Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. We report to you now from the first round of the summer tournament, where the top-seeded team and last year’s winners Tosei are facing off against the largely unknown Nishiura, whose roster appears to consist of largely freshmen players. Predictions weren’t calling for much of a competition today, but you know what, I gotta hand it to these Nishiura newcomers – whether it’s Tosei’s star pitcher Takase showing some nerves or whatever you’d call it, the freshmen are really putting up a fight.
We’re now at the top of the second inning, with Nishiura once again mounting a strong offensive in the face of Takase’s pitching. That said, the real story of this game might well be Nishiura pitcher Mihashi Ren, who knocked Nishiura out of the first inning in six pitches flat. Could that simply be beginner’s luck, or are we witnessing the first prelude of a new dynasty? Regardless, it’s turning into an all-out slugfest as both teams grapple for first blood. Let’s get back to it!
Episode 16
Alright, don’t worry, I won’t be pulling that crap for the whole article. But seriously though, Big Windup! is proving itself such a tactically grounded production that it actually does reward a tactics-interrogating play-by-play, the sort of breathless Robert E.O. Speedwagon-style commentary that inspired my twitter profile. You all know I love themes and character analysis (and Big Windup! certainly rewards plenty of psychological interrogation), but I also appreciate a show where the physical conflicts are so “crunchy,” so intelligently sculpted within a coherent field of battle and mechanical ability, that you can actually follow them not just as emotional exchanges, but as genuine articulations of game design and strategy
What I’m talking about is something fans assign to a lot of stories that don’t really reward such an approach – most shonen battles resolve because one or another side was written to win, not because they tactically outplayed their opponent. You basically just get it in Hunter x Hunter and the occasional sports drama, alongside weird outliers like Girls und Panzer (which is itself basically a sports drama). This is because writing such a conflict demands not simply saying “the characters engaged in a fierce battle of wills,” but actually writing a fierce battle of wills, complete with genuinely clever gambits and counterplays that the audience can understand as inspired without the author simply telling them so, as well as firm limitations on the abilities of the contestants. It’s quite a high standard of mechanical conflict writing, and only really applicable to narratives that hinge on mechanical, “gamified” conflicts in the first place, making it a rare treat that I’m always happy to enjoy
Anyway, Big Windup! We open right where we left off, with Mihashi making a squawking bird-faced fool of himself between first and second base, giving Hanai a chance to steal home. As ever, Mihashi’s ridiculous faces are this show’s most absurd visual flourish
Hanai is safe! Nishiura takes the first run of the game!
As both the show in general and this game in particular have emphasized, each run in baseball is a major trial and major accomplishment. Seeing fictional games decided by back-to-back grand slams is sort of the baseball equivalent of how fictional poker games always involve royal flushes – they’re going for flashiness to create a greater sense of impact, but the actual meat of play mostly involves desperately pushing runners forward and attempting to engineer individual runs. And of course, the only way to make that exciting is to ground it, to first teach the audience all the rules and factors at play, and then to use that education to construct tactically satisfying exchanges. It’s a laborious narrative approach, but the advantages of mechanically coherent, parsable conflict over pure bombast and showmanship are a prize worth seeking
Granted, it’s also no crime to seek pure bombast – and frankly, even tactics-oriented dramas still choose their own ways to “cheat” and simplify certain things. There is no one right way to illustrate conflict, this just happens to be a particularly compelling variant for a particular type of viewer
Tosei pitcher Takase is in disbelief, turning back to the scoreboard just to affirm what happened. This will presumably be a serious wake-up call, which is what Nishiura was always expecting – that this game will get harder as it proceeds, as Tosei’s superior training and eventually ability to read Mihashi’s pitches take over
Yep, Takase takes it in stride, with Mihashi’s ridiculous face getting him laughing and loosening him up. With a run already lost, there’s less pressure to be perfect, and now he can play his kind of baseball. Nishiura are in trouble
These opening innings have created a nice ominous tension and sense of anticipation; it’s been so manageable for Nishiura that those in the know are just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and their undeniably better-trained opponents to lock into fighting form
Takase also notes that the first base coach seemed to read his pitching motions, facilitating easier steals. Nishiura’s secret weapons are swiftly being discovered
Yeah, thought so – hearing this much dialogue from Takase made it clear he’s Noriaki Sugiyama. His Emiya Shirou voice is just too noticeable
Over in the Nishiura dugout, they’re making sure Mihashi didn’t hurt himself during his multiple fumbles. Mihashi’s recklessness is a danger to his whole team – if he hurts his arm pulling some stunt running the bases, that’s game over for everyone. Of course, it is very like Mihashi to not value his own body highly enough; he still needs to be assured of his worth by others, generally several times a day
Returning to the field, he sees an unusual sight – the crowd cheering for him specifically. The distance between anchor and underdog isn’t actually that great
Momoe and the dugout crew worry that Mihashi might be running a fever, while Abe laments that they don’t have the leeway to run any pitching tricks in this brutal portion of the batting order. Having your pitcher go from running the bases immediately back to pitching is rough – for professional teams, a designated hitter will generally replace the pitcher in the batting order, preventing this sort of issue
Next up is Aoki Takehiko, who was so good he actually played on Tosei’s competitive team even as a freshman, meaning he was the only freshman to reach Koshien (the hallowed stadium where the final games take place). And he’s risen in position since then, now occupying the vaunted cleanup hitter position, which is generally assigned to whoever is most likely to send runners home. Clearly a dangerous player
“Don’t be greedy! We can allow him a base hit.” If the threat of a particular batter getting an outright home run is high enough, it can be worth it to explicitly aim for easier-to-hit but harder-to-maximize pitches. The enemy’s greatest batter is frequently less dangerous on the bases than with a bat in hand
“The thing to watch out for is how hard he swings. On the flipside, his RBI has never been impressive.” Yep – so he doesn’t connect that often, but he really makes those connections count
This combination is emphasized with his next swing – he fouls the ball off to the side, but he fouls with such power that it actually flies over and beyond the stadium seating. That much power aimed in the right direction would be devastating
Sports anime certainly have a leg up in this sort of grounded conflict, in that they are based on activities where the parameters of possible and effective play have already been plotted out. They don’t have to invent a coherent rule set, the rule set already exists
As ever, Abe attempts to see the positive interpretation of this power – if he swings at anything, he can always be beaten
Mihashi finishes him off with a screwball. First out!
