It can be tough to re-orient yourself after an anime episode like this week’s Boku no Hero Academia.  It used to happen to me a lot with the likes of Hunter X Hunter or Shin Sekai Yori (though for different reasons usually).  It’s fortunate to have a show like Major 2nd on the schedule though – in fact, it airs at the exact same time as BnHA in Japan.  For one, it’s obviously very different in terms of theme and tone.  But it’s also a matter of Major being a straightforward, direct and extremely grounded story – the kind of anchor that’s wonderful to grab on to after an episode like Boku no Hero’s sets you emotionally adrift.

For me, part of the Major experience is having lived so much of it myself – which is something one can’t often say about an anime’s storyline.  I played youth baseball and like Daigo, wasn’t someone so naturally gifted that I could coast through practice and excel during the games.  When Toshiya talks about stuff like the effectiveness of the low, bouncing throw and the importance of the “crow hop” (which the Japanese didn’t bother to try and translate) I remember learning those lessons myself (and why I disliked playing the outfield so much – as Toshi says, there’s no backup for outfielders.  I was much happier at second base).

More than that, though, I remember the feeling of being at the center of the universe on the diamond – the euphoria that comes from doing something good, and the sheer horror that comes from screwing up.  When Daigo makes a great throw (low and bouncing) home to keep Urabe’s shutout alive, I’m almost as emotional as Kaoru-san to see the look on his face.  The way she thanks Toshiya, though, is really a parent’s exclusive privilege – he’s given Daigo a gift that she’s always wanted to share with him, and never could.

Things are looking pretty darn good for Daigo, in fact – he actually guns a runner down at first on what should be a single to right (revenge, as Toshi says, for the first inning).  He even gets a word of praise from Urabe for a (barely) successful sacrifice bunt (he’d be even more pleased with the comment Urabe makes to Andy after his outfield assist, though he doesn’t hear that one).  But like Icarus he flies too close to the sun and, drunk with success, tries to repeat his magic on a bases-loaded single in the top of the 7th and promptly costs the Dolphins the three runs which tie the game.

Context is everything in baseball, as Toshiya notes.  It determines where you position yourself defensively, what you should try and accomplish at the plate.  What can be a smart risk with the bases empty and a four-run lead is a dumb play with the tying runs on base.  It’s a lot to ask for little boys to remember such things in the heat of the moment (even major leaguers forget them sometimes) but it still cuts deep to see what that error does to Daigo.  As I said, it’s a shared experience – to this day I remember the feeling of making a mistake on the ball field and feeling like the whole world was laughing at me in scorn as if it happened yesterday.  And it’s not a feeling I’d wish on any kid, much less one whose confidence is as fragile as Daigo’s.

All of this drama comes about as a result of Urabe wearing down on the mound, having gone all out too early out of disrespect for his defense.  Andy’s threat of playing their “trump card” allows Urabe to focus long enough to fan the next batter, but he’s out of gas – even if Daigo had played that ball perfectly it was still a hit, and the lead would be halved.  The trump card turns out to be a position swap – Andy pitching and Urabe catching – and Andy plays it (apparently he and Urabe actually coach the team) when Urabe checks out mentally after Daigo’s error.  Andy is good enough to get the third out – leaving the Dolphins tied and with a chance for a walk-off in the last of the 7th.

I will at least give the Dolphins hapless coach credit for blowing off Daigo’s request to pinch-hit for him when he leads off the bottom of the 7th – the Dolphins might still win this game or lose it, but if Daigo quits here, he’s probably done as a baseball player for good.  Still, this is a dark hour for him – which is why it’s rather fortunate that Hikaru shows up when he does, apparently having changed his mind about making the trip from Gunma.  Hikaru’s value as a ballplayer is clear, but even in street clothes he’s a huge asset to the team here – because he might be the only one who can bring Daigo back into the moment, and his team needs him if they’re going to survive blowing that four-run lead…