The night before the game and even after waking up in the morning, I had a strange feeling. Nihon University Third High School’s Hideaki Takenaka (3rd year) saw himself and his team on TV and thought, “Is this real? Maybe it’s a dream.”
As the catcher, he led three different pitchers from the same grade. With Tsuteru Yatsu, who has good control, he focused on low pitches and a game plan that made it hard for the opponent to narrow in. He encouraged the cautious second pitcher, Ryoga Yamaguchi, saying, “Be aggressive and pitch your own game.” To the third pitcher, Yuki Kondo, in a pinch, he said, “Just throw with confidence.”
Each gave up one run, but they didn’t allow a big inning. If he had set up a little lower, or further outside—the list could go on. “But the pitching staff gave it their all. I have no regrets about the hits we allowed.” He had a clear, satisfied expression.
Last summer, they lost the championship game in a walk-off. Seeing his main teammates, Ritsuki Homma and Tsubasa Matsuoka—both in the same grade—crying, he vowed, “I never want to make them feel that way again.” But in the fall metropolitan tournament, they lost in the quarterfinals, and in the spring, they fell in the semifinals. Aiming to become “a team that doesn’t get outswung,” they put in a lot of batting practice.
The results showed in the fourth inning. After being pushed to a corner, he held back on the ball and hit a base hit to the opposite field. “I was able to show what I’m made of. This team has really become a persistent batting lineup. We fought our way here. It’ll be a memory for a lifetime.”
After the game, during the closing ceremony, he slowly looked around the field. The packed stands, the cheers. The surroundings he hadn’t noticed while lost in the game now came clearly into view. The time he thought was a dream finally felt real. “High school baseball is over. We gave it our all. Since we made it this far, let’s go home with our heads held high.” He went around patting his sobbing teammates on the shoulder.