Next up is Kawai, the catcher, who will presumably use this at-bat to gather as much information as possible
Yep, he’s not even hitting, he’s just watching the ball all the way to the catcher’s mitt. If he can solve Mihashi’s pitches, that’s worth far more than the opportunity cost of one at-bat
Nonetheless, both he and the following batter are struck out without incident, leaving Tosei with only the impression that they haven’t practiced against sufficiently slow pitches to be ready for Mihashi. This game is an information war, and Abe did a fine job of revealing only as much as was necessary to get through the inning
“I’ll watch for one more inning, then we’ll take action in the middle stretch of the game.” Because the game’s so information-based, plotting your point of opportunity and taking advantage of it is essential. Tosei’s coach plans to catch up aggressively once Mihashi is solved, while Abe knows well that they have to score heavily now, before Mihashi’s various sinking balls have been analyzed and adjusted to
First up in the third is Abe. As the first to cross with a warmed-up Takase, he is surprised to see the data of the first two innings is useless – Takase is now in top form, and nothing that worked previously is effective now
Abe resolves to at least keep the momentum on their side before totally whiffing. Sorry dude, batting is not your strong suite
Back in the dugout, Mihashi offers him a heartfelt thanks for how well the previous innings have gone. He admits that his skills haven’t really changed, but the results have – and because of Abe’s strategies, he is able to take pride in his own skills. And for the first time, Abe actually internalizes this, his shocked face and immediate participation in an on-base cheer demonstrating that he has accidentally, unthinkingly become a genuine part of this team, a component of a greater organism that fundamentally cares about the fortunes and feelings of his teammates. Mihashi’s sincerity has broken through – the team has finally domesticated Abe
Abe attempts to counter this emotional distraction with a mountain of strategic thinking, overanalyzing Mihashi’s current mentality to avoid thinking about his own feelings. It’s pretty adorable, an extremely Abe riff on tsundere convention
The momentum remains on Nishiura’s side – even with Takase in fighting form, Suyama takes a base hit. It seems like, having shaken off their self-defeating doldrums, Tosei must now reckon with the plain fact that Nishiura are way better than they were expecting
The real test of their new dynamic comes when Tajima takes the mound – Nishiura’s best batter against a revitalized Takase
But Tajima is outwitted by Tosei’s mix of sinking and fastballs. Nishiura seem to be winning the larger positioning metagame, but when it comes down to the batter versus the battery, Tosei are still hard to beat
Mihashi’s cousin Ruri arrives, who apparently refers to him as “Ren-Ren.” Don’t let the boys hear that, Mihashi
The moms are hungry for girlfriend gossip, but willing to accept Ruri as a cousin instead
Brutal private assessment from Ruri when explaining why she’s here. Her own school has an upperclassmen game, but Ruri quite sensibly assumed that, like always, Ren would get knocked out in the first round, and thus this would be her only chance to cheer for him
Her reflections on Mihashi’s changing attitude towards spectators illustrate his psychological growth. This was the first time in years he didn’t discourage her from attending one of his games
And Done
With that, Mihashi earns his seventh strikeout, and leads the team out of the third inning! An impressive streak for Mihashi, and an obvious boon to his confidence – but of course, confidence constructed purely out of positive results can easily vanish when fortunes change. The window is closing for Nishiura, as their opposing batters learn to contend with Mihashi’s accurate yet unexpectedly slow pitches, and Takase locks into fighting form with fastballs at the ready. I remain impressed with how well Big Windup is articulating the complex tactical negotiations of baseball, and delighted at how directly that is translating to tense, clearly defined active drama. You better get some more runs before Mihashi’s figured out, boys!
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