikely hands (alongside reducing things like bluffing and overall confidence to clear, “solvable” personal tells)
“It’s hard to imagine ourselves at a disadvantage when our opponent is a public school’s all-freshman team.” Tosei’s coach attempts to rally the troops, which necessarily first involves leveling with them regarding the unexpectedly tough course of the game so far. You’re not going to inspire them to a recovery by ignoring their current feelings of disappointment
“Now we all know how unpredictable the summer tournament can be.” As with Kawai’s words of comfort to Takase at the end of the last episode, the positive takeaway here is “it’s a damn good thing we learned this harsh lesson before it was too late to do anything about it”
He furthermore urges them to consider extra innings, a statement that works as both sturdy practical advice and a demonstration of his faith, his confidence that they will actually reach those innings
The ensuing shot frames Mihasi alone and to the side of the frame, an inherently isolating composition made all the more so by the preceding camaraderie of Tosei’s players
No music, no conversation, just Mihashi alone with his thoughts, the rain muffling all other sounds. A sequence heavy with a sense of expectation, anticipating the battle ahead
Ooh, love this perspective cut following batter Mashiba’s eyes as he approaches the plate. Once again maintaining a sense of intimacy, focusing on the precise sensation of being responsible for Tosei’s opening salvo in their last chance at bat
And then at last we pull back to acknowledge the overall scene, with Tosei’s band and cheer section leading into our first long shot of the overall field
Mashiba takes a bunting stance, explaining that this is the easiest way to follow the pitch’s trajectory. Mihashi being such a strange, inexplicable pitcher remains Nishiura’s greatest strength – though as this match has consistently demonstrated, he’s really just one demonstration of the profound knowledge gap that has allowed such obvious underdogs to close the distance. Tosei didn’t bother scouting their opponent, and that oversight has reaped a terrible harvest
With Abe now calling for fastballs, Mihashi’s self-defeating psychological tendencies start to convince him they’ll definitely be hit. Little surprise there; Abe has convinced him that they can work around his fastball, but the pitch itself is still vividly associated with all the failures of his middle school years
Thus Mihashi finds himself afraid to look at Abe, worried he’ll signal another fastball and force Mihashi to ruin everything
“If you’re that scared of throwing a fastball, I’ll teach you that other pitches are even scarier.” Abe has such a sympathetic bedside manner
“It’s hard to overcome with mere words the fear learned from real experience. We’ll beat Tosei using his fastballs, and make him acknowledge their power!” Abe’s initial instincts are pretty blunt and unforgiving, but he’s still able to acknowledge the legitimacy of Mihashi’s fear. And once again, his mindset has shifted from “how can I trick Mihashi into following my orders” to “how can I build Mihashi into the best player possible”
The sound cuts again as Mihashi’s screwball is successfully bunted. A trick that cuts both ways, emphasizing Mihashi’s sense of isolation while also robbing us of context on what he’s actually thinking
Abe goes for tough love this time, threatening to switch to another pitcher if Mihashi doesn’t pull himself together
Dutch angles and muffled sound design serve to emphasize Mihashi’s bubbling anxieties, but his desire to own the mound eventually wins out. His greed as a pitcher is actually one of his secret weapons, and sometimes the only thing that can counter his fear of failure
The runner steals second, but Mihashi’s confidence has returned. Two strikes!
The fastballs continue to succeed in spite of Mihashi’s doubts, and we earn our first out. Such a small distance to go!
“Once I pin down the arc of that pitch, I’ll bet I can do whatever I want with it.” Yep. The information war continues all the way through the final inning – if Tosei can ever pin down Mihashi’s fastball, that’s the end of it
Abe curses himself for missing a pop-up foul, and then immediately apologizes to Mihashi. He’s come to know his pitcher well enough to understand that any aggressive action he takes will be interpreted by Mihashi as his own failure
The next batter actually connects on the fastball, leaving a man on first and third. I like these quick sequences of cuts that emphasize all of the individual make-or-break moments of a play like this – the baseman’s failed grab, the slight slipping of grip that gave the second base runner an opening. The production does a fine job of evoking the balance between tense expectation and brief, furious action that defines a baseball game
“Now we’re starting to make errors. This could all go wrong!” The fatigue is clearly felt on all sides at this point, making it all the more important they don’t slide into extra innings
Oh god, and next up is Aoki, the cleanup hitter. He couldn’t be better positioned to prolong this game
We hone in close on Abe and Mihashi’s eyes as Abe calls for a fastball, emphasizing how cornered they feel in the wake of that last disastrous pitch
Oof, brutal low-angle composition presenting Mihashi as once again isolated on the mound. It certainly makes sense that this last half-inning would be presented as a mental battle, Mihashi fighting against himself to believe in his own potential
“Nobody’s gonna complain about a pitch from you!” Just as he’s sinking into his old middle school mindset, the roaring support of his team reminds him that things are different this time around. And really, they’re right to cheer for him – it has been his distinctive pitching that has most effectively tripped up Tosei
With their confidence buoying him up, Mihashi fires off one last excellent fastball, which is caught in the outfield and sent home with milliseconds to spare. THREE OUTS!
Hah, oh my god. The teams’ mutual bow at the end offers one more illustration of what underdogs they were, with Nishiura’s team amounting to maybe half of Tosei’s numbers. Tosei could have run a whole fresh new lineup if they wanted to, making it all the more important to win in nine
My lord, what a game. Definitely up there among the most thrilling, sturdily plotted matches I’ve seen in fiction
We then get a lovely quiet moment as Tosei’s captain Kawai reflects on the loss, and all the people who placed their faith in him along the way. They fought hard; as he tells the tearful Takase, they have nothing to apologize for
Such a devastating feeling. They put all their hopes for their adolescence on the line, seeking glory in this one esteemed, unsparing field of battle. And with that, their season and summer is over, all that practice barely put to use
Jeez, Tomoe is relentless. Apparently they’re still on for their regular afternoon practice
Ahh, these players. Kawai passes the thousand cranes their managers made for Tosei onto Hanai, alongside their hopes of reaching the Koshien. He gallantly compliments his opponents, even with his eyes still red with tears
“Is it just me, or have we done something incredible here?” Yeah dude. And that will come with its own challenges – nobody was studying Nishiura coming into this game, but you can bet they’ll be scouted like hell from here on out. As such, relying on the peculiarity of Mihashi’s fastball probably won’t save them anymore
Unsurprisingly, Mihashi has already passed out. Really overtaxed himself for that one
And Done
My god, what an incredible game! After all those innings dedicated to careful schemes, rationing of pitch reveals, and general information-gathering, it ultimately all came down to this story’s most fundamental conflict: Mihashi’s battle with his own traumatic memories, and his teammates’ committed efforts to support that journey. A little compassion, a little tough love, and a whole lot of solidarity – so we escaped the alienating compositions and muffled soundscapes of Mihashi’s last stand, and overcame the wildly impressive Tosei lineup. It feels like some part of me has been holding its breath all since this game began, so I’m quite relieved to see it come to such a spectacular end, and eager to check back in on the team for some less nail-biting drama at last. Hold your heads high, Nishiura!
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